CHAPTER 1

THE PREACHER

“The path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day.” This beautiful representation receives one example of its truth in the career of the subject of our memoir. He arose at the call of God, and went forth on a path way of progressive brightness. We have seen how from his youth he looked and toiled upward; and now, the discouragements of early years left behind, like the sun surmounting the morning clouds which had threatened to obscure its light, and pouring his benefic rays on all around, the man of God comes forth to the view of the church and the world, completely furnished for his work, to shed the healing beams of truth upon myriads of minds. Mr. Clarke’s appointment to London, in 1795, opens a new era in his life; in which each successive year unfolded attributes of heart and intellect which rendered him an object of confidence and admiration. As a public instructor, we shall find him both from the pulpit and the press serving his own and coming generation s, according to the will of God. If ever a man followed out a course intended for him by Providence, it was Adam Clarke. “You will find,” says Lord Bolingbroke, (and here, for once, he wrote the truth,) “you will find there are superior spirits who can show even from their infancy, though it be not always fully perceived by others, perhaps not always felt by themselves, that they were born for something more and better: their talents denote their general designation; and the opportunities of conforming themselves to it, that arise in the course of things, or that are presented to them by any circumstances of rank or situation in the society to which they belong, denote the particular vocation which it is not lawful for them to resist, nor even to neglect.” And that is most emphatically true of a vocation to the work of the evangelist. A man who receives it, and disobeys it, never prospers. Woe is unto him if he preach not the Gospel!

But Clarke was faithful to the heavenly calling. Through toil, and storm, an d want, as well as sunshine and competence, like John the Baptist he “fulfilled his course,” and, like Paul, “kept the faith,” and won the crown.

As a preacher, Mr. Clarke was distinguished by his originality. With a mind always inclining to the dialectical, [prone toward investigating the truth] he thought clearly, and on most subjects reasoned with a conclusive force which the most obtuse could apprehend, and the most sophisticated was constrained to acknowledge. But, though a thinker on his own account, by his extensive reading he availed himself largely of the thoughts of other men, only making them in a manner his own by processes of the mental laboratory, and always reproducing them with the mint-mark of his own intellect, and in combinations which genius only is able to form. His mind thus gave back an affluent return of interest upon the principal for which, in any amount, he was indebted to others; and that, not only in the ratio of quantity, but of quality as well. He improved on what he read, and worked within the deep recesses of his mind, by the secret of an alchemy which could transmute baser metals into gold. Exercising thus the faculties with which heaven had endowed him, he did not depend on factitious aids, but gained even at the outset a standing among those nobler intellects who think for themselves, and for others too. He remarks, in one of his letters to Mr. Brackenbury “To reduce preaching to the rules of science, and to learn the art of it, is something of which my soul cannot form too horrid an idea. I bless Jesus Christ I have never learned to preach, but through His eternal mercy I am taught by Him from time to time as I need instruction. I cannot make a sermon before I go into the pulpit: therefore I am obliged to hang upon the arm and the wisdom of the Lord. I read a great deal, write very little, but strive to study.”

All the way through his long career, he was, more than most men of the pulpit, an extempore preacher. In the course of his life he wrote many sermons, which are now extant in his works; but the greater number of these give but in inadequate idea of his style and manner of preaching.

Some of them were written designedly for the press, and may be considered more as theological treatises than pulpit-orations. He wrote as a divine, but preached as an apostle. Many of his most effective pulpitefforts were achieved with no previous aid from the pen. The Rev. J. B. B.

Clarke, in the retrospect he has published of his father’s life, says “He hardly ever wrote a line as a preparation for preaching. I have now in my possession a slip of paper, about three inches long by one wide, containing the first words of a number of texts; and this was the sole list of memoranda on which he preached several occasional sermons in various parts of the country.”

Once, when on a visit at Plymouth, he preached for two hours on the great question in Acts 16:30, — “What must I do to be saved?” Several of the clergy of the place were present, and united afterwards in requesting him to publish the discourse; one offering to take a hundred copies for his congregation, another two hundred and fifty, and another five hundred. Yet he had to tell them, in reply, that he had “neither outline nor notes of the subject, nor any time to commit the discourse to writing.”

Such a habit of extempore speaking can be recommended to the imitation of but few; and these, men in whom more than common power of ready and correct speech is added to more than common stores of knowledge.

But it enabled Dr. Clarke to seize upon any passing incident and turn it to advantage, or to shift the topic of discourse, if some important object required it, without inconvenience to himself. On one occasion, after he had preached at City-road chapel, a friend remarked to him, “I could not but observe that in the sermon you seemed suddenly to quit the subject in hand, and fly off to a series of arguments in proof of the Divinity of my Saviour, with which your previous subject was not connected. Had you any reason for so doing?” “Yes,” said he: “I observed Dr. K.” (a celebrated Unitarian) “steal into the back part of the chapel; and, after a few minutes, plant his stick firmly, as if he intended to hear me out. So, by God’s help I determined to bear my testimony to the Divinity of our Lord, trusting t hat He would touch his heart, and give him another opportunity of hearing and receiving the truth.”

From time to time these free outgoings of his soul were attended by an uncommon influence, “the demonstration and power of the Spirit.” In his letters to Mrs. Clarke he mentions such occasions, not in a temper of egotistic boasting, but with a devout and wondering acknowledgment of the condescending goodness of God in so employing him. For example: — “I was obliged to preach this morning at Oldham-street. The congregation was really awful. Perhaps I never preached as I did this morning. O, Mary, I had the kingdom of God opened to me, and the glory of the Lord filled the whole place. Towards the conclusion the cries were great. It was with great difficulty that I could get the people persuaded to leave the chapel. Though the press was immense, yet scarcely one seemed willing to go away, and those who were in distress were unable to go. Some of the preachers went and prayed with them, nor rested till they were healed. God has done a mighty work.”

Again, from Bristol: — “I am this instant returned from King-street. The chapel crowded — crowded! And God in a most especial manner enabled me to deliver such a testimony, from 1 Thessalonians 1:3, as, I think, I never before delivered. I did feel as in the eternal world, having all things beneath me, with such expansions of mind as the power of God alone could give. I was about an hour and a half, and am torn up for the day.”

Mr. Clarke’s pulpit-ministrations were substantially biblical. He preached the word. Here was the secret of his power. He brought a rule to bear upon the conscience against which there was no appeal. His congregations were summoned to the obedience of faith, not in the formulas of creeds, the decrees of councils, or the sentences of the fathers, but in the Scripture which cannot be broken. He “read in the book, in the law of God, distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading.”

In the “true sayings” penned by the inspired prophets and apostles, he recognized and demonstrated a revelation from God to man, and, as such, the sole canon of faith and morals. “There is nothing certain,” he used to say, “in the things which belong to salvation, but the plain word of God; no safe teacher but the Spirit of Jesus Christ; and that Spirit teaches the heart what the word teaches the understanding.” His habits of study in elaborating his Commentary had rendered him master of the entire scope a nd contents of the sacred volume, and contributed to give his ordinary pulpit-discourses a rich expository character. All his learning was brought to bear on this blessed duty, — to explain the words of God, that he might bring the people to the knowledge of the things of God. What was said respecting a prelate of former days might be affirmed of this eminent preacher: “He unfolded the grandeur of a prophecy, or the comfort of an Epistle; and alarmed the conscience, or bound up the wounded heart. He brought tidings of foreign learning to the scholar, of discoveries to the naturalist, and of manners to the people.” Thus he was the ears of the idle, gave matter for reflection to the thoughtful, and satisfaction to the inquisitive. He “taught in Judah, and had the book of the law of the Lord with him, and went about throughout all the cities of Judah, and taught the people.”

One consequence of this method was an inexhaustible variety in his preaching. The Bible contains a universe of truth; and the longest life of man becomes momentary when brought to the task of unfolding it. We have heard of a German professor who spent years in a course of lectures on the first chapter of Isaiah, and died without completing it; and we can easily conceive, that such expository preachers as Owen and Matthew Henry would review their labors with dissatisfaction, as having been employed too much, to their feeling, on the surface, without having penetrated the mysterious depths, of the solemn, solitary volume which riveted the gaze of their lives. Mr. Clarke, even in the earlier years of his ministry, adopted a method which insured a wide range of Bible subjects for the pulpit, in preaching from the Lesson, Epistle, or Gospel for the day: all which portions of the holy Book he carefully examined, marking in a large textbook the verses which drew his special attention as likely to afford topics of public address.

A preacher commanding such an amplitude of topics would always have something new. And therefore it was that Mr. Clarke’s hearers, to whatever chapel they followed him, very seldom listened to the same discourse. The late Mr. Buttress, who always accompanied him when Mr.

Clarke was stationed in London, affirmed, that he never heard him preach the same sermon twice. Reflecting thus the present exercises of his intellect, his discourses had a perpetual freshness; they came warm from the living heart, and brought life and warmth to the heart of the hearer. And that, especially, because they brought the Gospel. We have said he was a biblical preacher, in the truest sense, ever holding forth the grand evangelism which pervades the Bible, as its soul and spirit, — namely, that “God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

In making known this truth in all its solemn bearings and consequences, he was remarkable among th e ministers of his day. In the constellation of eminent preachers who moved at that time in the intellectual sky, but who have now nearly all disappeared from our sight, Mr. Clarke was in this respect a star of the first magnitude. From his rising to his setting hour, unnumbered multitudes rejoiced in his light as a witness and guide to the mercy which could save them. In his ministry Christ was all in all; the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. He essayed to unfold the entire evangelic revelation, the whole counsel of God with respect to the way of salvation by Jesus Christ. He showed the sinner his mighty need of such a Saviour, and led him in repentance to His feet. By him “The violated law spoke out its thunders; And by him, in strains as sweet as angels use, The Gospel whisper’d peace.” “The only preaching,” he said once, in a letter to a brother minister, (and the maxim had its embodiment in his own practice,) “the only preaching worth anything in God’s account, and which the fire will not burn up, is that which labors to convert and convince the sinner of his sin; to bring him into contrition for it; to lead him to the blood of the covenant, that his conscience may be purged from its guilt; to the Spirit of judgment and burning, that he may be purified from its infection; and then to build him up on this most holy faith, by causing him to pray in the Holy Ghost, and keep himself in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. This is the system pursued by the apostles, and it is that alone which God will own to the conversion of sinners. I speak from experience. This is the most likely mode to produce the active soul of divinity, while the body is little else than the preacher’s creed. Labor to bring sinners to God, should you by it bring yourself t o the grave.

Again, to another: — “These are not only the first rudiments of heavenly teaching, but the fulness of Divine truth in reference to salvation: 1. Thou art a sinner, and consequently wretched. 2. God is an eternal, unfailing Fountain of love. 3. He has given His Son Jesus Christ to die for men. 4. Believe on Him, and thou shalt be saved from thy sins. 5. When saved, continue incessantly dependent upon Him; so shalt thou continually receive out of His fulness grace upon grace, and be ever fitted for, ever ready to, and ever active in, every good word and every good work.

This is the sum and substance of the revelation of God; and, O! how worthy it is of His infinite goodness, and how suitable to the nature and state of man! These are the simple lessons which I am endeavoring to learn and teach. This is the science in which I should be willing to spend the longest life. O God! simplify my heart.”

No man, since the apostle St. John, seems to have had more large and soulstirring views of the love of God than Adam Clarke. Here and there in his Commentary the reader will find some bursts of feeling on this grand topic, which will give an idea of the spirit and manner of the man when in the pulpit. When this mighty truth began to move in his soul, he became irresistible. The first time I had the privilege of hearing him, the text was, “God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God.” “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” It was then that I witnessed, and felt too, how this man could master and control the entire intellect and heart of a great congregation by the simple, honest, and earnest exhibition of the faith once delivered to the saints. Ille regit dictis animos, et pectora mulcet.

No wonder that, with this victorious sceptre of truth, the first preachers vanquished the world. We were all subdued: the tears of repentance, the uplifted eyes of prayer, the swelling emotion of triumphal joy, which longed to give itself utterance in one loud thunder of thanksgiving, all showed how powerful is the uncorrupted Gospel when preached aright.

What I then witnessed helps me to understand his meaning, when on one occasion he said, after preaching: “I would not have missed coming to this place for five hundred pounds. I got my own soul blessed, and God blessed the people. I felt,” (stretching out his arms, and folding them to his breast,) “I felt that I was drawing the whole congregation to me closer and closer, and pulling them away from the world to God.”

In expatiating on that Divine mercy “whose height, whose depth unfathomed, no man knows,” Mr. Clarke found endless resources for the conversion and comfort of the soul and heart.

The love of God,” he was wont to say, “will convert more sinners than all the fire of hell.” His confidence in the efficacy of the glad tidings, that God is LOVE, was unlimited, and lasting as his life. Thus toward the end of his days, in conversation with his dear son Joseph, he said, “After having now labored with a clear conscience for the space of fifty years, in preaching the salvation of God through Christ to thousands of souls, I can say, that is the most successful kind of preaching which exhibits and upholds in the clearest and strongest light the Divine perfection and mercy of the infinitely compassionate and holy God to fallen man, and which represents Him alike compassionate and just. Tell then your hearers, not only that the conscience must be sprinkled, but that it was God Himself who provided the Lamb.”

In the same spirit he delighted to illustrate the pleasures and advantages of a life devoted to the service of a reconciled God. The Rev. Joseph Clarke has given a good description of his father in the pulpit, which, though it takes us to a later period of life, we quote here, to render our idea of Mr.

Clarke as a preacher as complete as we can: — “The appearance of my father, and his effect while in the pulpit upon a stranger, would probably be something like this: He” [the stranger] “would see a person of no particular mark, except that time had turned his hair to silver, and the calmness of fixed devotion gave solemnity to his appearance. He spreads his Bible before him, and, opening his HymnBook, reads forth in a clear distinct voice a few verses, after singing of which he offers up a short prayer, which is immediately felt to be addressed to the Majesty of Heaven. The text is proclaimed, and the discourse is begun. In simple yet forcible language he gives some general information connected with his subject, or lays down some general positions drawn from either the text or its dependencies. On these he speaks for a short time, fixing the attention by gaining the interest. The understanding feels that it is concerned. A clear and comprehensive exposition gives the hearer to perceive that his attention will be rewarded by an increase of knowledge, or by new views of old truths, or previously unknown uses of ascertained points. He views with some astonishment the perfect collectedness with which knowledge is brought from far, and the natural yet extensive excursions which the preacher makes to present his object in all its bearings, laying heaven and earth, nature and art, science and reason, under contribution to sustain his cause. Now his interest becomes deeper; for he sees that the minister is beginning to condense his strength, that he is calling in every detached sentence, and that every apparently miscellaneous remark was far from casual, but had its position to maintain, and its work to perform; and he continues to hear with that rooted attention which is created by the importance and clearness of the truths delivered, by the increasing energy of the speaker, and by the assurance in the hearer’s own mind that what is spoken is believed to the utmost and felt in its power. The discourse proceeds with a deeper current of fervor; the action becomes more animated; the certainty of the preacher’s own mind, and the feelings of his heart, are shown by the firm confidence of the tone, and a certain fulness of the voice and emphasis of manner; the whole truth of God seems laid open before him; and the soul, thus informed, feels as in the immediate presence of the Lord.”

To this account may be appended a few lines by Mrs. Pawson, all the more appropriate as they relate to the time already reached in our biography. This lady, the wife of his venerable colleague at Liverpool, has the following memorandum in her journal: — “Brother Clarke is, in my estimation, an extraordinary preacher; and his learning confers great lustre on his talents. He makes it subservient to grace. His discourses are highly evangelical. He never loses sight of Christ. In regard of pardon and holiness, he offers a present salvation. His address is lively, animated, and very encouraging to the seekers of salvation. In respect to the unawakened, it may indeed be said that he obeys that precept, ‘Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet.’ His words flow spontaneously from the heart; his views enlarge as he proceeds; and he brings to the mind a torrent of things new and old. While he is preaching, one can seldom cast an eye on the audience without perceiving a melting unction resting upon th em.

His speech ‘distils as the dew,’ and ‘as the small rain upon the tender herb.’ He generally preaches from some part of the Lesson for the day, and on the Sabbath morning from the Gospel for the day. This method confers an abundant variety on his ministry.”

The end and aim of every sermon with him was to do good there and then.

One day, as he entered the vestry at City-road after preaching, a friend remarked, “What an admirable sermon you have preached to us this morning, sir!” “Brother,” he replied, “Satan whispered that to me as I left the pulpit. But I told him that by the mischief alone which it did to his kingdom God would judge it. I am afraid of any other good sermons than those. It is solemn work to stand up between the living and the dead!”

In style and manner, Mr. Clarke’s discourses derived no advantage from artificial rhetoric, the mellifluous [pleasing, musical, flowing] charms of elocution, or the little embellishments on which the artist in public speaking depends so much for his popularity. The harmony of cadences or the aesthetic grace with which the orator moves to group his thoughts and words so as to win the ear, and charm the sense of music in the soul, were things quite out of his line. We are not sure whether he was endowed with that kind of talent more than in a mediocre degree; but we know that he cared nothing about using it. Yet the absence of these circumstantials in no way interfered with the universally acknowledged grandeur of his ministry.

The Divine Spirit has endowed the teachers of the world with a variety of gifts. He who wrought powerfully in St. Peter to convince the Jew, conferred on St. Paul the ability to persuade the Greek. Among the great preachers of the early church, the men whose ministry shed sunlight on the ages in which they lived, we see gifts many, but all emanating from one Spirit. It was grace that sanctified their natural endowments, and made itself visible in “the serious end careful perspicuity of Athanasius,” in Basil’s refined and graceful sweetness, in the eloquence which flowed from the lips of Chrysostom like streams of liquid gold, in the self-possessed dignity of Cyprian, the power with which Hilary could drape his thoughts in tragic pomp and glory, or the vivid meditations with which Ambrosius could pierce the soul, “as with arrows dipped in honey-dew.” So, in more modern times, the thunder-storm of Luther, and the placid vigor of Melancthon, and (why not say it?) the ornate clarity of Massillon, the penetrating unction of Fenelon, and the imposing grandeur of Bossuet, all betoken His still merciful presence. In the mighty bursts of truth from Whitefield’s lips, or the tranquil, sincere, and soul-commanding evangelisms of Wesley, we hear His awakening voice. Did not He who clothes the lilies with their beauty, and spans the heavens with the rainbow, give to Chalmers the imagination by which he brought visions of truth before men’s minds like a gorgeous panorama; and enable Robert Hall to show us the river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb? Thus, too, in the pulpits of Methodism, the exuberant pathos of Bradburn, the searching fire of Benson, Richard Watson’s majesty of mind, Robert Newton’s bland and evangelic grace, and Jabez Bunting’s unaffected but beautiful and potent oratory, all display the operations of that same Spirit who, “Plenteous of grace, descends from high, Rich in His sevenfold energy,” to distribute His celestial gifts according to the counsel of His own will.

The servants of God, having these faculties differing one from another, cannot be expected every one to resemble his fellow; and though Adam Clarke may not be said to have possessed the peculiar character of any of the men we have named, yet was his pulpit-ministry distinguished by attributes which set him, in point of effectiveness, on a level with any of them, the apostles excepted. As an able critic says of Augustine, in comparison with some other of the Fathers, “he had less of beauty, but more of power, than they.” In Dr. Clarke’s preaching there was such a breadth and depth of information, such strength of feeling and fixedness of solemn purpose to save men’s souls from death, that all who heard him knew within themselves that they were face to face with a messenger from God; and while the learned and the illiterate were alike brought under the same spell, and earnestly attended to the words spoken by him, he so rightly divided and faithfully applied the word of the Lord, that the conscience of the sinner was awakened, and the contrite heart comforted, by its efficacy working in the soul.

His preaching had all the more heart in it from the experience which he himself enjoyed of the saving power of the truth. Why did the hearers feel so? It was because the preacher had felt first. He came before them fulldressed in the mantle of salvation, with his lamp burning. He told them of a mercy which he had found, and which they must seek, or perish. He told them of a Saviour who would be presently their Judge: — “Before him came, in dread array, The pomp of that tremendous day When Christ with clouds shall come:” — and, with the awful light of these revelations on his soul, he persuaded men as well by the terrors as by the compassions of the Lord. He delighted, as we have said, to set forth the mercy of God; but it was done in such a way, that the whole sermon was at once a warning to the wicked, and a voice of consolation to the repentant. And preaching as he did under the conviction that this life is the only span of opportunity for the evil and hell-condemned to obtain remission and renewal, — that, in respect to some of his hearers, life was verging on its latest hour, and that on the very moment then present hung eternity itself, — he so preached that the truth came from his own to the hearer’s heart; that attention was arrested, feeling excited; the dreamer awoke from his abstractions, the worldling felt the power of another life, the infidel insensibly believed; of the reprobate, hovering angels said, “Behold, he prayeth;” at Christ’s omniscient glance, poor backsliding Peter again wept bitterly; and, ravished at the sight of a Saviour who was dead and is alive again, another Thomas exclaimed, “My Lord, and my God!”

Thus the Gospel came not in word only, but in power and assurance, and with signs of salvation. Moses struck the rock.

In presence of these substantial and heart-satisfying powers, the auditors of Clarke forgot the want of artistic accomplishments which have contributed to make the modern pulpit sometimes attractive. A comparatively homely manner, and a voice not tuned at all times to melodious cadences, were not once thought of. He was not a mere orator.

He brought strong thoughts, and clothed them in honest words, as a means to an end. He had a purpose, and one in which you, as his hearer, had an everlasting interest. He wanted to make you a better man: he wanted to save your soul; and to do this, he sought to lay hold on you by the conscience. The ear with him was only the avenue to the heart. Unless a man has this purpose and aim, it is in vain that he draws the bow. The arrow from his hand will never find its way to the mark; or, should it chance to do so, will fall without effect, like the shaft that Homer tells of, so uselessly launched by Priam against the shield of the Grecian hero: — “This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw, Which, fluttering, seem’d to loiter as it flew; Just, and but barely, to the mark it held And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield.” But Clarke drew not the bow at a venture, and seldom without success, in one degree or another. A multitude of sinners were converted under his ministry; and, among them, not a few who have themselves been made instruments of salvation to others.

And these works and services were sustained by him for half a century of time, and over a great extent of area in the social world. Some excellent ministers are all their lives restricted to a circumscribed and narrow locality. They pass their days, by the ordination of Providence, in comparative obscurity, witnessing the truth but to a few persons, and shining as lights in dark and unthought-of places. But this man’s career was more like that of the sun when he comes forth in his strength to bathe a hemisphere in light. He went literally through the length and breadth of the land. From the Norman Isles to the ultima Thule of the storm-beaten Zetlands, he revealed the glorious Gospel of the grace of God. The English nation, one might say, knew and revered him. Men in high places, and men of low degree, in crowded cities and sequestered hamlets, alike waited for his coming, and welcomed the sound of his voice. “How beautiful upon the mountains were the feet of him that brought good tidings, that published peace; that brought good tidings of good, that published salvation; that said unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!”

One great charm, that rendered his ministry so attractive, was found in the well-known qualities of his own upright and holy life. It gives one a sacred and edifying satisfaction, to remember how finely the precepts of the Gospel which he preached harmonized with his personal character. He lived the Gospel. His doctrine and life, coincident, proved him to be at once a great and good man. His life recommended religion; and was itself a ceaseless homily of things profitable to man, and pleasing unto God. It was a life not only unblemished by glaring inconsistencies, but adorned by practical excellence; and I believe that no man could have used the words of St. Paul with less of impropriety than he: “Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there he any praise, think on these things. Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, a nd heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you.” In this respect it will be our wisdom to imitate him, considering the end of his conversation, Jesus the First and the Last. Christum pectore, Christum ore, Christum opere, spirabat.

CHAPTER 2

THE PASTOR

The vocation of the Christian minister binds him not only to labor to win souls by preaching, but also to watch over them in the services of that pastoral office which the Lord by an everlasting ordinance has established in His church. In the discharge of this solemn duty, it was Mr. Clarke’s earnest endeavor to approve himself faithful. His care was to feed the church of God, to build up believers in their holy faith, to strengthen such as did stand, to comfort and help the weak-hearted, to raise up the fallen, and to restore the wanderer. As a Methodist pastor, he conscientiously administered the discipline of which both himself and the members of his flock had alike pledged their acceptance. He considered that discipline to be perfectly scriptural in its character, and directly conducive to the edification and perpetuity of the church. In the Circuits in which he presided as superintendent, the peculiar institutions of Methodism were upheld in their vigor and integrity. Class-meeting, for example, which has afforded to so many myriads of Christ’s disciples a delightful means of brotherly fellowship, mutual improvement, comfort in trouble, and timely help in necessity, he would never see neglected without inquiry, and, if needful, remonstrance or exhortation. The value he set on this means of grace appears in the fact, that in several of the places in which he was stationed, in addition to those official visitations of the classes which devolved on him as a minister, he would have his name on some Class- Book as a private member, and meet as such, as often as opportunity served. He urged the Methodist people to make much of this peculiar advantage of their communion, and sometimes in writing a letter to a friend would throw in a memento bearing on the duty, if it were only in the simple words appended as a postscript, — “Mind your class.” So, in a letter to a captain in the navy, a Methodist, with whom he had formed an intimacy at Liverpool, as a member of the Philological Society in that town; he says: “May I ask how you get on in your classical, philological, and princely connections? Do not neglect the two former, by any means; and let the first have the first claim. We live, my friend, in a miserable world; but we may live well in it, if we look to God. I know you will be faithful to the trust reposed in you by His Majesty; but, O, be also faithful to the light and influence of the Spirit of God. Use every means of grace, and glorify God in all things. I long after my class, and doubt whether any one will let me in here. I am not sufficiently acquainted with the people yet to raise one like that in Liverpool.” This last remark refers to his success in forming a class in Liverpool of entirely new members. At the close of the first meeting, he laid down his penny (the weekly contribution) on the table, with, “There, thank God, I am once more in class.”

Thus, to another friend: “What a mercy it is that you and I are now in His fold! May God keep us both steady! Abide in Him, my dear friend, that when He shall appear, you may see Him as He is. Pray much in private.

No soul that prays much in private ever falls. Read the blessed Book; let His testimonies be your counselors, and the subject of them be your song in the night. Keep closely united to God’s people. Do not omit one classmeeting even in the year, if you can possibly avoid it. I have been now a traveling preacher upwards of twenty-four years, and yet I feel classmeeting as necessary now as I did when I began. You may think it strange to hear that I meet regularly once a week, and have done so for years. I find it a great privilege to forget that I am a preacher, and come with a simple heart to receive instruction from my leader.”

Again, farther on in life, to a brother minister: “From long experience I know the propriety of Mr. Wesley’s advice, ‘Establish class-meetings and form Societies wherever you preach and have attentive hearers: for, wherever we have preached without doing so, the word has been like seed by the way-side.’ It was by this means we have been enabled to establish permanent and holy churches over the world. Mr. Wesley saw the necessity of this from the beginning. Mr. Whitefield, when he separated from Mr. Wesley, did not follow it. What was the consequence? The fruit of Mr. Whitefleld’s labor died with himself. Mr. Wesley’s remains and multiplies. Did Mr. Whitefield see his error? He did, but not till it was too late: his people, being long unused to it, would not come under this discipline. Have I authority to say so? I have; and you shall have it. Forty years ago I traveled in the Bradford (Wilts.) Circuit, with Mr. John Pool.

Himself told me this. Mr. P. was well known to Mr. Whitefield, who, having met him on e day, accosted him in the following manner: — Whitefield: ‘Well, John, art thou still a Wesleyan?’ Pool: ‘Yes, sir. I thank God I have the privilege of being in connection with Mr. Wesley, and one of his preachers.’ W.: ‘John, thou art in thy right place. My brother Wesley acted wisely: the souls that were awakened under his ministry he joined in class, and thus preserved the fruits of his labor. This I neglected, and my people are a rope of sand.’” In cases of habitual neglect of meeting in class, Mr. Clarke hesitated at the quarterly visitation to give the accustomed ticket as the token of membership. During his residence in Manchester, he met a class one day, when a wealthy member who never came sent a guinea as his quarterly contribution. Mr. Clarke, on looking over the class-paper, and seeing how the case stood, refused the money, desiring the leader to take it back again, and request the gentleman to give him, Mr. Clarke, an interview.

As a superintendent, he superintended. In a family, a church, a kingdom, there must be a head. The proper administration of the affairs of the Circuit he considered a moral duty on his part; and a cheerful, enlightened acquiescence in every constitutional arrangement of the church, the moral duty of members, leaders, local preachers, and the other members of the official staff of a Circuit. In one place the local preachers demurred [objected] to his exclusive authority to make the Plan, and fix their appointments. To show them by a practical experiment that it was best for the superintendent to have that power, he even let them for a time or two arrange their own appointments. “Take and make out a Plan for yourselves,” said he, “and bring it to me, and I will incorporate the traveling preachers with it.” They did so, after much altercation among themselves; for they could not agree. “We soon had loud complaints from different parts of the Circuit; for those who were the least fit for certain places would g o there. The next Plan I gave them as before, and with great difficulty they planned themselves again; and then the complaints from the Circuit became louder and louder. The most pious and sensible of the local preachers saw and heard this. With the third Plan they refused to have anything to do, and confidence was restored.”

Mr. Clarke wished to see the various offices of the church filled by men whose religious qualifications would uphold their moral influence, and effectively carry out the purposes for which they had been established. A steward in a certain town had a commercial partner, who had acted in a dishonorable manner. This conduct became a topic of conversation at the leaders’-meeting, at which Mr. Clarke presided. The officer, by some remarks, intimated that he sided with his partner in what he had done. “Then,” said Mr. Clarke, “give up thy stewardship; for thou mayest be no longer steward.” Reflection led this gentleman to see that he had been wrong, and that his pastor had acted rightly. He had greatness of mind enough to acknowledge it, and was at once reinstated.

Our worthy pastor inculcated the most inflexible principles on the subject of commercial integrity. In preaching one Sunday morning, at the old chapel in Spitalfields, on the fifteenth Psalm, he laid great stress on the relative duties there laid down for the guidance of men of business. An eminent merchant who had heard the sermon overtook him on the way home, and observed, “Mr. Clarke, if what you have said today in the pulpit be necessary between man and man, I fear few commercial men will be saved.” “I cannot help that, sir,” replied he: “I may not bring down the requirements of infinite justice to suit the selfish chicanery of any set of men whatever. It is God’s law, and by it He will Himself judge man at the last day.”

But, while thus resolute and unbending in maintaining the high moralities of Christian discipline in the church, he was full of tenderness for the weak and afflicted, whether in body or mind, and knew how to blend the gravity of the pastor with the gentle love of a father and a friend. Here is a glimpse of him in the class-room, as given us by his daughter in one of her piously recorded recollections: — “My father had been preaching at Chandlerstreet (now Hinde-street); and after service had a class to meet. I accompanied him on that occasion, and was permitted to sit by him.

Addressing one present, he said, ‘You, my sister, can speak good of the Lord. You have long known that He is gracious.’ She burst into tears, and said, ‘O yes, sir; but I have been most unfaithful, and my mind has been brought into great heaviness: during my daughter’s late illness, I would not give her up.’ ‘And did your daughter die?’ ‘No, sir; she was spared to me.’ ‘Look up, my sister, and learn this lesson: God never wastes His grace by giving more than is needed. Had He purposed to take your daughter, He would have bestowed upon you the gift of resignation to meet the trial.’” To another, who was in affliction, he said, “The cloud will be dispersed by and by: though affliction endureth for a night, joy cometh in the morning.

God will not always afflict: remember His Son Jesus Christ, and fear not.

In all your afflictions He was afflicted; and He still sympathizes with you.

Often have I preached this doctrine to you; and now that you need it most, receive it heartily. He is the same God, willing to help, mighty to save. Put His friendship to the test, and you will find Him all you want, and all you wish.”

In the department of pastoral duty which relates to visiting from house to house, Mr. Clarke could not fully gratify the wishes of his heart. This, indeed, is true of the great majority of his brethren. There may be from a thousand to two thousand members under the care of two or three ministers, who are constantly engaged in the public duties they owe to a number of congregations spread over an area of many miles. Then, again, the connectional interests of the body make large demands on their time, involving, in cities and large towns, frequent attendance on committees, whose activity is necessary to the effective working, and even the existence, of several institutions of charity and religion; while the pecuniary support of those institutions frequently requires them to give up two or three days together in journeys to other Circuits to preach and speak at public meetings. There is also a necessity, in order to keep pace with the enlightenment of the age, and to maintain the confidence and respect of the public in the office of teacher, that the minister should spend some few hours a day in his own study. Then it must be remembered, that social visits are to be accomplished either by day or in the evening. But in the hours of the day, while the people are engaged in their business or labor, a visit becomes an intrusion: and, on the other hand, in the evening, when families have more leisure to receive visits, the minister is at work in his Circuit; for most of us preach or hold meetings every evening in the week. It is not with us, as with the parochial clergyman or the Dissenting minister, that, time being secured for the Sunday sermons and the one week-day lecture, several evenings in the week may be made available for visiting. We are so employed that it becomes physically impossible for us to gratify, according to our earnest desire, the social tendencies. Yet it must not be supposed, on these grounds, that the Methodist people are without pastoral care: on the contrary, no religious communion is so richly supplied with the means for the enjoyment of that privilege. Not to speak of Society meetings, in which the flock and the shepherd unite for intercourse and prayer, — or of the weekly class-meeting, in which the concerns of the soul occupy the solemn transactions of the hour, — in the visitation of the classes by the ministers at the renewal of the tickets, we believe there is more direct communication between the pastor and the member on the interests of the spiritual life, than would be had in twenty occasions in which, from the presence of other persons, (some of whom, it may be, are opposed or indifferent to religious things,) the conversation takes a more general character. In a word, so far as mere gossiping visits are concerned, the preachers have, and ought to have, but very little time. Some of them very properly avail themselves of the hour of “tea-time to exchange words of friendship with a family, and to offer such instruction as the opportunity may afford: but Mr. Clarke had (as we think, un fortunately) disqualified himself for this social enjoyment, by renouncing the use of tea, partly from a notion that the leaf itself was injurious to health, but more especially for the sake of employing the time which others spend at the tea-table in the prosecution of his studies. And this reminds us that, in Mr. Clarke’s case, it must be taken into account that he was called of God to a life at once more public, and yet more sequestered in many of its hours, than that of many of his brethren.

It was his vocation not only to teach with the living voice, but through the medium of the press; and the hours spent by him in earnest, laborious, and life-consuming studies, have given forth their results in those voluminous and imperishable works by which, though dead, he yet speaks, and will continue to be the instructor of distant generations. When we survey the massive labors of his pen, and call to mind the active and energetic character of his oral ministry, the wonder is how he could accomplish all this; and that wonder increases when we see that in the general routine of pastoral business he would not permit himself to be behind his colleagues.

Though he had no relish for gossip, and was intolerant of the waste of time, yet in visiting the sick and afflicted of his flock he was among the foremost. He adhered to the letter of “the Twelve Rules,” to which, as a preacher, he had pledged his obedience, desiring “never to be unemployed,” and “always to go to those who wanted him most.” Had he then time for some visits ? He would hasten to the house of mourning rather than to that of festivity, and with the poor and the needy he would share his last sixpence. It was his care to do good as well to the body as to the soul. His knowledge of medicine enabled him to give continuous relief to many a sufferer. While in Dublin, be attended the lectures on Anatomy and Materia Medica, which supplemented a large amount of knowledge he had acquired of the healing art by extensive reading and observation; and all this he turned to account in many a chamber where disease and poverty were the joint inmates. In cases, however, of a critical nature, he sought aid for t he sick poor from professional men, of whom there were many in the circle of his own friends. At Manchester and other places he became acquainted in this way with most of the faculty. In the former city Dr. Eason was much attached to him. He told Mr. Clarke that he liked to attend the Methodist people in their last labors, — “they died so peacefully.” From what I have read in manuscript letters, written in later years by the subject of our memoir, that eminent physician himself found unspeakable benefit to his own soul from the intercourse to which allusion has just been made.

Mr. Clarke was once sent for by a person in dying circumstances, who proved to be a gentleman who had been awakened under a sermon of his some time before, and who, though then in much penitential trouble, had not yet found rest for his soul. The minister heard the recital of his anxieties, and formed so good an opinion of his case as to wonder that he had not already received some comforting token of the Lord’s forgiving grace. In giving such counsel as he thought to be required, he intimated to the gentleman a surprise that there was some important act of duty from him to God or man which he was knowingly neglecting. Whereupon the dying man related that, in sailing some years before from a foreign port to England, he land by way of frolic secreted a small bag of dollars which had been committed to the captain’s care, but which had been carelessly allowed to be day after day upon the locker. At the end of the voyage, the captain making no inquiries for the bag, it was still detained, and several months elapsed before anything was heard concerning it. At length, the parties for whom the money was designed, having received notice of the fact, applied to the captain, who candidly acknowledged that he took it on board, but added that he could give no further account of it. By this time the person in whose hands it was became alarmed, and was ashamed to confess, lest his character should suffer; and so he hid the property. The poor captain was sued for the amount, and, having nothing to pay, was thrown into prison, where, after languishing for two years, he died. The guilty person now strove to banish all thought of the misery which he had occasioned, and to drown the voice of conscience by business and amusement. But it was all in vain; and, especially from the time when he heard Mr. Clarke preach, he had suffered great disquietude of mind. He had agonized at the throne of mercy for pardon, but he could obtain no answer, and he feared he must go down to the grave unpardoned, unsaved. The minister inculcated the necessity of restitution. The sum, with compound interest, was paid to the widow of the captain. The poor man thereupon found tranquillity of mind, and expired at length in the enjoyment of the mercy of God.

Wherever Mr. Clarke found genuine piety, it had an attractive charm, which drew his steps again and again to the humblest abode. He had, in fact, some of his chief favorites among the truly religious poor. In visiting the simple-hearted members of his flock Mr. Clarke made himself at home with them, entered into their affairs, and showed them that he could not only understand their joys and sorrows, but feel with them. He liked also to eat a mouthful of their food, as a token of friendship. “I always eat with people,” said he, “either breaking a piece from off a biscuit or cutting a crust from a loaf, to show them that I am disposed to feel at home among them; for, even if they are very poor, there are many ways of returning the kindness without wounding the feelings of the party by whom the hospitable disposition is manifested.” So he has been known to eat two or three potatoes in a cottage, and give a shilling pleasantly for each one of them. His visits were designedly short. He was aware that a lengthened stay might inconvenience the family, and spoil the good effect of the interview. He did not, therefore, as he once termed it, “make a dose of himself where he went,” or turn what he wished to be an agreeable visit into a disagreeable visitation.

But in [being] the genial friend he never forgot [to be] the pastor, but reproved, exhorted, gave counsel, and offered consolation, as the case demanded; while among intelligent young people he would bring out of the stores of his classical and eastern reading in example, an anecdote, or an illustration, which gave additional interest and force to the precept he wished to inculcate. Thus: — THE DIVINE MERCY OUR ONLY REFUGE It was once demanded of the fourth khalif, Aalee: “If the canopy of heaven were a bow, and the earth were the cord thereof; if calamities were arrows, and mankind were the mark for them; and if Almighty God, the Tremendous and Glorious, were the unerring Archer; to whom could the sons of Adam flee for protection?” The khalif answered, saying, — “The sons of Adam must flee unto the Lord.”

THE HASTY SHOULD GIVE THEMSELVES TIME

The philosopher Athenodorus, who had long resided in the court of Augustus, petitioned the emperor to allow him at length to retire to some quiet retreat, where he might end his days in solitude and peace. The request was granted, and on taking leave of the emperor he ventured to give his sovereign the following precept: — “Caesar! I have an advice to give thee: Whensoever thou art angry, take heed that thou never say or do anything until thou hast distinctly repeated to thyself the twenty-five letters of the alphabet.” “Athenodorus!” exclaimed the emperor, seizing his hand, “thou must not leave me; I have still need of thee.”

CORRUPTING BOOKS

Reference being made to a work, the general tendency of which was bad, though it contained many well-written and brilliant passages, and one of these being quoted with admiration, Mr. Clarke said: “The Persian poet Hafiz borrowed the first couplet of his Divan from an Arabic poet of disreputable morals. His friends wondered at it, and some remonstrated.

Hafiz vindicated himself by saying that the lines contained a fine sentiment; to which one of the objectors replied, ‘ The lion would disgrace himself were he to snatch a bone from the mouth of a dog!’ “ Mr. Clarke urged upon his people the necessity of a thorough conversion, and a constant effort for moral improvement; of all that is implied in working out our salvation, while God works within to will and to do. “Remember,” he would say, “that the power that cleanses is needed to keep us clean. It is by Christ dwelling in our hearts by faith that we are preserved in holiness; and He dwells in the heart of those only who are lovingly obedient to His voice. Obedience to the will of God is the very element in which the Christian should live. Seek out His commandments till you find none left; seek to do them at all times, and in all places. How blessed to do this!” “You tell me,” said he to one, “that God has opened your eyes: can you tell me that He is keeping them open?” So, not only as when present, but when absent also, he bore in mind those whom he had once served in the Gospel. Some of his letters are thoroughly pastoral.

Here is an extract from one, written to a lady who was mourning the loss of her husband: — “I am well aware that grief like yours can be alleviated by God alone; but it must increase the distress of your situation to find a former friend careless or unaffected. God condescended to make me a messenger of peace to your dear husband; and how much I loved him, you, and every branch of your family, it is impossible for me to tell. My love was such that your joys overjoyed me, and all your troubles deeply affected me If it be now impossible for me to comfort you, it is as much so for me not to sympathize with you But the good, the merciful God needs no entreaty to come in to your assistance. He is the Fountain of endless love. He knows what He has called you to pass through; and, as He has ordained the trial, so has He the measure of strength necessary to support you under it. Yes, my dear sister, He loves you, and will never leave you, no, never forsake you He spared your dear husband, that he might know His name and receive His salvation; and then, perceiving the evil that was in his way, and perhaps would have proved his ruin, He has taken him to Himself from the evil to come. This we are always authorized to say in such cases, as we are fully assured God does all things well, and never willingly afflicts the children of men And what a wonderful and encouraging saying is this, — ‘ Thy Maker is thy Husband!’ and He is thy husband’s God. Then, my sister, if you cannot as yet rejoice, you can submit to His will, and confide in His mercy, knowing that this also, distressing as it is, will work for your good “A few days ago I was called to visit a family in distress. One child was dead; the father was just put into his coffin, and the mother expired a few moments after I went in. Things are never so ill, but they might be worse. May your father’s God, and the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, be your comfort and support, and save you and yours unto eternal life!”

In his Commentary on the New Testament, we often meet with sentiments and precepts relating to the pastoral office, which were evidently transcribed from an imprint which the Divine hand had made on his own heart, and which it was the study of his life to carry out into practice. “Here,” writes he, “is the difference between the hireling and the good shepherd. The hireling counts the sheep his own no longer than they are profitable to him; the good shepherd looks upon them as his, so long as he can be profitable to them.” “A good shepherd conducts his flock where good pasturage is to be found, watches over them while there, brings them back again, and secures them in the fold. So he that is called and taught of God feeds the flock of Christ with those truths of His word which nourish them unto eternal life, and God blesses together both the shepherd and the flock; so that, going out and coming in, they find pasture.”

We will now resume our narrative. Mr. Clarke was about to enter upon a vast field of ministerial labor in the metropolis. He went into it trusting alone in God, whose present Spirit could be his only sufficiency. To save one soul from hell, or to guide one man from earth to heaven, is a task to which no mere human wisdom or work is adequate. But he who hears the voice which says, “Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world,” will go about it in the strength of the Lord, making mention of His righteousness, even His only. Such was the frame of mind in which this single-hearted and faithful servant of the Lord endeavored to discharge the trust conferred by Him who in His providence had led him to the work, and by His grace had endowed him with those heavenly gifts which qualified him to do it, — “A prophet’s inspiration from above, A teacher’s knowledge, and a Saviour’s love.”

CHAPTER 3

THE PREACHER AND PASTOR CONTINUED

At the present time the Methodist communion has nine metropolitan Circuits; but in the year 1795, when Mr. Clarke received his appointment from the Manchester Conference, the whole of London, and much of the surrounding country, formed but one vast Circuit. It extended, in fact, from Woolwich to Twickenham, and from Edmonton to Dorking, with occasional visits to various outlying places, as Barking, St. Alban’s, &c.

There were about four thousand members in Society. The superintendent was Mr. Pawson; and Mr. Clarke’s other colleagues were Messrs.

Wrigley, West, Griffith, and Reece. His residence in John-street, Spitalfields, adjoined the chapel. Here he resumed, with greater intenseness than ever, the labors of his devoted life for, in addition to the great physical and intellectual efforts demanded by his pulpit and pastoral work, his mind was now beginning to put forth its strength in those literary toils which in their results have given him an abiding name. All his past studies had been but preparatory; and from the stores he had been accumulating, he felt it a law of God in his conscience to bring forth out of his treasury things new and old,” for the increase of learning, and the promotion of truth and piety among men. And more especially were his energies concentrated, in the study, on the elaboration of a Commentary on the holy Scriptures, to which he applied all the leisure time he could command; and this, from the very nature of his public engagements, could be only found in the early part of the day. One of Mendelssohn’s works has the title of Morning Hours;” and we are sure that Adam Clarke might have given a similar designation to the goodly array of volumes with which he has enriched our religious literature. We have in them the first fresh thinkings of his mind, — dew-drops glittering in the orient sun, or manna gathered in the prime. He knew that, unless the early time of the day were redeemed, his life would yield but little fruit in the field of literature. He became, therefore, a companion of the morning star. Later in the day he had to meet the calls of one duty after another, till it was time to take his accustomed journey for the pulpit and class-work of the evening. His duties in this last respect took him to various parts of the town, and places in the suburbs lying miles away from home. He either could not or would not avail himself of any means of conveyance; But usually performed his journeys on foot, except when appointed to Dorking. In this way, during his three years’ stay in the Circuit, he walked more than seven thousand miles. In these perambulations, he had an almost constant companion in Mr. Buttress, one of the leading Methodists of the Spitalfields chapel; whose name, as maintained by his descendants to the present day, is honorably cherished in the communion to which they have been steadfast. Wherever Mr. Clarke was seen in the pulpit, Mr. Buttress was to be found in the pew. He, of all men, would be prepared to give an opinion as to the monotony or manifoldness of his friend’s ministrations; and his testimony goes to affirm, that Mr. Clarke’s preaching was remarkable for its endless variety. To one who asked him whether he did not become tired with hearing the same discourses so often, he gave the reply, that he had never heard the same discourse twice, except on one occasion, when it was repeated at his own request. “Well,” returned the inquirer, “if you did not hear the same text, did he not take the same subject?” “No,” said Mr. Buttress, ‘not anything beyond the broad Gospel of Jesus Christ.” The results of these well-sustained exertions can only be unfolded in the final day. In the case of a Methodist minister, who co-operates with so many others in the same pulpit, it becomes peculiarly difficult to pronounce upon the measure of good effected by the ministry of one alone. No doubt, each of those good men, who labored so cordially in word and doctrine, had seals to his own ministry; and all of them enjoyed the solemn gratification of witnessing the progress of the work of God in their Circuit at large. Mr. Clarke did not long prosecute his work in London before he was cheered by the tokens of the Holy Spirit’s presence and grace in the gathering in of some who were the firstfruits of a more extensive harvest. Among these were two, whose conversion to God was productive of consequences of everlasting benefit to many more.

Mr. Joseph Butterworth, an opulent law-publisher in London, had married Miss Anne Cooke, the sister of Mrs. Adam Clarke. Mr. Butterworth, though the son of a Baptist minister, (author of a well-known Concordance to the Holy Scriptures,) was not, at that time, a decidedly religious man, nor under any influences which would prepossess him in favor of Methodism. Still, as Mr. Clarke was his brother-in-law, though personally unknown to him, he felt a sort of curiosity to hear him. The effect the sermon had upon him led Mr. B. to hasten the fulfillment of a purpose to call on him, and to seek a personal acquaintance. He accordingly went the next day with his lady to Spitalfields. Mrs. Butterworth had not seen her sister for years, as, from the disinclination Mrs. Cooke had entertained for her daughter’s marriage with Mr. Clarke, but little intercourse had obtained between the families. These old things, however, were now passing away, and the two sisters were enabled to renew the friendship of their earlier day s under the sanctifying benedictions of religion. Learning that Mr.

Clarke was going to preach that evening at Leytonstone, Mr. Butterworth offered to accompany him.

On the road Mr. Clarke soon perceived that the mind of his brother-ia-law was awakened to serious inquiry about the way of salvation; and the little journey passed rapidly in animated conversation on the things of God. In fact, the “vital spark of heavenly flame” had been kindled in Mr.

Bufterworth’s heart; and on the way homeward he disclosed to Mr.

Clarke, that, while hearing him preach on the preceding Sunday, he had received impressions of the truth which had moved him to seek the grace of repentance unto life; that a sense of guilt and depravity had arisen in his conscience; and that it was his great desire and determination to find the mercy which alone could save him. Right gladly did Mr. Clarke point out to him the way to the attainment of peace with God, through Jesus Christ; and when, after supper, the visitors having gone home, Mr. Clarke related to his wife the conversation which had taken place between himself and her brother-in-law, his gratification was greatly enhanced by learning that the sisters had spent the evening in converse on the same theme. Mrs.

Butterworth had participated with her husband in the Divine influence which attended the discourse on Sunday, and acknowledged that she had come for the purpose of conferring with her sister about the things belonging to her eternal peace. Equally remarkable it is, that both these inquirers after the pardoning mercy of G od found the grace they were seeking while hearing another sermon from Mr. Clarke. The friendship established under these auspicious circumstances received an eternal seal.

Joined to the Lord in one spirit, and in one hope of their calling, they spent their remaining days in the service of their redeeming God; and, being gathered “into the ark of Christ’s church,” “steadfast in faith, joyful through hope, and rooted in charity,” so passed “the waves of this troublesome world,” as to come together “to the land of everlasting life.”

The Butterworths, having given their hearts to the Lord, gave their hands at once to His cause, and as members of the Methodist communion adorned the doctrine of their Saviour in a life fragrant with devotion and beneficence. In the church, Mr. Butterworth long sustained most influential offices; and in the world, whether as a mercantile man, as a patron and manager of various philanthropic institutions, or as a diligent and effective member of Parliament, he stood for many years conspicuous among the best men of his time.

In the London Circuit at large, Mr. Clarke, and his excellent colleagues, had the great encouragement of witnessing the tokens of Divine mercy in those signs and wonders of salvation by which much people were turned to the Lord. In writing to a friend at Liverpool, he describes this work as an outpouring of the Spirit of God such as he had never seen before. “Every part of the city seemed to partake of it. The preachings were well attended, and a gracious influence rested on the people. After the regular service we have a prayer-meeting, in which much good is done. The first movement took place in our Sunday-schools; and in Spitalfields, New Chapel, West-street, and Snow’s-fields, simultaneously. Several sheets of paper would not suffice to give you even a general idea of what is going on.

Last night we had our lovefeast. For about half an hour the people spoke: when all was ended in that way, we exhorted and prayed with many who were in great mental distress. We remained four hours in these exercises.

You might have seen small parties praying in separate parts of the chapel at the same time. The mourning was like that of Hadadrimmon; every family seemed to mourn apart. We who prayed circulated through the whole chapel, above and below, adapting our prayers and exhortations to the circumstances of the mourners. Many were pardoned; to others strong hope was vouchsafed, and then was the advice given by each to his neighbor to believe in Jesus: ‘He has pardoned me O, do not doubt, seeing He has had mercy upon me, the vilest of sinners! One scene particularly affected me. A young man, recently married to an unconverted young woman, persuaded her to kneel down with two others who were in deep distress. Presently she was cut to the heart: I visited them backward and forward, at least a score times. After they had been about three hours in this state, the young woman found peace, and in a short time the other two entered into liberty. When the young fellow found his wife praising God for His mercy, he was almost transported with joy; he sung, prayed, and praised; and great indeed was their mutual glorying, and so was ours on their behalf. Well, thus we continued, until at a late hour I prevailed on the people, with some difficulty, to go home. We are trying to get these meetings shortened. If friends Russell, Robinson, &c., were here, they would be in their element.”

The population in that part of London where Mr. Clarke resided has always comprised large masses of the poor and destitute; and, in seasons of commercial depression, the poor of Spitalfields have been subjected to great distress. This was the case during his sojourn in that neighborhood; and it well accorded with the disposition of his heart, aching so often at the sight of so much misery, to he associated with a number of the Society of Friends, who had formed themselves into an union for distributing bread and soup to the famishing. For that respectable body he then formed an esteem which he cherished through life, and which, on their part, was strongly reciprocated.

From the severe toil of the Circuit, and the constant tension of his mind, as well for the pulpit as the press, his health became now so disordered as to compel him to obey the requirement of his medical advisers, to retire for a short time into the country. He spent, therefore, a little while at the seaside in Kent, where he was greatly revived by the pleasant air and scenery of the coast; and then took a short tour into Warwickshire, where the ruins of Kenilworth, and the baronial halls of Warwick Castle, afforded him a delight which he has vividly described in his letters to his family at home. At Coventry, he formed an acquaintance with the venerable Mr.

Butterworth, the father of his brother-in-law, and had the pleasure of occupying the aged minister’s pulpit. Though this effort did not contribute to augment his slowly-returning strength, it was attended by the satisfaction of knowing that it was not made in vain. “Yesterday,” he writes, “I had indeed sore work. I preached three times, and at least an hour each time. I was much at liberty, and really believe much good was done. The old gentleman and all his flock seem highly pleased. The people are absolutely (pro tempore) turning Methodists, without knowing it.

Several of Mr. Butterworth’s disaffected members, who have not been in his chapel for many months, came twice yesterday, and are likely to continue.” And in another letter: “On Friday evening I preached at our own place, and had the house full. Most of Mr. Butterworth’s family were there, and the principal members of his church. Never did such death-like attention occupy an assembly during the hour that I insisted on Matt. vii. 7: ‘Ask, and ye shall receive,’ &c. The good old man’ got almost into the seventh heaven: had it not been that I made the full salvation of God too easy to be attained, he might have walked that evening into paradise. I believe a general quickening took place among all, and I need not tell you how our Joseph and his wife were affected.” And again: “This morning we were to have set off for Birmingham; but I found myself so much indisposed, and I did not like the thought of setting off in such a tempest.

Weary as I am, I must preach tonight at our own place, and tomorrow night at Mr. Butterworth’s; after which I am to take coach for London, and ride all night. If this be not the way to wear out, it is certainly not the way to rust out.”

With somewhat recruited health, Mr. Clarke resumed his engagements in London, and completed the third year of labor in that Circuit. He seems to have worked in perfect harmony with his colleagues, except about one difficulty which occurred in the case of Dr. Whitehead, who, having been ejected from the office of local preacher by the late superintendent, Mr.

Rogers, on account of what was deemed a dishonorable use of certain papers in preparing his biography of Mr. Wesley, was now making strenuous efforts for reinstatement on the Plan. In this he was seconded by many of the trustees, and had also the concurrence of Mr. Pawson and others of the preachers. Mr. Clarke, however, felt compelled to oppose the wishes of his excellent superintendent nor, though Mr. Whitehead was subsequently reinstated, could he ever modify the opinion he had formed on that subject. This little ruffle, however, soon passed away, and the current of friendship rolled on, with a deeper sense of esteem from the knowledge that each minister had of the other’s integrity; and the year, which had thus commenced under somewhat unpropitious influences, passed away in peace. And this was the case with the Connection at large, which within the last three years had been severely tried by the hostile movements of Mr. Kilham and his partisans. Into the details of that wretched controversy we have no inclination to enter. Its rise and progress are matters of Methodistic history and time, the great prover of all things, has given such a verdict on the relative merits of the “Old” and the “New Connection,” as the friends of the former are most thankful to accept. One tempest has broken its force upon it after another, but Wesleyan Methodism was never so strong as it is today.

At the end of his third year, Mr. Clarke attended the Conference of at Bristol, which was held under the presidency of Mr. Benson. While there, he wrote to Mrs. Clarke, from time to time, some of the “Conference news.” “Notwithstanding our great losses by the Kilhamites, we have had,” says he, “a considerable increase this year. We are now, glory to the God of heaven, not less than 100,756 in Great Britain and Ireland. Strange to tell, all the Irish collections have increased. Mr. Mather, Mr. Benson, and others have been at me in private to go to Cornwall, and be general superintendent for the whole county. I am not very fond of ruling, yet I think it is possible I may be sent there The characters of the preachers examined — all gone through; and, among upwards of three hundred traveling preachers, not one charge of immorality brought against any soul: and yet everything was sifted to the heart. O, what thanks do we owe to God for thus preserving us from the corruptions of the world! A solemn exhortation was then given by Messrs. Benson, Mather, and Pawson, to all the brethren, that they should keep themselves pure.” He adds, pleasantly, “A few preachers were found guilty of long sleeves, cropped heads, and stringed shoes,” (the buckles cast away!) “and severely reprimanded. After all, never was there a body of men in the world who winked less at any appearance of evil than these; and I solemnly believe no body of Christian ministers, since the world began, so large, was ever found more blameless.”

At this Conference, Mr. Clarke was a good deal busied in settling on a legal basis the Preachers’ Annuitant Society, to which he became for a time both treasurer and secretary. In the prosperity of this institution he ever took a lively interest, from his sympathy for the aged and disabled laborers in a field in which he himself was fast wearing out strength and health, as well as on account of the modicum of comfort its scanty resources would afford to the widow and orphan. Among some papers before me there is a memorandum by Mrs. R. Smith, relating to this point, which I shall do well to insert: — “My father was remarkable for the zealous care he manifested over any trust committed to him, though he undertook a charge of that nature very unwillingly. At one period it was his duty to receive the dividends of the Preachers’ Annuitant Society. Having casually learned that the broker who transacted the business of the dividends had involved himself in speculations, he determined to apply for the money as so on as it could be received from the Bank, and, requesting me to accompany him, entered the counting-house of the gentleman in question, who, seated at his desk, received this unexpected visit not very graciously. ‘ I am come, sir, for the dividend on the Preachers’ Annuitant Society.’ ‘ I am very busy, sir, and cannot attend to it now,’ was the reply. ‘ I am very sorry to inconvenience you, sir; and, as I myself am in a hurry, will only trouble you to hand it to me, and not intrude any further on your time.’ ‘ I cannot give it to you now, sir, having much more important business here before me.’ ‘ Why, it will not take you long to hand it to me and then I will leave you to your business, and go away on my own. The gentleman, displeased at seeing him so determined, said, ‘ I cannot be interrupted, Mr. Clarke, nor possibly give it to you now: upon which my father said, in a voice of resolute firmness, ‘ Sir, I stand here on behalf of the widows and orphans of God’s church, and claim for them the money you hold, which that church has raised for their support. They speak by my mouth, and I will not leave till you put the money into my hand. The money, sir, and I am gone.’ The money was paid; and my father took his leave, satisfied that he had performed a just though painful duty.” Mr. Clarke’s connection with this legalized fund extended over several years.

The close of the Conference left him appointed for the second time to Bristol, under the superintendency of that truly good man, Mr. Walter Griffith. They found the Society but slowly recovering from the shattering effects of the storm of controversy which had assailed it from opposite quarters: from the anti-sacramental bigotry of the trustees and their partisans, on the one extreme, and the ultra-democracy of the new Kilhamite school on the other. It seems, however, to have been the determination of the new preachers to know nothing among those quarrelsome people save Jesus and Him crucified; well knowing that, if Christ came, He would bring peace with Him. The spirit with which Adam Clarke went to work, and the encouragements which sustained him, become apparent in a letter dated about a month after his arrival in the Circuit: — “Through mercy, we are all well. Last Sunday was my turn at Kingswood and Wick. I had a large congregation in the morning, and such a sense of the presence of God rested on us all as some of the oldest members said they had never felt before. I took that glorious subject: ‘ How excellent is Thy loving-kindness, O God!’ &c. My own soul was greatly watered, and the Lord sent a plentiful rain on His inheritance.

Though the place was thronged, there was not a sound in it save that of my own voice; till, describing how God gave to those who turned to Him to ‘drink of th e river of His pleasure,’ — to be filled with the very thing which made God Himself happy, — I raised my voice, and inquired, in the name of the living God, ‘ Who was miserable? Who was willing to be saved? to be made happy? Who was athirst?’ A wretched being, who had long hardened his heart by a course of uncommon wickedness, roared out: ‘ I am, Lord! I am! I am!’ In a moment there was a general commotion. I seized the instant, and told them to compose themselves and listen; for I had something more to tell them — something for every soul, a great, an eternal good. I am just going to open to you another stream of ‘the river of His pleasure.’ They were immediately composed; and in a very few moments such a flood of tears streamed down all cheeks as you have perhaps never seen, and all was silence but the sighings which escaped, and the noise made by the poor fellow who was still crying to God for mercy.

In about half-an-hour we ended one of the most solemn and blessed meetings I ever ministered in. I was t hen obliged to set off for Wick, a place several miles farther. Here I had a good congregation. “You will wish to know what became of the poor man, and I am glad I can tell you. I had it yesterday from one of the leaders at Kingswood. When he left the chapel, he set off for the first prayermeeting he could find, thinking God would never forgive his sins till he made confession unreservedly of all his iniquities. He began in the simplicity of his soul, and, with an agonized heart, and streaming eyes, made known the evils of his life. They prayed with him, and God gradually brought him into the liberty of His children.”

In the following month Mr. Clarke was called to mourn the death of his father, who had been declining in health for some time, and latterly so much so as to excite a strong desire in the mind of his son to go down to Lancashire to see him, and receive his blessing. But the unavoidable business which pressed upon him on entering his new Circuit at the tickettime, and his own domestic circumstances, obliged him still to delay, till, to his great grief, the opportunity had for ever passed. He had written, however, “to an old and very intimate friend, John Berwick, Esq., of Manchester, entreating him to watch over his father, and to minister to his comfort.” Mr. Berwick fulfilled the request, and attended the invalid to the last. “When I arrived this forenoon,” he writes to Mr. Clarke, announcing the solemn event of his parent’s [father’s] decease, “I found him much altered indeed He was seated in his chair, but wanted to be removed into bed. I wished to have your desire of ‘ a line from his own hand.’ I therefore put a table before him, and paper, and put the pen in his hand. He faintly said, ‘ I only wish to send my blessing.’ He was very happy, and willing to die. After he had written the few words, he was got into bed, and appeared better. I thought he might survive a few hours, and therefore took my leave of him, and told him I would return. He asked God to bless me, very loud. At my return I found he had just gone to glory, without a groan.

I had spoken to him respecting you. I told him, I thought it well you had not been sent for, as you could have done him no good. He said he was perfectly satisfied; for, if you had suffered from the effects of the journey, he should have been very unhappy. He added, that he had no pain, and that one moment in eternity would compensate for all he had suffered here.”

On the same sheet of paper is the last benediction: — “May the blessing of God, and a dying father’s blessing, ever be upon you all, my children. I die full of hope, and happy. — John Clarke.

God bless you all. Adam=Mary, William = Mary, Tracy-all-all.

Amen.”

Under this sacred record are to be seen the following lines: — “These words my precious father wrote an hour and a half before he went to glory. — Adam Clarke.”

Mr. Clarke was deeply affected by this event. He expressed himself “as if the bands of life were loosened from around him, and his mental and physical powers almost brought down together to the sides of the grave.”

He sent immediately for his widowed mother, who came and resided with him till he left Bristol, when she went to live with her daughter, Mrs.

Enley, who was then settled in that city. Mr. Clarke, senior, was buried in Ardwick churchyard, Manchester. His tombstone, which is inscribed, “To JOHN CLARKE, M.A.,” states that he died in the sixty-second year of his age. So rested this learned, honest, and laborious man from the toils and disappointments of mortality. Ever afterward his son Adam, passing that churchyard, either on foot or riding, uncovered his head the whole length of the cemetery; a token of the reverence and love which all through life he cherished for his father’s memory.

This was not the only circumstance which threw a shadow over the present year. It was a time of universal gloom. The thunderclouds of war darkened the political sky; commercial adversity shut up the warehouse of the merchant; and want, approaching to famine itself, reigned in the cottage. “These,” writes he, “are troublous times; and we need to watch and pray always, that we may be accounted worthy to escape the things which are apparently coming upon us, and to stand before the Son of Man.” A member of his family, reverting to those days, observes: “This year, and the succeeding one, were marked by circumstances of unusual scarcity. All ranks felt and acknowledged the distress as a judgment: the rich voluntarily ceased from a consumption of flour in the way of elegant indulgences; the middle classes found it difficult to support their families, through the scarceness of all provisions; and the poor sought from door to door a handful of food to save them from dying. Alas! they could not always meet with ev en this, and numbers of them perished from mere starvation. From the effects of this distress Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, and their infant family, suffered in common with others; but they concealed their necessities, in order not to draw upon the sympathies of their friends, and frequently denied themselves a sufficiency of food, to save a part of each day’s allotment of provisions to share with the wretched applicants who were in still greater need than themselves. Mr. Clarke would often talk to his little ones on the subject, and show them their starving fellowcreatures, who, in cold, nakedness, and famine, sought relief; and each would put by a bit of the breakfast or supper for the poor. At its distribution they were all present, and thus were taught to see and feel the blessings which follow self-denial, in the happiness it yielded to others.

Thus did he early train his little flock to feel for others, and to love them as their brethren.”

Mr. Clarke probably referred to this thing time, when, many years after, on a visit to Bristol, he casually met with an old timepiece, which had formerly belonged to him. “That clock,” said he, “I sold in this city, for the mere purpose of buying bread for my children.”

But, in the midst of these depressions, his mental activity never flagged.

He had entered the arena of literary life, and was fast rising into notice as an author. To the works of Mr. Clarke we will devote an exclusive chapter further on, and be content at present with observing that, after throwing off some occasional pieces in the Arminian Magazine, (among which was a curious paper on Judicial Astrology, condensed, apparently, from Barclay’s Argenis,”) he published in 1707 his “Dissertation on the Use and Abuse of Tobacco.” These slight efforts were now followed up by a Translation of Sturm’s “Reflections,” and the advancement of a work in Bibliography, which afterward appeared in the form of a Dictionary, which has long had a high place in the esteem of men of letters; together with two smaller publications, — an Account of the Polyglot Bibles, and a Catalogue Raisonne of the principal Editions of the Greek Testament. To these latter works, which evince prodigious reading, scholarship, and indefatigable industry, we shall have occasion ere long to revert. We name them here, to show in what incessant efforts he must have been filling up his measured days. Nor should it be omitted, that all the while he was diligently engaged with the Commentary on the New Testament; of which he had now finished the Notes on the first two Gospels, and some other parts of the sacred Volume. It is with Mr. Clarke as a preacher and pastor that the present stage of our recollections has to do. Let us hear him speak on these matters for himself: — “Last Sabbath I was at Kingswood. The thronging together of the people was truly astonishing. The chapel was thronged, and the grave is not more silent than was that crowd of listening people.

While preaching, I felt a strong persuasion that God would visit them. I told them so, and it had a good effect on all; they heard for eternity, and I could not help joining in the prayer of one of them, — ‘O God, save all, save all!’ “I had a sore day last Sabbath fortnight. Rode twenty-four miles, gave tickets in three places, preached three times, and had not a morsel either of flesh, fish, or fowl, or good red herring, all day; neither wine nor strong drink; only about half-past twelve got a few potatoes, and as much as I pleased of a small beer.” (He sometimes fared thus meagerly, from his inveterate dislike to bacon and pork. His brethren who had no such antipathies made a hearty dinner when our friend could eat only the potatoes.) “The work of God goes on nobly at Kingswood. There is a new place taken in, the worst in all the wood: it is called Cock-road. As the inhabitants were all sons of Belial, no person dared to go into the place for fear of being knocked on the head. There are thirty of these miserable sinners now joined in class, and several of them have found peace with God. The devil has sustained a heavy loss in that quarter.”

Referring to this neighborhood afterward, he says: “The work still goes on gloriously at Cock-road. One man, the vilest of the vile, hearing that several of his companions were converted, and that they prayed publicly, said, ‘So Tom prays, and Jack prays: what can they say? I’ll go and hear;’ and away he went, and got to a prayer-meeting, where every soul seemed engaged with God but himself. At last the power of God seized upon the wretch’s heart, and he exclaimed, ‘One prays, and another prays, — I’LL PRAY;’ and down he fell, and began in his way to cry to God for the salvation of his soul. This human fiend, who could scarcely utter a word without an oath, is now transformed into a saint, and is walking in all meekness and gentleness and uprightness before God. What could effect this change but the Almighty power of the grace of Christ? “We had a genuine lovefeast yesterday at Kingswood. How little, how unutterably little, did all the partisans of infidelity and their opinions appear in the business of that day! We had some very affecting testimonies, and some uncommon ones. I began at first to take notes of them; but soon found that, if I continued them, I should lose the spirit and good of them to my own soul. A young man delivered a speech of at least twenty minutes in length concerning his conversion. He was a collier [coal-miner]; it was impressive beyond description; and so great was the whole, that to me the parts are uncollectible. Some very great ideas were produced by those plain unlettered men. One of them, recently brought to God, endeavored at first to get rid of his convictions; but such was the agony of his soul, and such its continuance, that nature was exhausted. ‘On awaking one morning,’ he said, ‘ I felt ashamed to look at the daylight, much more to look at God. I roared for the disquietude of my soul. I called mightily for mercy. No answer. At last I tumbled me out of bed, and prayed with all my soul. I then drew out my three little children, told them to kneel down, and say their prayers for their father.’ It is needless to add, that his own prayers, and those of his three little innocents to God, brought a speedy answer of peace to his spirit; in which salvation he continues to walk in a most exemplary way.”

Christian! does not your heart melt at these recitals? Let not the men of rituals and formulas tell us of the scandal of these transgressions of ecclesiastical routine. He who understands the true spirit of the apostolic constitutions knows that these proceedings both fulfill the purpose for which the apostles labored, and harmonize with every canon they ordained for the increase and stability of the Christian church.

Intense study, writing eight or ten hours a day, and the full work of a Methodist preacher’s life, had already made sad inroads on Mr. Clarke’s health. Towards the close of his time in Bristol, he says: “I was once a young man both without and within; but the outward young man is gone, though the inward still continues. I have only to say, that if my natural force be abated, my eye grown dim and my hair grey, long before the ordinary time of life, Satan cannot boast that these preternatural failures have taken place in his service, or were ever, either directly or indirectly, occasioned by it. Blessed be God!”

A journey now and then served to withdraw his attention from study, and invigorate mind and body for further labor. Thus, in January, 1799, he goes to London. From some characteristic letters to Mrs. Clarke, written while on that visit, we set down a few sentences: — “Yesterday morning I preached at City-road. Though the people had not got much notice, yet there was a large congregation. I preached on Romans 4-6. It was an uncommon subject, and I found considerable liberty. Almost all my old Mercuries were there, and I think most of the trustees. Many were ready to half-eat me. I went thence to Mr. Bulmer’s to dine with Mr. and Mrs.

Sundius, Mr. and Mrs. Butterworth, and Mr. Edward. I then went to Spitalfields, and preached at three: here was a large congregation, and by the time I had done my strength was finished. I then went to see Mr.

Johnson, thence to Mr. Fisher’s, thence to Mr. Williams’s, thence to W_____, where our dinner-party supped together with Mr. and Mrs.

Buttress. They departed at eleven , and I stayed all night. This morning, after breakfast, I set off again; for Mr. Sundius had given me two guineas to give to the poor of my acquaintance. I gave both to _____, and it was a time of need, as they are much in debt for the necessaries of life. I gave him also a guinea to pay for me at the Widows’ Relief. Thence to Mr.

Williams’s. They are both very low, having lost both their children; thence to Mr. Cressall’s, thence to Mr. Reece’s; thence to the soup-house, where I got a very good and highly-acceptable bason. I met with Mr. Bevan, who was very glad to see me, and took me to his house in Plough-court. He has got up the residue of the yearly epistles. I called in at Mr. Baynes’s at one o’clock. They were going to dinner. I sat down and ate with them. I hope to sup this evening at Mr. Middleton’s. I have not had a quarter of a night’s sleep since I left. Tomorrow I serve at the soup-house.”

More than a year afterwards, (March, 1801,) he takes another excursion into Cornwall. From the kind of epistolary journal sent by several posts to Mrs. Clarke, on this excursion, we will also take a few passages: — “My Most Excellent And Beloved Mary, “We left Bristol about five minutes before six o’clock, and came in safely and slowly eighteen miles to a place called Cross, where we got breakfast at nine o’clock. I had some cold beef, and made a breakfast like an ancient Briton. We soon got under weigh; in all, eight passengers. Through Bridgewater we came to Taunton, where a dinner was provided of roast swine and boiled swine, with a miserable knuckle of veal. I asked for a bit of cold meat, and got some of a very miserable quality. They charged us each four shillings and ninepence. Once more off. The road most jolty, especially from Collumpton. Arrived at Exeter at a quarter to one.”

Leaving the city in a chaise, “through a bad road indeed, got to Crockerton a little after twelve. The good folks were gone to bed, and the landlady rose with her child of fourteen months old, which I lugged about while she lighted a fire and got us a comfortable supper. We again set off, Dark and rainy was the night; but we got over a rugged hop-jump way to Okehampton a t half-past three this morning. At half-past four proceeded, and, very much fatigued, got to Launceston at eight, where I now write. Thus God has conducted us in perfect safety to within sixteen miles of Camelford. Here we have just had breakfast, and are in expectation of horses, which Mr. Mabyn ordered to meet us. Well now, you see that the Lord cares for your queer, odd, good-for-little husband, I dare say you have been praying for me. Pray on, Mary! I have not taken this journey from any rambling disposition: I have felt reluctant to it, but think duty has compelled me, and I wait to see the issue. I shall not venture down into the west, as I am sure a month would not suffice to go to all the places I must visit, if I visited any one Tell John here is a very beautiful ancient castle, which I will tell him all about when I return.” “CAMELFORD, March 13th, “After waiting a long time in a most uncomfortable inn at Launceston, we ordered a chaise to set forward to Camelford; and, just as we were going to step into it, our horses came. Having fed them, we took the chaise for eleven miles, and made the servant follow us with his two Rossinantes, It was well we did; for we had a tempest all the way. When we came to the inn, I borrowed a large coat from the landlord, who is an acquaintance of Mr. Mabyn’s, mounted my (horse), and hobbled off for Camelford. After many stumbles and blunders I got safely to Mr. Mabyn’s at three o’clock, where we found dinner waiting. In the journey from Launceston to Camelford I passed by Tregear, once the residence of my old affectionate friend, T. Baron, Esq. He went safely to heaven some years ago; and his nephew, who was a young lad at school when I was formerly in these parts, became heir to his uncle’s estates, and, if possible, more than supplied his place. He turned early to God. Married to a young lady like-minded, they enjoyed in their family all that earth can afford of felicity, and all that Satan could envy. God also lived in them, and they lived in God. Affliction is the lot of all. Death made an inroad in their little family by removing a beloved child; and the same dart that pierced the child passed through the father’s heart as well. He followed his child to the grave, and in five days went into it. The ways of God are in the great deep.” “March 14th. — After dinner I went to Michaelstow, to see my old afflicted friend Miss Hocken, whom an unaccountable nervous disorder has confined for thirty years mostly to her room. One of the finest and most sensible women in Cornwall. She was exceedingly glad to see me, and I spent more than an hour in profitable conversation with a woman who obliged me to leave the surface and go to the bottom of the different subjects we discussed.

Tell John and Theo., that in this journey I observed several things which strongly indicated that the country hereabout has suffered much from some natural violence. I observed one place where a mountain seems to have been rent in twain: the corresponding parts on either side are nearly half a mile from each other. There is a deep valley between them, at the bottom of which a river has found its readiest course On my return, Rough Tor, the highest mountain in Cornwall, rose on my right hand. On its top two peaks, or, rather, large rocks. On the western point there is, I am informed, a very fine Druidic monument, — an altar, with on immense stone poised on the top of another, and so equally balanced in the center that a person can move it. Round about are large basons scooped out of the rock, which communicate by little conduits with each other, and which appear to have been used for libations, or to receive the blood of the sacrifices Last evening I had a pleasing visit from Mr.

Pearse, the duke of Bedford’s steward, and several others. Mr. P., who is one of the excellent of the earth, I joined to the Society seventeen years ago. “March 16th. — I am, thank God, as well as you could expect me to be on Monday, after such a day’s work. Yesterday morning I preached a long and (for me) good sermon on the purpose and design of the Lord’s Supper; after which I administered that sacred ordinance to the Society. Many were in tears all the time; and several, I believe, took the sacramentum, or military oath, to be the faithful followers of Christ for ever. As I had been speaking from half-past ten to nearly one, I felt great reluctance to preach again at two, especially as one of their own preachers was present; but they would take no denial: even Mr. Mabyn himself seemed to have no pity, and I was obliged to work once more. I see what would have been my fate had I gone to the west. I am afraid our people never imagine that speaking, as they call it, can hurt a man: but this also must be borne with. We had now a very lively meeting, with a multitude of elephantine Amens. By the evening the news had spread far and wide, and we had many from four to ten miles round, and I suppose at least two-thirds of the inhabitants of Camelford. All that the chapel could possibly hold came in, and the rest stood without, cold and uncomfortable as the night was. I worked nearly from six to eight. On my concluding, they struck up a prayer-meeting, and continued it till nine, at which almost all that were in the house during the preaching continued.

When I got home, I was supremely wearied. “I am now preparing to set off for Port-Isaac, about ten miles.” (Here follow some antiquarian descriptions.) “I have had a pleasing interview with a young gentleman from India: he reads Persian and Arabic with the true accent, and they come out of his mouth like oil. He is quite a man of science, and has joined the Society here, and met yesterday in class the first time I hope to reach Plymouth toward the end of this week, and spend the Lord’s day there. The longer I stay away, the more earnestly I desire to return.”

These letters, of which there is quite a packet, abound with picturesque descriptions of the country, and some curious information on the archaeological remains in that part of Cornwall; the substance of which, with enlargements, the reader may find in the Doctor’s Miscellaneous Works. He appears to have enriched the letters with these topics for the instruction of his children, who were now reaching the years when the mind begins to hunger after knowledge. Happy the young people who could value and improve the advantage of having a father who was able to nourish their minds, as well as their bodies, with food convenient for them!

Mr. Clarke returned to Bristol to fill up the remaining months of his period there in those duties which tended, by the Divine blessing, to the enlargement and upbuilding of the congregations of the Circuit, both in town and country. Neither he nor his colleagues were permitted to spend their strength for nought. Large multitudes were drawn, from week to week, to hear words whereby they might be saved. The impenitent were awakened and made thoughtful; the seeker found; the more advanced in the spiritual life were led further heavenward; and God in all things was glorified.

CHAPTER 4

THE PREACHER AND PASTOR CONTINUED

By the Conference of 1801 Mr. Clarke was appointed for the second time to the Liverpool Circuit. A Methodist minister is called to suffer more than many other men, from the breaking up of that friendly intercourse with congenial minds which yields so much consolation to our life. In Bristol, during the last three years, old friendships had been more strongly confirmed, and new ones, both in the circles of religion and of literature, contracted, which contributed to render this new exodus the more inconvenient to his personal feelings. In the present case, however, he had the advantage of coming among a people who were not unknown to him; by whom indeed, for his work’s sake in days that were past, he was welcomed now as a heartily-trusted friend, and by not a few of them revered as a messenger of the Lord.

He entered on these renewed engagements with an intellect amplified by the studies and trials of the intervening years, and a heart more richly than ever replete with the graces which the Holy Spirit makes perfect in the faithful; but with a physical constitution too greatly enfeebled by exhaustion to grapple with the obligations of the Methodist itinerancy. He was often now taken suddenly ill, so as to be in an instant deprived of sensation; and on one occasion the seizure was so ominous, that his friends anticipated the most distressing results. He staggered on, however, with his work, both in the study and the Circuit, till in the following April he was obliged to be taken to London for the best medical advice. It is then that he announces to Mrs. Clarke the very serious view which an eminent practitioner took of his case: — “I went this morning with Mr.

Butterworth to consult Mr. Pearson; who said, ‘You must totally cease from all mental and bodily exertion, except such as you may take in cultivating a garden, or riding on horseback. I know not whether your disease be not too far advanced to be cured. The ventricles of your heart are in a state of disease; and, if you do not totally and absolutely abstain from reading, writing, preaching, &c., you will die speedily, and you will die suddenly. Did I not believe you to be in such a state of mind as not to be hurt at this declaration, I would have suppressed it; but, as matters are, I deem it my duty to be thus explicit, and assure you that, if you do not wholly abstain for at least twelve months, you are a dead man! Now, my dear Mary, you must not believe all this; but we will talk the business over when I see you. If I find I cannot do my work, I will give it up. I will not feed myself to starve the church of God. I will seek out some other way of maintaining my wife and my children.” With this alternative, he was compelled to give some remission to his habitual efforts; and with such good effect, that at the following Conference he was enabled to contemplate the resumption of labor as not altogether unwarrantable, though with some hesitation about the locality, as Mrs. Clarke’s health was at that time in a precarious state. We have his views on both these subjects in a letter from the Bristol Conference in July, 1802: — “My Very Dear Mary, “My good brother Gibson’s letter this morning has brought no small pain to my mind, and my anxious uncertainty at times is almost unbearable. Unless a more favorable account come soon, I must set off for Liverpool. Those shiverings continued alarm me to the extreme. Mr. G. complains that few people call to see you; but of this I am heartily glad. In staying away they will show more kindness than by coming to see you. I know not what to say or do in my appointment. If I thought Liverpool prejudicial to your health, I would have you removed immediately: for myself I feel no manner of anxiety. I cannot realize my own danger, if I am in any.

It is hidden from me. God prepare me for the worst! My brethren think there is little or nothing the matter with me; and I am determined to take up my whole work, and perform it, or die. This is my resolution, and from it I shall not move, God being my helper. Therefore I return to begin my work, as if I never had felt a pang of distress. You know my resolutions are not ye a and nay.

But I must add, that when, having tried my strength to the uttermost, I feel I cannot do the whole of my work, I will not starve the work of God to feed myself; but get some other employment, by which I can support my family without burdening the cause of God.”

They who wait upon the Lord renew their vigor. So found this brave servant of Christ. He went in the strength of the Lord God, making mention of His righteousness; and help came with every hour of duty. “The afflictions of this present” had the tendency to awaken him to more vivid perceptions of the things that are eternal; and the solemn review of life hitherto spent, and the ordeal to which, by the word of the Lord, he subjected the motives of his conduct, enabled him to thank God and take courage. “I came into the work,” says he, “with the purest motives, and now, probably standing on the brink of eternity, can say, no motive or end which I cannot acknowledge before God has ever influenced me for an hour. Notwithstanding my ignorance, which none could feel so much as myself, I have gotten wonderfully through, and have had as much favor in the sight of God’s people as was necessary for me to go on with some degree of success and comfort. The blessed God saw that he had sown a seed of uprightness in my so ul, which the weeds of sinister design or byends had never been permitted to impede the growth of, much less to choke. He has, therefore, preserved and blessed me for His own Name’s sake, and for the sake of that which, in eternal kindness, He had wrought and maintained in my heart.”

As a means of edification to several intelligent Christian friends, and of assistance in the pursuit of knowledge in its higher branches to young men of intellectual aspirations, Mr. Clarke formed in Liverpool this year a literary and scientific association, which took the title of a “Philological Society.” This he regularly organized; and, among other helps to development, supplied it with a long series of Questions and Theses for examination. Of these, I give a few as specimens [not in numerical sequence]: — “No. 3. What is an essay? and are there any rules by which this species of composition should he regulated? 12. Which of the arts and sciences can be proved to be most useful to mankind? 13. In what arts and sciences do the moderns excel the ancients? and vice versa. 9. Which is the most effectual way of disseminating useful knowledge among the lower ranks of society? 22. What is the difference between the will and the affections? and how may we distinguish the operations of the one from those of th e other? 21. What is conscience? 38. What is the difference between Heathen virtue and Christian morality? 4. What is the best method of bringing up children, so as to preserve their health, promote their growth, and improve their understanding? 23. What is the best method of treating domestics? 24. What is the best method of managing the thoughts? 28. What are those arguments for Divine revelation which, all Christians assert, have not been and can never be refuted? What is an idea?

Genius? Common sense? Enthusiasm? Sympathy? A gentleman? To what causes can the diversity of dialects in a living language be attributed? 159.

Required, an essay on the antiquity, genius, perfections, and utility of each of the following languages: Hebrew, Arabic, Persian, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, German, and English; with an account of the most classical and important philological works in each. 160. Required, a grammar of each of the above languages, that, in quantity of matter and simplicity of expression, shall be brought within the reach of the capacity of children. 161. Required, short, plain, comprehensive treatises on the elements of arithmetic, geography, astronomy, geometry, &c.; for the use of the rising generation, and especially adapted to the circumstances of the children of the poor. 171. Required, an essay on the superiority of the civil institutions of Moses to those of Menu, Solon, and Lycurgus. 146.

Required, a short scriptural and rational essay on the Providence of God. 60. What further improvements are necessary in the government of parish workhouses? 169. Required, an essay on the Pythagoric doctrine of numbers, and the uses to which the Pythagoreans and Platonists applied the five regular solids, since termed Platonic bodies.” — On this last subject Mr. Clarke wrote a dissertation, which may be found in his Miscellaneous Works. It will be seen that these questions do not, all of them, come under the denomination of strict philology; but the wide sense in which he used that term he indicates in an address to the Society, where he observes, that “philology, in the modern acceptation of the word, is not so properly a science as an assemblage of several. It includes grammar, criticism, etymology, the interpretation of ancient authors, poetry, rhetoric, history, and antiquities: in a word, everything relating to ancient manners, laws, religion, government, and language.”

The Society met for conversation, discussion, and the consideration of written essays on the various themes of their studies. After some time, Mr. Clarke found he could state that the scheme worked well; that interesting and excellent papers were produced; and that good would be done to the minds and hearts of the members.

As to himself, he was working hard at the Bibliographical Dictionary, (the first volume of which he brought out at Liverpool,) and at the Notes upon the Holy Scriptures. In addition to these more weighty undertakings, he translated the Dissertation of Monsieur A. L. Millin on the Silver Disc which bears the name of “Scipio’s Buckler.” This was subsequently incorporated in his Miscellaneous Works.

Generations pass away, and the son follows the parent. As in his last Circuit Mr. Clarke had been called to mourn the decease of his father, so now another bereaving providence overtook him in the removal of his only brother, who died at Maghull, in his forty-fifth year. A biographic notice of this beloved relative from the pen of Dr. Clarke states, that, after having been brought up in childhood by his uncle, the clergyman after whom he was named, and instructed in the classics by his father, he was introduced to the medical profession, studying, after his apprenticeship, at Trinity, Dublin. He went out as surgeon in “a Guinea ship,” and in two voyages became a witness of the complicated cruelty and villainy of the African slave-trade, of which he has left in his journals some graphic details. “Filled with horror at this inhuman traffic, surgeon Clarke abandoned it after his second voyage: he married, and established himself at Maghull, eight miles from Liverpool, “in a wide neighborhood, at that time but ill supplied with medical practitioners where he had great success, winning the confidence of the people by his skillful treatment, his personal urbanity, and Christian rectitude of life. But his professional labors multiplied beyond his strength. At a time when in a delicate state of health, he was called out night after night in cold and tempestuous weather, till his remaining strength broke suddenly down, and he sank into a consumption.

In his last days, he was consoled by the affectionate attentions of his brother, from whose holy counsels and earnest prayers he found most timely help in passing through the dark vale of death. In a pocket-book of Dr. Clarke’s, there are the following memoranda: — “Sept. 6th, 1803. — I went to see my dying brother. He is in a very happy state of mind. “Sept. 15th. — Went to Maghull, and gave the sacrament to my dying brother. He is in great pain of body, but steadfast in his confidence in the Lord. “Sept. 16th. — Preached at Aintree, from Isaiah 54:13,14. My blessed brother died this evening at nine o’clock. “Sept. 17th. — I went over to see my dear brother’s remains.

Quantam mutatas ab illo!” — Changed indeed. But from the sight would not the minister of Christ feel fresh motive to work while it was yet with himself called today, in making known to dying men the truth and grace of that adorable Redeemer who is our refuge, our resurrection, and our life?

After two years’ residence at Liverpool, Mr. Clarke was re-appointed to Manchester, where a multitude of Christians, who had long learned to value his ministry, gave him a most grateful welcome. The opening-sermon at Oldham-street was attended by a vast concourse; and, from what he then saw and felt, he had confidence that God would be with them.

Some few details come out in a letter to one of his Liverpool friends, a little while after his re-settlement in Manchester: — “I have a very good garret for my study: poets, you know, and poor authors, generally live in such places. I have had shelves put up for my books, and have most of them unpacked and carried up to this sublime region; but it has been severe work, and has fatigued me sadly. The books and other things have been much injured in the carriage: upwards of twenty of my boxes were broken, though they came by His Grace’s flats” (the duke of Bridgewater’s canalboats). “I am now quite of poor Richard’s mind, that three such flittings would he equal to one burning “I have heard Mr. Hearnshaw, the young preacher. He bids fair, I think, to make a luminous star in the church of Christ. He has a very pleasing voice, a neat delivery, and very decent language; his matter is solid, and his doctrine sound. Mr. Jenkins you know; the other is Mr. Pipe. He” (Mr. P.) “is full of life and zeal, and I should not wonder if he be esteemed the first man among us. I like a good shaking, and long hearty Amens among the people: but, between you and me, there seems too much of it here; and many, I am afraid, do not distinguish between sense and sound, — between the tornadoes of natural passion and the meltings of religious affection. But I must leave this with God, the only wise and good.

May He keep us right!”

In Manchester, as in other places, Mr. Clarke showed the value he set on class-meeting as a means of great help and encouragement in the Christian life, by entering himself as a private member in one of the classes. In Liverpool he had raised a class of his own; but now, under the leadership of “a plain, simple-hearted, good man,” Mr. Clarke found, as often as his duties would allow him to meet, that he could derive great profit, and reflect it again in his ministry, from communion with these lowly ones in the flock of the Lord.

To the Strangers’ Friend Society, which, with Mr. Bradburn, he had been the means of establishing in the town, he turned his renewed attention, strengthening and extending its truly beneficent agencies.

Steady also to his purpose in combining moral and intellectual culture, in making men strong in whatever is good, he opened his study on stated mornings in the week for young men who were desirous of instruction in the original languages of the Bible, and founded a Society, like that already in operation at Liverpool, for the promotion of literary, scientific, and Christian studies; — “to bring forward,” as he said, “and improve latent talent, and to prompt the few, who were aiding and influencing each other, to act upon the million.” Many men who have lived not in vain received good impulses and helps in these intellectual fellowships; and among them we may name that eminent scholar, diligent author, and excellent minister of Christ, the late Dr. James Townley. The success attending this institute was always a subject of great thankfulness to the founder; and we may here mention that, when the time came for him to leave Manchester, the members offered him a token of their esteem, not only in a verbal tribute, but by the presentation of two massive silver cups, beautifully ornamented with a border of oak-leaves round the outer rim, and bearing the inscription: —

“EX DONO SOCIETATIS PHILOLOGICAE,MANCUNIENSIS REVERENDO ADAMO CLARKE,PRAESIDI DILECTISSIMO ET DILIGENTISSIMO, IN AMICITAE GRATIQUE ANIMI PLURIMIS PRO MERITIS TESTIMONIUM.”

In his own literary career Mr. Clarke gave another token of great activity, in the publication of the remaining volumes of the Bibliographical Dictionary (the preface of the sixth volume bearing date, “Manchester, July 1st, 1804”); and also a new and improved edition of Claude Fleury’s “Manners of the Ancient Israelites,” a work which found much acceptance with the public.

As in Bristol and Liverpool, so now in Manchester, the silence of the study was broken upon by the voice of the knell. Mr. and Mrs. Clarke had to sustain the affliction of seeing their beautiful little daughter Agnes fade and die like a flower. This child had become an object of intense affection to her father; and the stroke which bereaved him was so much the more afflictive. “Agnes,” says he, “was a most interesting and promising child.

Few, of her years, ever possessed a finer understanding, or a more amiable disposition. She was led to remember her Creator in the days of her youth; she truly feared God, and dreaded nothing so much as that by which He would be offended, and His good Spirit grieved. Young as she was, it was evident that she possessed a pious heart. She loved prayer, attended public worship with delight, and had such a firmness and constancy of resolution, that nothing could make her change a purpose which she and formed, when convinced that it was right God saw it best to take her and, having sowed in her heart the good seed of His kingdom, took her to heaven, where it should bring forth all its fruits in their native soil.”

Twenty years afterwards I find another reference, which shows how lasting was this love: — “I had a daughter called Agnes: never was my soul so wrapped up in a child. God took her I had suffered so much in her sufferings, that the good Dr. Agnew said, if she had lived one week longer it must have killed me. Agnes is still dear to me, though it is more than twenty years since I lost that lovely child.”

The circumstance that two of their children, Adam and Agnes, lay buried at Manchester, created a melancholy tie between the hearts of the parents and that place: but, while nature dictated that mournful sympathy, faith, with its solemn assurances, strengthened in their souls a more elevated sense of union with the heavenly world, whither their beloved ones had gone before them, and where, henceforth exempt from death, the families of the saved are reunited in the full possession of the inheritance which is incorruptible, and eternally their own.

Having completed his term of service in the Manchester Circuit, Mr.

Clarke, amid the regrets of multitudes, removed from that city to resume his labors in London, being once more appointed to the metropolis by the Conference of 1805. As the superintendent of the Circuit, he went into residence at the Methodist parsonage adjoining the chapel in City-road.

Here, with the Rev. Messrs. Bogie, Entwisle, J. Stanley, and others for his colleagues, a wide sphere of engagements opened to him. London was still but one Circuit; and since his last appointment the duties had become yet more numerous by the establishment of various other preaching places, the building of several new chapels, and the increase of pastoral duties consequent on the formation and increase of the Societies connected with them. And if, at present, each of the superintendents of the nine Circuits into which the metropolis is divided finds that the multifarious business of his charge demands an incessant care, we may easily conceive that Adam Clarke, as the sole superintendent of the Methodist work in London, would be called to a life of almost sleepless labor. Yet his strength was as his day. By redeeming the early hours of the morning, he carried on the studies which were yielding plenteous fruitage in his literary works; and by resolute diligence he made full proof of his ministry as a preacher and pastor, maintained the financial resources of the Circuit in full vigor, and developed the various capabilities of the Methodist system for the promotion of the spiritual and temporal comfort of the multitudes over whom, by the agency of Sunday-school teachers, prayer-leaders, classleaders, visitors of the sick, tract-distributors, exhorters, and local preachers, it exerts its benefic influence. Yet more, in addition to all these calls upon his time and care, we find him taking a prominent position in some of the greatest philanthropic movements of the age. Among these the British and Foreign Bible Society, then recently formed, awoke a joyful enthusiasm in his soul, which expressed itself in services to that noble institution as lasting as his life. At the instance of Mr. Butterworth, who was one of its earliest members, he was invited to take part in its great work, upon which he entered, as we may say, con amore, with the relish of the scholar for the philologic criticism involved in the undertaking to send forth the Bible in the various languages of mankind, and with the faith of the Christian in the power of Divine truth, so conveyed, to renew the world in righteousness. Of the ability and zeal with which he co-operated in this great design we shall have to give some examples in the subsequent records. Suffice it here to observe, that from his extensive Oriental learning, his acquaintance with the verbal criticism of the sacred text, and his sound judgment as a catholic [universal, all-embracing] theologian, the committee of the Bible Society found in Adam Clarke the man they wanted. — Let the reader mark here what great consequences follow the decisions of our early life. When the friendless youth at Kingswood bought the Hebrew Grammar with the piece of coin found in the garden, the world itself was to be the better for the event.

In his own library at City-road, long before the broad mass of London life had begun to stir itself in a morning, Mr. Clarke was now diligently engaged in perfecting for the press the first parts of his Commentary, and in supplementing the six volumes of the Bibliographical Dictionary by two others, comprising a variety of topics connected with those studies, to which he gave the title of “The Bibliographic Miscellany.” This work bears date, “November 1st, 1806.” Besides these, he lent powerful aid to the editor of the Eclectic Review, in some articles on the Septuagint, and the study of the eastern languages.

At this time Mr. Clarke felt very strong convictions on the necessity of some effective measures for the training of men of piety and promise for the work of the ministry in the Methodist body; which, with the continual increase of its members and influence in the country, partook as well the educational advantages by which the English intellect has been so greatly elevated in the present age. He saw that an illiterate ministry would be inadequate to the wants of the times; and that, if the pulpits of Methodism were to attract the people, they must be filled by men who were, at least, on a par with their hearers in mental cultivation. With these impressions, he took an early opportunity of bringing the subject under the consideration of the preachers then stationed in London; and the result of their conversation he details to Mr. Butterworth: — “We have now a subject of the deepest concern before us. We want some kind of seminary for educating workmen for the vineyard of the Lord. I introduced a conversation this morning upon the subject, and the preachers were unanimously of opinion that some efforts should be made without delay to get such a place established either here or at Bristol, where young men who may be deemed fit for the work may have previous instruction in theology, in vital godliness, in practical religion, and in the rudiments of general knowledge. No person to be permitted to go out into the work who is not known to be blameless in his conversation, thoroughly converted to God, alive through the indwelling Spirit, and sound in the faith. Mr. Benson said he would unite his whole soul in it, if I would take the superintendence of it. What can we do to set this matter on foot? The people are getting wiser on all sides:

Socinianism, and other isms equally bad, are gaining strength and boldness Every Circuit cries out, ‘Send us acceptable preachers;’ and we are obliged to take what offers, and depend upon the recommendation of those who can scarcely judge, but from the apparent fervor of a man’s spirit. My dear brother, the time is coming, and now is, when illiterate piety can do no more for the interest and permanency of the work of God than lettered irreligion did formerly. The Dissenters are going to establish a grammarschool, and have sent about to all our people, as to their own, for countenance and support. Would not God have our charity in this respect to begin at home? Are there not many of our people who would subscribe largely to such an institution? If we could raise enough for the first year for the instruction of only six or ten persons, would it not be a glorious thing? Perhaps about twenty would be the utmost we should ever need to have at once under tuition, as this is the greatest average number we should take out in a year. Speak speedily to all your friends, and let us get a plan organized immediately: let us have something that we can lay, matured, before the Conference. God, I hope, is in the proposal; and we should not promise our strength or influence to others, till we find either that we can do nothing for ourselves, or that nothing is requisite.”

This desirable project could not at that time be accomplished. The Conference was burdened with increasing pecuniary difficulties, and the resources of the Connection were not adequate to the task. At a later day, however, (1833,) the scheme was carried into full effect, to the great satisfaction of all enlightened and impartial men in the Methodist communion. A Theological Institution was founded, one branch of which is situated at Richmond, Surrey, and the other at Didsbury, near Manchester. Already, in those sequestered shades, hundreds of pious young men, called of God to the work of the Gospel, have been soundly trained for the Christian ministry, of which they are making worthy proof in various parts of the world. The divinity tutors have hitherto been the Rev. Professor Jackson, for Richmond, and the Rev. Dr. Hannah, for Didsbury.

CHAPTER 5

THE PRESIDENT

In these incessant engagements the year had passed away, and Mr. Clarke attended the annual assembly of the preachers at Leeds, A.D. 1806. On this memorable occasion, he was invested with the highest honor his brethren in the ministry could confer upon him, in being elected President of the Conference. It will be most pleasant to read such notices of those days as we find in his own letters to Mrs. Clarke.

One from Sheffield, on the way, acquaints us that his fellow travelers were twenty-two in number. “I was one of three on the box, with the coachman; Messrs. Bradford, Cole, and Goodwin were behind me; Mr. and Mrs.

Benson, inside From every quarter I find it is the unanimous design of the preachers to put me in the chair. Perhaps you will he surprised when I tell you that I am absolutely determined not to go into it. This purpose I believe none can shake. I have neither a state of mind nor nerves for such a work, and I would not take a handful of guineas to be obliged to preach the president’s sermon. — Dr. Coke is here.” “Leeds, July 25th. — We have got almost through our stationing work, and have much order and good-will among us When at Sheffield, I read over the Plan for the education of young preachers, before Mr. Holy and some other of the principal friends, who all highly approved of it. This day I got Mr. Moore to read it, from whom I expected considerable opposition; but I was disappointed, by receiving from him the following note on the back of the cover: ‘A very admirable letter. It answers almost all my objections, or rather my fears. If we were such ministers as we should be, the pious who are well informed, and even learned, would be glad to join themselves to us.’ He means that many pious, well-informed, and even learned men among our Societies, and who are local preachers, would be glad to become traveling preachers: but he contends that the preachers have no proper scriptural authority, [all this having been] already given up; so that the most vulgar and illiterate in a Leaders’ or Quarterly Meeting ca n, by the number of heads, or show of hands, carry any point of discipline or doctrine against the preachers. This is certainly true, and is a sore and increasing evil.” “July 27th. — This morning, according to appointment, I rode out to Armley, and preached at ten o’clock. The good people would have sent me back on horseback, but I excused myself, and walked home in company with Messrs. Bunting, Collier, and Button.

Brother Garrett we left behind, to follow the blow. I have to preach this evening again at the new chapel. This will be sore work. Mr.

Bradburn preached this morning on Old Methodism, and acquitted himself, I hear, very well. How I shall get on, God knows; but I am pledged, and cannot recede. “The people are coming in, I am informed, from twenty miles’ distance and upwards. The following will show you, in some measure, their spirit and temper. A Quaker, airing himself in the street by his own house about six in the morning, saw a plain looking countryman covered with dust, carrying a very large great coat, and sweating at every pore. He accosted him: ‘Friend, whither art thou come? Thou appearest much fatigued.’ ‘ I am cooming to the Methodist Conference,’ says Bluntspurs: ‘ I am coom forty mile, and ha’ walked all t’ night.’ The Quaker, struck with his appearance and honest bluntness, said, ‘Friend, I like thy spirit: thee seemest sincere and zealous in this way: turn in hither, and refresh thyself; thou shalt be welcome to what the place can afford.’ Poor Gruff turned in, and found a hearty welcome. How valuable is this simplicity of spirit! and how much more happiness do these people enjoy, who are taking God at His word, than those who are disputing with their Maker Himself every particle o f His revelation! Scaliger, who understood thirteen languages, seeing the comparative happiness of the simple and ignorant, cried out once, ‘O that I had never known my alphabet!’ But it is probable that from these as many sources of comfort are sealed up, as there are causes of distress to those whose minds are cultivated. I shall leave this till after preaching “I am now returned from preaching to some thousands; thousands within, and hundreds without. To relieve the excessive press, a preacher was obliged to stand up without, while I wrought an hour and fifteen minutes within. At the last prayer we had an uncommon shaking, and some acts of solemn self-dedication took place, never, never, I hope, to be forgotten.” “July 25th. — This morning our Conference began, and the whole time before breakfast was employed in filling up the Deed, &c.

After breakfast, as I had heard from all quarters that they designed to put me in the chair, I addressed the Conference, and, having told them what I had understood, proceeded to give reasons why I could not go into the chair, and begged that no brother would lose a vote for me, as my mind was fully made up on the business. This produced a conversation I little expected. All the old preachers insisted on it that I was at present the proper person, and entreated me not to refuse. I insisted upon it that I would not, and solemnly charged every one who intended to vote for me to give his suffrage to some other. I then wrote [mine] for Mr. Barber, and showed my paper to those about me, who all followed my example. I trembled till this business was concluded: and what was the result? I was chosen by a majority of one half beyond the highest! I was called to the chair in the name of the Conference, and refused, begging that the next in number of votes might take it. We were thrown into a temporary confusion, during which Mr. T. Taylor and J. Bradford lifted me up by mere force out of my seat, and set me upon the table! I was confounded and distressed beyond measure, and, against all my resolutions, was obliged to take the seat. After recovering from my embarrassment, I began business, and have conducted it hitherto with order, and, I believe, much to the satisfaction of the brethren. Dr. Coke was chosen secretary, and between him and Mr. Benson there was a close run. We are now at the characters, and have got through seventy-nine Circuits. There are two or three knotty cases in reference to charges of false doctrine, which will soon come before us I do not see any sentence in _____’s book which is capable of bearing an evil construction. It is a poor milksop production, and the time and expense are thrown away upon it. — is too high; he has learned to bear no cross for Christ’s sake: perhaps he may now be schooled a little in this necessary science Pray, pray hard, for me. I am far from being comfortable in my mind. The thought of having to preach next Lord’s day before the Conference, and to admit those who have traveled four years, quite absorbs my spirits.” “July 29th. — Having a few moments, (sitting on the Conference board, the preachers beginning to assemble,) I devote them to you.

We have gone on well. When we came to the Wakefield Circuit, Mr. Marsden produced a letter from Mr. Pawson, containing his dying advice to the Conference. This was read, and a motion succeeded that it should be printed I have just now got the number of the preachers present: they amount to two hundred and three. I have long walks, and sleep, or rather watch, in a front room in the noisiest street in Leeds, in which there is scarcely a silent hour in the night. I have not had one night’s rest.” “July 30th. — We have now got through all the characters, except _____’s for Pelagianism [from the monk Pelagius (4th-5th c.) or his theory denying the doctrine of original sin.], and _____’s for denying the direct witness of the Spirit. Mr. _____ has had the questions proposed to him which were sent to Mr. _____, and has answered all to the perfect satisfaction of the Conference. Mr. _____, who was under the same accusation, has had the same questions put to him, and has not answered to their satisfaction The brethren are so incensed against evasive answers on this subject, that every man has Argus [a mythical person with a hundred eyes] eyes. The question which I sent to Mr. _____ was my own; but today it has been adopted without variation, to be used as the test on which the Pelagian heretics should be tried.

There is the utmost need to take heed to our doctrines I write this while the rest of the brethren are at their tea. I am nearly worn out with excessive exertions.” “Aug. 3rd — This morning I went to the new chapel, where the doctor” (Coke) “was to preach. Long before the time it was more than full. — Many hundreds were standing in the street when I got up to it. However, I squeezed in; and, as it was more than half an hour before the time, and the doctor was not come, I got a Prayer Book, went into the desk, and began to read prayers. This quieted the people. As the press was great at the door and in the street, four preachers stood up in different parts, and began to preach.

Thus, instead of one, we had five congregations. When we had finished the sacrament [of the Lord’s Supper, which was administered] to perhaps eight hundred people, we could scarcely get out, for the afternoon congregation was waiting to get in. I came home, and, having got a morsel of dinner, am come to scribe you a few lines, and to look for a text for this evening. A sore work lieth before me, and how I am to get through it I know not. I will leave this unconcluded till I return I have just returned. An amazing congregation; thousands, without and within. There was reason to fear some lives would he lost, the press was so great. I got on middlingly. Nearly all the preachers were present. I am now weary enough, and my cold still had. — There is no morning that I am not in the chapel (though nearly a mile from my lodging) before five o’clock. What is the use of lying in bed? I cannot sleep; my eyes are like those of a ferret. I know not when I shall he able to sleep again It is said that there are upwards of twenty thousand strangers come into town. It is like a county town in the time of election. The inns and private houses are overflowed, and the streets everywhere full.” “Aug. 6th — This has been a day of very great fatigue. I have been a good part of the afternoon examining the young men. I had each doctrine to define and explain. Though it almost totally exhausted me, I got through with precision I have in about half an hour to go and admit them all, in the presence of an immense congregation, crowds of which were rushing into the chapel before I left the Conference board. — We are still in great harmony. I have nearly as much authority as I could wish; and, when I choose to exert it, all I can desire. The brethren behave exceedingly well. I let them feel only that power with which they have invested me, and they properly respect it “Finding the chapel already full, a half an hour before the time, I immediately began.” He then describes the ordination service, as practiced at that time among the Methodists, and adds: “I then addressed them in a short speech, and pronounced the formal words of reception, in the name of God, whose mercy and love they were to proclaim; of Jesus Christ, whose atonement they were to witness; of the Holy Ghost, by whose influence they had been thus far fitted for the ministry, and by whose unction they were to alarm, convince, convert, and in holiness build up the souls of men: also, in the name of the Methodist Conference, by whose authority I acted; and in the name of the many thousands which constitute the church connected with them. Mr. Moore then prayed, and I pronounced the dismissal.” “Aug. 7th. — [As to the station for next year] I am returned for London; and may now give up, as at the highest pitch of honor Methodism can bestow upon me: president of the Conference, superintendent of London, and chairman of the London District, all at the same time The Lord knows I never sought it. Well, I would rather have one smile from my Maker than all this honor, and all the world could confer besides. “I own I should feel home very waste if you were not there to receive me when I come; and yet I wish you by all means to go and see your mother. If I possibly can, after resting a few days at home, I shall rejoice to accompany you and Mr. Butterworth to Trowbridge.”

The duties of the president, including extensive journeys in Scotland and Ireland, incessant correspondence, and a formidable amount of Connectional business, render it necessary that an additional preacher be stationed with him, as a helper in the ordinary labors of the Circuit.

Among the young men who appeared at the Leeds Conference for ordination was the Rev. David M’Nicoll, who preached at one of the services, and whose discourse gave the president such an idea of his capacity and character, as to determine his choice of an assistant for the coming year. “I have heard Mr. M’Nicoll,” says he, in a letter to Mrs.

Clarke, “this morning at five. He is a wonderful fellow. Although a Scotchman, he has excellent language, and such a flow of words as you have seldom heard. He will infallibly bear the bell in London. Your husband can, I believe, dig much deeper; but he certainly cannot fly so high.” And again, speaking of the men received into full connection: — “David M’Nicoll, who is coming to London, was o ne of them; and in a very neat, lively, and elegant manner, he testified of the hope that was in him.” Nor was the president disappointed in this high estimate. Mr.

M’Nicoll gave early indications of a genius which, cultivated in after-years by a most extensive acquaintance with the best literature in the English language, made him one of the first preachers of the day. The blandness of his natural disposition, his vivid yet well-governed imagination, his fascinating musical talent, his wealth of information, and the artless simplicity of his manners, rendered him one of the most amiable companions; while the moral virtues of his heart and life, and the power which attended his pulpit-ministrations, commanded homage as well as affection. After the exertions of the Conference, Mr. Clarke availed himself of a few days’ relaxation, making one of a family-party in a tour into Wiltshire. In a series of well-written letters to his son Theodoret, he describes the most remarkable scenes and objects which attracted their attention. Mr.

Butterworth, who was chief mover in the affair, had provided two carriages; and they set out for Devizes, from thence over Salisbury Plain, where the sight of shepherds with their flocks and dogs gave him huge delight. They visited Stonehenge; and then Wilton House, the seat of the earl of Pembroke, with its rare collections of coins and antique sculptures, and, without, its romantic vistas, temples, groves, and gardens; a spot which altogether won, as he says, his warm attachment. “We returned,” he writes, “to our inn, and partook of a most comfortable dinner. We were all as hungry as Greenland bears. I have seldom needed a meal so much, and have not been often more thankful to God for one.” On the road to Wilton, they passed by the church where, as he says, “that blessed man of God, Mr. Herbert, (the poet,) formerly preached. It is entirely surrounded with very fine tall yew-trees, and the mere sight of the place impressed my mind with solemnity and reverence.”

The next place was Wardour Castle, the seat of the earl of Arundel. The paintings here riveted his attention; one of them especially, “The Saviour after Death,” by Spagnoletto. “He” (the Saviour) “is represented as just taken down from the cross; the countenance indescribably expressive of death, and yet highly dignified; fully verifying the words, ‘No man taketh My life from Me:’ ‘ I give up My life for the sheep:’ for, though He groaned and gave up the ghost, after He had cried with a loud voice, yet it could not be said of Him, — Vitaque cum gemitu fugit indignata sub umbras.

No; you could see that He was ‘free among the dead:’ free — at liberty to resume His life whenever He pleased, as He had given it up according to His own good pleasure “The family-chapel is one of the most solemn little buildings I ever saw. It is laid out in the Romish taste; two lamps perpetually burning before the altar, on which is placed a costly crucifix.

Through a window of stained glass a sufficient measure of light makes every object visible enough, in conjunction with the lamps; indeed, the mixture of these two lights produces a sort of illumination which partakes at once of the cheerfulness of day and the solemnity of night He who can enter a place dedicated to the worship of God as he does into his own habitation or that of his horses, has (in my opinion) no proper notion of religious worship, and is never likely to derive much edification from his attendance on the ordinances of God Another thing impressed us, — the number of religious books which we saw in every apartment; such as the History of the People of God, the Imitation of Christ, &c.; and all these books seemed as if they were in frequent use.”

In the progress of their tour they came to the village of Amesbury. “It is situated among the hills in a chalky soil, and is neat, dry, and clean: there is one inn, the George, which, much to our satisfaction, afforded us a tolerable supper and beds. Almost our first inquiry was, ‘Are there any religious people here?’ “ The waiter, who was “an intelligent man,” directed them to some whom he considered such, and to one, as the leader of the rest, a baker, named Edwards. “Determined to find this ecclesiastical baker, we sallied out. It was a fine moonlight evening. I rapped at his door, and asked to see Mr. Edwards. He came, and invited us in. We entered, and told him we were strangers in the country, and that, on inquiring whether there were any religious people in the village, we had been directed to him.

As soon as we sat down, I asked him to what class of religious people he belonged. He replied, ‘ To Mr. Wesley’s people.’ “ After some conversation, “we were so pleased with the worthy couple, that we invited them to sup with us at our inn, where we spent a comfortable hour together.” The Sabbath was spent by the tourists in Bradford, where Mr.

Clarke preached in the morning to a large and deeply attentive congregation. Some of the old people had heard him years before, when he came to their Circuit in his novitiate.

Refreshed and strengthened in mind and body by this pleasant excursion, Mr. Clarke resumed his duties in London with renewed vigor. “In labors” he was “more abundant,” and his influence became greater every day. We read that “to him that hath shall be given;” and the subject of our memoir, in being faithful to the talents confided to him, became more and more enriched with those heavenly gifts which rendered him in the pulpit an apostle indeed; in the study an instructor not of the ignorant only, but of the learned too; and in life “an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.” Not only in his own communion was he regarded with affectionate reverence and homage, but in the church at large; and among the highest literary circles his character had begun to be known and admired. Some of the most distinguished men of the day, as Roscoe, Porson, Lord Teignmouth, Charles Butler, and Morrison of China, found pleasure and profit in his conversation and correspondence. A sermon on some public occasion would gather round his pulpit one of the most choice congregations in London; and a new work from his pen was welcomed with thankful respect by the good and by the great. Of this universal sentiment of esteem the senate of the university of Aberdeen only gave a suitable expression when they conferred upon him, in January, 1807, the diploma of Master of Arts; and, thirteen months afterwards, created him Doctor of Civil and Canon Law. These honors had been already merited; but the university knew that the man who was now invested with them gave pledges of yet greater things which would more abundantly vindicate their judgment of him, and contribute to the honor of the learned body who had enrolled him among their associates.

One of the verifications of these prognostics made its appearance in the following September, in the “Concise View of Sacred Literature,” — a work in which the learned author gives an analytical account of the great masterpieces of religious teaching, from the earliest times down to the middle of the fourth century; with the intention of resuming and completing the course in a subsequent volume: a purpose which, in process of time, was carried out with ability by his son, the Rev. J. B. B.

Clarke. A treatise on the Christian Eucharist, and an edition of Harmer’s Observations on the Scriptures, were also at this time in progress; but Dr. Clarke’s main efforts turned on the great labor of his literary life, his own Commentary on the Bible.

At the Liverpool Conference in 1807, Dr. Clarke was thankful to surrender the presidential seal into the hands of the Rev. John Barber, his successor in office, and to receive from his brethren the cordial expression of their approval of the spirit and manner in which he had fulfilled his duties.

Anxious to promote the temporal as well as the spiritual interests of his fathers and brethren in the ministry, he introduced to the attention of the Conference at this session a measure which he had closely meditated, and the adoption of which would, as he conceived, be the means of affording substantial consolation to many of the preachers who in future years should he found in age and decay without the means of temporal support.

The plan, indeed, was not adopted; but it has a record here, to illustrate the large and liberal thoughts of him who devised it. We will give the paper as it proceeded from his own pen: — “Bismillahi Arahmani Arraheemi! “Taking into consideration the very desolate state of the superannuated preachers and widows in the Methodist Connection, and well knowing that the provision made by the Preachers’ Aunuitant Society must in every case fall very far short of even providing them with the necessaries of life, it is proposed, — “1. That an asylum or college be erected with as much speed as possible for the reception of superannuated preachers, and the widows of those who have died in our Lord’s work. “2. That the asylum be erected in the vicinity of some large town, in a healthy situation, where the necessaries of life may be found cheap. “3. That the asylum consist of houses, each containing a sitting-room, two lodging-rooms, a study, a small kitchen, and a garden, _____ feet long, and the breadth of the house. “4. That the building enclose a large square of _____ feet; and that a commodious chapel, for the use of the institution and the vicinity, be built in the center or one end of the square. “5. That the place itself be taken in by the traveling preachers, as one of the regular places of the Circuit where it is situated; and that all the residents in the asylum shall meet regularly in class, and be subject to all the rules, regulations, &c., common to the Methodist Societies. “6. That no person shall be entitled to a place in this college who has not been a regular traveling preacher for the space of twenty years, and who has not been declared superannuated by the Conference merely on account of such bodily infirmities as render it impossible for him to continue in his work. “7. That no widow be admitted who has not been the wife of a traveling preacher for at least twenty years, or has not traveled with her husband during that time, or has not maintained an unblemished character. “8. That if any of the widows remarried with one of the superannuated preachers, she shall go to the apartments of her husband but should she marry with a person who is not a resident in the asylum, she shall leave it. “9. That each family have the house free of rent and taxes, and a certain sum be allowed annually for coals and candles. “10. That the superannuated preachers and widows resident in the asylum have the whole of the annuity which they can legally claim from the preachers’ fund, independent of all the privileges and advantages arising from their residence. “11. That no preacher or widow be obliged to enter this institution, or be entitled to its privileges, not being resident in it, unless there be no room for any proper claimant, and the funds be an such a state as to enable the managers to grant a certain portion of help to such persons. “12. That the principal friends throughout the Connection be solicited for subscriptions to purchase freehold premises, on which to erect the necessary buildings.”

This program was supplemented with the following postscript: — “The preceding plan was laid before the Conference by Brother Clarke; and he was required by the Conference to write an Address to the members and friends of the Societies, accompanied with the plan, soliciting subscriptions for the above laudable purpose; and the Conference order that the Address and plan be printed in the Minutes and Magazine. “J. BARBER, President. “T. COKE, Secretary.” At this Conference Dr. Clarke was appointed, in conjunction with Dr. Coke and Mr. Benson, to draw up a compend of Methodist doctrines, confirmed by Scripture, and illustrated from the writings of Mr. Wesley.

This was accordingly compiled, and a copy sent to the chairman of every District for the consideration of the preachers.

As the time drew on when, according to the usages of Methodism, Dr. Clarke would have to leave the metropolis, the Committee of the British and Foreign Bible Society expressed their sense of the value of his services to that great institution by an official request to the Conference, that the general custom might in his case be pretermitted [left off for a time]. To this unusual application, so honorable to each of the parties, the Conference, from an earnest desire to promote the interests of the Bible Society, gave their full consent. In the course of the year Dr. Clarke removed from City-road, and took up his residence at the Surrey Institution, to the librarianship of which he had allowed himself to be nominated under the circumstances disclosed in the following extract from a correspondence on the subject with Mr. Butterworth: — “Whether I propose myself for librarian to the Surrey Institution, or permit another to do so, is nearly the same thing. It is a fixed principle with me never to be a candidate for a public office, either in church or state; and from this I have never swerved. My heart is in every literary institution: I believe they are all ordered in the Divine Providence. Perhaps, I am as well qualified, in many respects, for the office, as I am for any of those I now fill. I must continue in London another year.” In short, he left the matter with the authorities of the Institution, and they elected him.

Invested with the office, he confronted its duties with his usual decision. “Mark,” says he, “I have all the books in both libraries to provide: I have to travel from shop to shop, to examine hooks, to compare prices before I purchase I have lectures, and the plan of lectures, and even their matter, to arrange: — I have to construct the whole machine, and to give it proper momentum and direction; to be incessant in labor, and to employ all my bibliographical and philosophical knowledge in those things; and, as I have taken them in hand, I shall do them, if God spare my life.”

Among the smaller pieces which Dr. Clarke published at this time, was a memoir of the last hours of that distinguished scholar, Professor Porson; a notice which details some literary conversations which the writer had with the illustrious Grecian, on some points relating to the archaeology of his favorite language. Another biographical sketch was written for the Wesleyan Magazine. It refers to a man as eminent for the sanctity of his life as the subject of the former memoir was remarkable for his attainments in Greek scholarship, — the Rev. John Pawson. This little piece will be always read with refreshment and edification by those who know anything of the power of religion in the soul. It presents a graphic portraiture of “a man of irreproachable integrity, of unspotted life, and of very extensive usefulness. As he honored God with his body, soul, and substance, so God honored him by giving him the highest affection and confidence of His church and people; with an unction and baptism of the Holy Ghost; a nd with such a victory and triumph over sin, death, and the grave, as would have been glorious even in the apostolic times.”

The labors of Dr. Clarke in the field of English history, in accomplishing the redaction [revision, editing, rearrangement] of a great portion of Rymer’s Faedera, will claim a more particular review in another chapter. I only refer to the subject here to notice a transaction in which he was engaged about this time, in the purchase of the diplomatic and private papers of Sir Andrew Mitchell, English ambassador to the court of Berlin during the seven years war. It was judged that documents which immediately related to a period so eventful should not be allowed to perish; and Dr. Clarke was requested to negotiate for their purchase, on behalf of the trustees of the Cottonian Library at the British Museum. He obtained the papers for 400; and, on his delivering them personally at the Museum, they were sealed up for thirty years, (according to the usual agreement in such cases,) to obviate injurious results to private or public parties who might be involved in the secrets of the transactions recorded in them. I may add here, from the family memorandum, that at the termination of this business Sir William Forbes, at whose instance it had been undertaken, inquired of a friend of the doctor, what compensation he should make to him for his trouble; but he was assured by that friend (Robert Eden Scott, Esq.) that Dr. Clarke would be found above receiving remuneration for acts of that kind. Sir William therefore contented himself with presenting to the doctor a copy of the Nova Reperta Inscriptionum Antiquarum, with a record on the fly-leaf expressive of the donor’s regard.

The same characteristic of disinterestedness shows itself in the manner in which he fulfilled the duties of librarian at the Surrey Institution. Finding that they were really incompatible with the momentous undertakings, ministerial and literary, in which his whole existence should be absorbed, he, at the end of ten months’ service, relinquished the situation, and refused to receive the salary. The council of the Institution attested their admiration of his important and generous services, by installing him as permanent honorary librarian to the Society. Dr. Clarke now removed his residence to Harpur-street, Bloomsbury.

In the department of biblical literature, in addition to some extensive engagements on behalf of the Bible Society, he took a zealous part in the measures adopted by the late Rev. Josiah Pratt, B.D., for a new edition of the London Polyglot. At the request of Lord Teignmouth, Dr. Burgess, bishop of St. David’s, and some other friends of this undertaking, he furnished a specimen sheet in royal folio, and another in octavo. This, under the title of “A Plan and Specimen of Biblia Polyglotta Britannica; or, an enlarged and improved Edition of the London Polyglot Bible, with Castel’s Heptaglot Lexicon,” was printed and circulated among the literati at home and abroad. But this noble and much-needed enterprise came to nothing for want of adequate patronage. A copy of the prospectus may be found in the British Museum.

But the time had now come, in which Dr. Clarke’s long preparatory labors enabled him to present to the world the first part of his own edition of the English Bible, with the Commentary which has given him a lasting name among the great biblical teachers of the church. In the early part of the year, he put forth a prospectus of the work, which excited general attention, and not the less on account of a controversial paper from the Rev. Thomas Scott, (himself one of the most valuable of the English annotators on the Bible,) who, in “The Christian Observer,” impugned the statement that Dr. Clarke had made in the prospectus, that the Septuagint was the version to which our Lord and His apostles had constant recourse, and from which they made all their quotations. The animadversions of this respected clergyman were answered by Dr. Clarke, through the medium of the same journal, in a paper which has been reprinted in his Miscellaneous Works. In the month of July following, the first portion of the Commentary made its appearance, and was soon in the hands not only of the reading people in the doctor’s own religious communion, (among whom, it received an enthusiastic welcome,) but of a multitude of the eminent and pious in every branch of the Christian church.

All this while the Methodist preacher was not merged and lost in the man of letters, and the companion of peers and prelates. In this respect Dr. Clarke was evermore the same man: he dwelt among his own people, and with heart and hand labored with his brethren for the promotion of the cause of Christ in the conversion of sinners, and the edification of the church redeemed by His precious blood; in the advancement of which both he and they found their peace, and glory, and joy. We have, indeed, but few documents relating to his Circuit-work at this period; but here and there in a letter we catch a glimpse of his manner of life. “I was up this morning about four, and fagged [toiled] till about a quarter past five, and then had to walk to City-road to attend the meeting at six.” So far were the interests of Methodism from being slighted by Dr. Clarke, they were advanced by the steps of his own progress. His pulpit-ministry was now in its effulgent meridian, and the growing influence of his name attracted many to the chapels in the metropolis who might otherwise have been strangers to them all their days.

So, wherever he went, in his occasional journeys, crowds assembled roused the pulpit where he was to preach even a passing sermon. Thus at St.

Austel, in a tour which he took into the west in the autumn: — “Short as the notice was, we had the chapel quite full, and several of the principal gentry made part of the congregation. I preached on Ephesians 3:13, &c.; and though very weak, and quite fagged out, spoke an hour and twenty minutes. I met here many of my old friends, but the greater number are dead. “We got to Camelford late in the evening, and were followed by some of the principal of our St. Austel friends, among whom are Mrs. Flamank and Mr. S. Drew. Many more were to set off today, to be present at the preaching tomorrow; but the incessant rain must render it impracticable. The floods wash the sides of the room where I am now writing, and are so high in the streets, that the [communication between] the upper and lower parts of the town is cut off. I am to preach here twice tomorrow, and on Monday morning to leave for Launceston, Exeter, &c. Should I stay here any longer, I should have invitations from every part of Cornwall. If eating and drinking could make us happy, it would be enjoyed here in perfection: the finest salmon in the world for sixpence per pound; whitings, several pounds’ weight, for twopence each; large rabbits a shilling a couple; and so of other things. Here a man may maintain a large family with a small income. Will you come, and let your poor husband get out of that world to live in which he was never calculated? I corrected a revise this morning, and sent off by post. There are a few memoranda in it directed to Theo. I do not get much sleep at night, and this does not agree with me. I am seldom contented when from home, which prevents me from getting much benefit when abroad. The man lives ill at home who rejoices to go abroad, and returns to his family with reluctance. So it never was with me. I have been obliged to get the shoes, soled by Mr. _____ before I came away, re-soled. The soles put on by him were not worth twopence.”

We are not fastidious enough to reject these little details. The critic well says, that “biography is useless which is not true to life. Even the weaknesses of character must be preserved, however insignificant or humbling. The jest-book of Tacitus, the medicated drinks of Bacon, the preparatory violin of Bourdaloue, and the fancy-lighting damsons of Dryden, have their place and value. They are the errata of genius, and clear up the text. A French mathematician had doubts about the animal wants of Newton, and ,was disposed to regard him as an intellectual being in whom the mind’s flame had absorbed each grosser particle. It is certainly a precipitous fall from dividing a ray of light, or writing Comus, to weariness and dinner. But biography admonishes pride, when it displays Salmasius shivering under the eyes of his wife, or bids us stand at the door of Milton’s academy and hear the work of the ferule upstairs. It steals on the poet and the premier in their undress, — Cowley, in dressing-gown and slippers ; Cecil, with his treasurer’s robe on the chair;”- and, as we may add, on Adam Clarke, looking ruefully on the unstable foundation of his shoes. “Camelford. — I have finished my Sunday’s work. Preached this morning, and gave the sacrament. Mr. Drew preached in the afternoon, and I again at night. I assure you those were high times.

The day was very fine, and the people flocked together from all quarters. At the evening’s service, Mr. Butterworth and Mr.

Johnson were so affected, that they were almost on the eve of making a glorious noise; and the latter was just going to break out in prayer, when prevented by the blessing being pronounced. This visit has done many great good. It is strange, but the chief members, in almost all the Societies round about, were convinced and brought to God under my ministry Our whole journey has been one of mercy. God has especially owned the word; many have been blessed. We had a crowd about us when we set off, and yesterday was a high day indeed.”

CHAPTER 6

ITINERANCY

A few months later we find Dr. Clarke performing an extensive tour in Ireland, whither he had gone on some researches relative to the State Record Commission with which he had now been entrusted by the Government, and to meet the Irish preachers at their annual Conference.

His letters homeward detail some particulars of this expedition, which give us his revived impressions of years now receding into the immeasurable past. “Holyhead, May 30th. — I wrote to you from Shrewsbury, my very dear Mary, on Tuesday. Having slept there, we set off between five and six in the morning; and after traveling through the wildest, most uncultivated and uncultivatable country I ever saw, — vast mountains, sudden and tremendous precipices, huge overhanging rocks, rivers tumbling over the mountains; a country which exhibits all the disruptions which nature could have suffered by every sort of violence we got safe, eighty-five miles on the whole, a little before ten, to Bangor Ferry. A good supper, and went to bed; slept till just before five; crossed the ferry, breakfasted at the house where you and I and John had the bottle of fine cider twenty-two years ago, and then reached Holyhead The very sight of some of the precipices would have drunk up your soul.” “Dublin, 31st. — Having got a little breakfast, I set out to deliver my credentials to Mr. Mason, the secretary. Did not find him at home. Met him on returning, and appointed to meet him within two hours. Went to visit the preachers, and none of them at home.

N.B. The old breakfasting-out system still lasts. — I entered the house where we had suffered so many calamities, not without strong emotions. The school is now held in the parlor on the right, as you go in. I then called on Mr. _____, and found him embalming his already demi-mummized body with nicotian [tobacco] fumes.

Called to see John Jones and his wife. Mad with joy to see me.

Then to Mr. and Mrs. P. Then to H.-street, to see my cousin Boyd. They have a fine tall daughter, whom they call Eve. The father’s name you know is Adam. He knows the genealogy of our family most nobly, and tells me he can trace it up through seventeen Irish kings. Now, go to: could you have thought you were allied to one who can trace the pure current of his blood through seventeen monarchs? I hope you will now begin to think much of yourself. — leaving them, proceeded to the secretary’s, and examined with him different MS. indexes. He showed me uncommon kindness, and furnished me with letters to Trinity College. I posted thither, and met Dr. Barrett coming down his own stairs and going into the hall on an examination. He has appointed to meet me tomorrow at eleven. Returned to my lodging completely wearied, having walked over Dublin from one end to the other Tell John to see that nothing exceptionable in the natural history of the Defense of the Nachash be permitted to pass.” When journeying in the provinces, Dr. Clarke was careful to avail himself of opportunities for preaching the Gospel. Thus, at Charlemont: “Sunday morning. — The people thronging together from all quarters, it was found impracticable to preach in the chapel. We sent therefore to the commander of the fort to permit us the use of one of the yards, He readily acceded, and came himself and several of his men. It was a very stormy morning, and I was obliged to stand exposed to the wind and rain. We had a very good time, and as soon as finished I drove off for Dungannon. Here the crowd was great, and we had scarcely hope to stow them into the chapel, which is by far the largest I have seen since we left Dublin. As I now felt a touch of sore throat, I dared not venture in the open air a second time. We got to the chapel. Greatly crowded. Numbers without. Great grace rested upon all. Many of our old friends followed from Armagh and Charlemont, and others came from twenty miles around.”

From Magherafelt he writes: “We proceeded from Dungannon to Cookstown, where I had been published to preach in the Dissenting meeting-house When I got to the place, could hardly articulate, owing to the severe cold caught on Sunday morning. There was no remedy. Into the pulpit. It was supposed that three thousand were present, from far and near and wide. I went in, found I could not preach, and gave it over as a lost case. I, however, thought of saying a few words by way of exhortation. The people were as still as death. I spoke for forty-five minutes, and with much freedom. All the principal people were there, and several of the clergy. Yesterday we came to this place. It is astonishing to think of the concourse of people. We have no chapel here. Got the Presbyterian meeting-house, and preached with glorious power — I believe, to every relative I have in the kingdom: they had heard of my coming, and to the sixth or eighth generation were gathered together. I am now just setting off for Maghera.

In another letter: “From Castle-Dawson I proceeded toward Maghera, and stopped to view the place where I had spent the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth years of my checkered life. Half the house in which we lived, one of the best in that country, is pulled down I walked through the grounds where I had laughed and cried, sought birds’ nests, looked for fairies’ haunts, made good resolutions, and spent the most happy (and, perhaps, the most innocent) period of my life. Though I had left that place when about eight years of age, yet I remembered every hill and every hedge, where my brother and I used to see the fairies’ nocturnal fires. The orchard, from which I had eaten often of the choicest fruit, no longer exists.

Zion is ploughed like a field. The emotions to which these scenes now gave birth cannot be described They connect the long interval between four years of age and fifty To the poor woman I gave three tenpenny pieces, who received them as from heaven, and, addressing the child, said, ‘See, my dear, God has sent you a new coat by this gentleman; and may the blessing of God rest upon him and his family for ever! ‘ We soon got to Maghera, — looking over which before dinner, went to the quondam [former] dwelling of Dr. Bernard, the bishop of Limerick, celebrated in Boswell. This is also in a state of ruin; nothing like its former self, except the great beach-tree. Left the place with reflections not the most pleasant “The next morning I set out to visit the Grove, and to look for my old dwelling, and the school-house in the wood but could get no farther than the Grove.”

From Coleraine: “Our preaching-house being too small in Derry, I was furnished with the Court-House, a large and elegant building, and in it preached on the Lord’s day to crowded congregations.

Yesterday, I went out to Ballyaherton, where we formerly resided; and when I came to the old habitation, I surveyed it with reverence.

A poor woman was standing at the door. I said, ‘ Will you permit me to walk into your house?’ She said, ‘O, sir, it is not a proper place for such a gentleman as you to enter.’ I answered, ‘I have had the privilege of living in it for several years.’ I gave the children each a tenpenny piece.” Perambulating the neighborhood, “I came to a place called Port-Stuart, where I had often held religious meetings. None knew me. But, after I had discovered myself to one, the news ran, and the people came in every direction about me “Returned to Coleraine, where I had to preach Was not a little surprised to see Captain O’Neil’s and Mr. Crombie’s chariot sociable, and all their family, who came to hear preaching, — the first of the Methodist kind they had ever heard Preached, thank God, a glorious sermon, two hours. Everybody to hear; almost all, if not all, the gentry of the town, and some others from five or six miles distant. This day we went to the Giants’ Causeway It fell short of my expectation. — The pain of which I complained at home has continued with little intermission.”

From Antrim, on the longest day: “Yesterday left Coleraine for Ballymena, a journey of twenty-two miles. Thirty-two years ago I walked this same road to a lovefeast. Only one woman remains of those who were in Society at that time On my arrival today, as our own chapel was utterly insufficient, the Rev. Mr. Babbington, the rector, kindly offered me the use of his church, which, on the tolling of the bell, was soon filled with a great concourse, to whom I found considerable liberty in showing what were the doctrines of the apostles, from Acts 2:42. Today we left for Antrim, and here we should have had another church; but the rector happened to be away, and our people had not applied in time. Preached in the Presbyterian chapel.”

On the way to Antrim Dr. Clarke visited the Moravian settlement of Grace-Hill. They pressed him to give them an address in the chapel. “We entered,” he says, “ and I was surprised to find a large congregation. I desired the minister to give out one of his own hymns. He did so, and they all accompanied the organ in good full chorus. The hymn gave me excellent scope to speak on for half an hour.” They sang a parting hymn, and he commended them to God in prayer. The settlement contained at that time four hundred members. He preached again the same evening in Antrim, “a good deal to my hurt, as, my mental energy being greatly exhausted, I was obliged to exert the greater physical force; and this to me is ever unpleasant and hurtful.”

Sunday, June 23rd. — He preached twice in Belfast. Immense crowds. His voice failed in the evening; and again. at Lishurn next day. On the Wednesday at Lurgan, out of doors, “as nothing but a field would contain the thousands that gathered together. The day following it was agreed that I should rest: I go therefore to dine with Mr. Hamilton, and tomorrow preach at Portadown.”

From the latter place he writes: “Well, I am now returned from preaching to the largest congregation I ever addressed. I had almost all the town and all the country; peasantry, gentry, magistrates, preachers, and clergy. The grass does not cover the field more thickly than the people I found both strength and mind for the work, and trust God will not permit the word to have been spoken in vain.

In the same way the Doctor preached at Drogheda, making five times in the open air within the last eight days of the tour. On the 2nd of July he arrived in Dublin. “Mr. Butterworth and Joseph are well: they are both greatly improved by their journey; and I am conscious that I am much the worse every way. My clothes are worn out, and are not fit to appear in, even in the meanest congregation. I have had nothing but fatigue and suffering all the time. My love to everybody.”

The Conference which now opened, and at which Dr. Clarke had come to preside, consisted of about a hundred preachers from all parts of Ireland. “I assure you they are all equal, man for man, with the English preachers.

They are all walking with a clear sense of their acceptance with God; which is of infinite moment, not only to their own salvation, but to the prosperity of the work of God.

Yesterday I went to dine with the Rev. Dr. _____. Several of the clergy were present, and a number of genteel persons of both sexes. The house was elegant, and the entertainment splendid. But what we were brought together for, unless merely to eat, I am to this hour at a loss to divine. No topic of conversation was started, and no person seemed to notice another.

Whether this is to be attributed to self-sufficient confidence, or to a fear of each other, I do not pretend to say: but the repast ended, as it began, in comparative silence; and then I took French leave, heartily sorry I had lost so much time, or had, probably, been the means of preventing the company from enjoying theirs This day I dined at Major Sirr’s, at the Castle; where, had I not been confined for time, I should have spent a pleasant and profitable evening.”

The Conference ended on the 17th, leaving Dr. Clarke greatly exhausted.

Towards the close of his stay in Dublin, he accompanied Mr. Butterworth on a visit to the college of Maynooth, where they were “very politely received by Father De la Hogue, one of the professors. It costs our government 9,000 per annum. Mr. Knox is the treasurer. Students, three hundred. I saw nothing very remarkable. Their library is a poor one, and their chapel not elegant. The only thing I saw worth observation was the following, written in large letters above the fire-place in the kitchen: ‘Be clean, Have taste, Don’t want, Don’t waste.’ When coming away, I offered my hand to Father De la Hogue; but he declined receiving it. He had received us with the utmost politeness. I was a heretic, and therefore he would not give me the right hand of fellowship. His politeness and courtesy were, therefore, put on. What an execrable system, which cramps and freezes all the charities of human life! “I must now begin to do something for the Records the remaining part of this week.” — This latter employment now occupied him closely. “I am still driving from office to office, till nearly off my feet If it would do me any good, I have honor here in great abundance. People whom I have never known, both among the clergy and nobility, call on me and leave their cards. Invitations to the city, to the suburbs, to the country, are without end. Last Sunday evening, when I preached at the new chapel, the street was filled with chariots, coaches, berlins, and jaunting. cars; and I had lords, ladies, knights, doctors, clergy, laity, in full score. I wish you had been with me. I have been obliged to go to the barracks and dine with the officers, who behaved with the utmost politeness and respect.” On Dr. Clarke’s return to England, he had to encounter the grief occasioned by the decease of his mother. Her health had been for some time rapidly declining. He had seen her at Bristol on his way to Ireland, and had found her in the full possession of her faculties, calmly waiting for her translation to the eternal mansions. On the subject of the coming change she spoke with a devout serenity; and, on parting with her son, she commended him with earnest prayer to the blessing of God. Yet, in the course of his ministerial tour, the Doctor seems to have expected still once again to visit this beloved parent. Her decease, however, transpired so closely on the eve of his return, that no news of it had reached him on the way. “But,” says her granddaughter, “from the constrained manner and tearful eyes which but too eloquently replied to the almost first interrogation upon entering his house, ‘Is all well?’ the truth could not be concealed: upon which his countenance instantly grew pale, his lips quivered, he spoke not, but in the silence of the heart’s agony, with upraised eyes and heaving chest, he retired to his study.” “The heart knoweth its own bitterness.” We envy not the man who is not bowed down at the death of the mother who bare him, the guide of his youth, the moralist of his heart, and the encourager of every good feeling and worthy action: and such had been Mrs. Clarke to him who now mourned her departure. Her image was ever dear to his memory, and her earliest lessons had shaped the character and conduct of his life. Yet must his sorrow have been not without thankfulness for the grace shown both to himself and her, in sanctifying and saving them together; not without the full assurance of hope that they should alike have their perfect consummation and bliss in the everlasting kingdom of Him who had redeemed them.

The Rev. Thomas Roberts, the friend and neighbor of the departed matron, wrote to Dr. Clarke, on the occasion, a letter of condolence, in which he appropriately says: “You are justified in entertaining the best feelings when you reflect that good Mrs. Clarke was your mother. She lived just so long, and died so well, as to leave in the heart of her son nothing but acquiescence in the Divine will, and gratitude for that gracious dispensation of heaven which could not have been manifested in a manner more consolatory to the feelings of the man, the son, and the Christian.”

Dr. Clarke was speedily summoned from the indulgence of lonesome grief, to resume those life-absorbing efforts which Providence had ordained as the task of his existence, and in the fulfillment of which his own preparation for the rest that remaineth unto the people of God could be best carried on. In the stated work of the pulpit, in advancing the Commentary, and in discharging the duties resulting from his engagement with the Record Commission, the weeks and months passed rapidly away.

These avocations called him to Cambridge, to Oxford, and again to Ireland.

Connected with his sojourn at Cambridge in December, he makes a memorandum on the formation of a Bible Society in that town: — “Lord Hardwicke,” says he, “was in the chair, supported by Lord Francis Osborne, the dean of Carlisle, and several of the professors. The meeting lasted from eleven till four o’clock; and such speeches I never heard. Mr.

Owen exceeded his former self; Mr. Dealtry spoke like an angel; and Dr. E.

D. Clarke, the traveler, like a seraph. Everything was carried, and the meeting ended in a blaze of celestial light. Every man seemed to swear that he would carry the Bible to all who never knew it, so far as the providence of God should permit him to go. For myself, I did not laugh and cry alternately; I did both together, and completely wet my pockethandkerchief with tears. Between two and three hundred young men of the University were the first movers in this business.” In the following April he visited Cambridge again, and was hospitably entertained at Corpus Christi College. During this sojourn he had several hopeful conversations with some of the junior gownsmen, who greatly pleased him “by their disposition and manners.” One of these, the Rev. Thomas Galland, M.A., became a distinguished ornament to the Methodist ministry.

CHAPTER 7

ITINERANCY

In June Dr. Clarke resumed his travels in Ireland. “Left London,” writes he, “at six A.M., in the Liverpool coach, having under my care a young lady, Miss O’Connor, a perfect stranger to me, but whom I was requested to protect to Dublin. I soon found that she was a Roman Catholic, but of an amiable disposition, and, in her own way, conscientiously religious. At the place of our last changing between Frescot and Warrington, Mr.

Nuttall, Mr. Fisher, and their man and carriage, were waiting; and took me and my little ward to their place, called Nut Grove, where they were distractingly glad to see me. On our journey I observed that my ward had a French work, called Journal du Chretien, (the Christian’s Diary,) in which there is a prayer, and what is called ‘an act of devotion,’ for the morning and evening of each day. Poor little thing, though she had no place of retirement to do these devotions, yet such is her fear of God, that she could not neglect them; and therefore, at the proper time, both morning and evening, she took out her book, and read her little devotions. I rejoiced to show her that a heretic, so called, loves the same God.” “June 11th. — I preached in Liverpool to an immense crowd. I understand a Roman Catholic lady, who had long been seeking rest for her soul, came to the preaching. She was deeply convinced that the foundation of her hope must be alone in the death and merits of Christ. Her heart appeared as if broken under the word, and God showed her the way of salvation by faith through the blood of the cross.” The Doctor preached again on the 14th at Brunswick chapel, “on the providence and mercy of God; who wrought for His own Name, and I have reason to believe much good was done.

We had a bad night at sea: one mast was split, and the wind was against us. Through mercy, we reached Dublin in safety.” “A gentleman at the Custom-House, seeing ‘Dr. Clarke’ on different boxes, (for it was on all Miss O’Connor’s,) came out into the mob that surrounded us, and inquired for Dr. Clarke. I answered. He took me into the Custom-House, instantly passed all the boxes, would take no money, saw us both into a jingle, and told the fellow to beware he took no more than his fare, which was six schillings and sixpence; and so we got safely to Mr. Keene’s.”

Dr. Clarke’s health was again distressingly impaired. He suffered so much, that existence seemed at times a martyrdom. Through the grace given to him, his will bore up with an indomitable energy, and carried him through the labors of the pulpit, or preaching in the open air, the presidency of the Conference, and the researches of the State Record business, while many a man in like affliction would have been at home in his bed. “We this day commence our operations on the Lodge Manuscripts, and I shall open my way with the chancellor of Christ-church, perhaps call on Dr. Barrett and others. Major Sim’s family fully expected me to lodge there; but our people and the preachers have taken fire at the proposal. I found here an affectionate letter from Mr. Averell, who is wanting to convey me to Cork, &c. But such a journey is now utterly out of my power. Another letter was in waiting from Mr. Mayne, of Drogheda; an extract from which will not displease you: ‘Dear Doctor, — Our people anxiously desire to see you; and the public at large, to hear you once more. Pray do visit us. The last time you were here, God gave a Roman Catholic to your ministry. He is thoroughly steady, and his wife has since died in the Lord Jesus. Come, therefore: who knows but God may give you another?’ I know what both you and Mr. Butterworth will say; and, please God, I shall obey you. There I shall go, God willing, — I think, Wednesday, — preach to them on Thursday, and return on Friday, if this horrible seizure” (of affliction) “will give me so much respite. But it so thoroughly embitters every comfort, that I cannot rejoice in anything without trembling. For eight days I have swallowed nothing, cold or hot, solid or fluid, without great, often extreme, pain. I am in constant pain, and often in agony indescribable.” “June 22nd. — When in Liverpool, I preached two sermons; and it appears that God has owned them in a signal manner. They have produced a universal stir. A Roman Catholic lady was thoroughly converted under the first: she has since joined Miss Titherington’s class, and given a wonderful testimony. The trustees waited on me formally to thank me for my visit, and to request that I would come to them next year. — Yesterday preached at Wesley chapel, and at Whitefriars’-street. High fever, and utmost exhaustion.

Cough most oppressive today.” “June 26th. — I am just this minute returned from Drogheda. Mr.

Tobias, Mr. F., and John accompanied me. Yesterday morning they entertained us with a public breakfast: you know I not only do not like, but detest, such meetings. How ever, as it was done to honor me, I endeavored to receive it in good part, and gave them a sort of sermon for about half an hour. [The interval to the evening was spent in an excursion to the scene of the battle of the Boyne, and some other remarkable spots.] I went into all the hovels in this most miserable village, (Munsterboyce,) where Mr. Butterworth’s bounty enabled me to leave a handful of silver last year. I found them in the same or worse misery; and, trusting in God, I opened my stock, and according to their different necessities divided with them, at least, as much as last year I got a torrent of most hearty prayers for me and mine. I was not a little tried when I found I must preach in the new market-place in the open air The hour came, and I went to the spot. There were about a thousand people; many Catholics, and among them two or three priests. There were also two clergymen. What good may have been done, I know not. If God have glory, my labor is not in vain.” “July 1st. — We began our Stationing Committee this morning, and have just got through forty Circuits. Tomorrow will finish that part of the work; and on Friday we enter on the regular work of the Conference.”

The business of the Stationing Committee brought more vividly before Dr. Clarke’s mind his own approaching change of Circuit; a subject which, in his peculiar circumstances, excited some uneasiness. It is on this point that he here adds: “Now, my dear Mary, with respect to going to Liverpool: I am far from being happy in London. I feel uncomfortable in Harpur-street.

I am maintained by the Society, and they have no adequate work for their money. I do not think I am acting with justice, to take the maintenance of a preacher, while not doing one-half of his work. Added to this, it is a considerable expense to Mr. B. to make up taxes and deficiencies You know I am not partial to Liverpool; yet here there seems to be an open door. Not only the Catholic lady was converted when I preached there on my way hither, but also a deist. Perhaps by others, more accustomed to see God’s hand in these matters, these would be considered tokens for good, and particular calls. What can I do? My own mind leads me to give up at once, because I cannot do the full work; and neither my judgment nor conscience will allow me to eat bread in this way, which I have not earned.

Indeed, the business is come to a crisis with me. In my present way I shall go on no longer. I have suffered greatly in my mind last year on this account; and shall I commence another in the same circumstances? My day of digging is over; and, as to begging, I never could do it. But I may still earn a little bread; though, from all appearances, not long. But that I must leave. I feel I am too much in the bustle of life, and to this there is no congeniality in my nature. My heart and soul have long said, ‘O that I had in the wilderness the lodging place of a wayfaring man!’ But I am brought on the eve of Conference, without plan, arrangement, or prospect of being put in circumstances where my mind can be at ease My cough and oppression still continue unabated, and I am not able to take as much sleep as is necessary to support life.”

We transcribe these sentences, however reluctantly, to show the honorable feelings of the writer, and to make them serve to explain some of the aftermovements of his life. But, while we read them, let us bear in mind that he who was giving way to morbid self-accusations was all the while one of the most hard working men among all his contemporaries in the Lord’s vineyard. Let us hear him in the next letter: — “July 5th. — From six in the morning till four, in the Conference.

Before I go in the morning, writing till within the few minutes it takes to trot to the chapel. As soon as I come home, up with the pen, and continue every minute till I go to bed, except the very short time I take to get a little food. I do not get half sleep. I have preached this morning at seven, at Gravel-walk. Before I went, hard at work. The congregation was vast, and the place very hot. Spent myself; but, as soon as I came home, to work again, and continued till half-past one. Then to Whitefriars’, to preach to an immense congregation. Worked two hours. Home, and, except about half an hour for dinner, at the writing again; and now it is about eight o’clock P.M., when I sit down to write to you. — I received yours with the proof, and have hurried much to correct it. This morning I received a letter from the Speaker and Mr. Cayley, inquiring when I shall return, and requesting me to come to the Tower, and see what they are doing there for me; requesting me also to go to Oxford, and collate a copy of the Boldon-Book, in the Bodleian library. One day only is allowed me in the Tower before I go to Oxford. I must go straight to London, and then to Oxon even before Conference.

The above orders are made out to me in the form of respectful requests. You know I must either go on or stop. I am in a continual fever, and my breast gets no time to heal; the oppression and cough are grievous. Is there any such a fool as I am alive? My life is incessant labor and anxiety.”

What follows shows a heart fall of sympathy for the trials of his afflicted brethren: — “Yesterday poor John Grace, one of our best preachers, was buried. He had set out for Conference, was taken ill on the road, and died at Mountrath. The circumstances of this case are distressing and horrible.

Before leaving his Circuit, he had an inflammation in his chest; riding increased it. When he came to a friend’s house at Mountrath, perceiving him to be very ill, they sent for a doctor named _____. This rascal ordered him to drink cold water, and pronounced aloud in the family that his disorder was a dangerous, malignant, and highly-infections fever. The people of the house took the alarm, and requested that he might be removed. No one would take him in. Poor Henry Deery, his colleague, ran away into the town, found an empty house, got a bed, &c., into it; and, just as they were going to hurry the dying messenger of Christ into it, the whole neighborhood rose, having heard of the vile quack’s decision, and absolutely refused to let him be brought there. The family where he lay were in the utmost distress, — the doctor insisting that, to preserve them from the infection, he must be removed within an hour. Poor Deery was at his wits’ end. A waste shattered building contiguous to the house was pitched on as the only asylum. Deery went and got bundles of straw, and stopped up the breaches and crevices in the walls. Poor John Grace was then rolled up in the bed-clothes; the bed was got into this place, and he was lifted over a wall, to be stretched on that from which he never more removed He called out for some cold water. It was brought; and, having drunk it, he said, ‘I shall soon drink of that over, the streams of which make glad the city of God.’ There was just time enough to send for his poor wife, who got to the wretched hovel in time to close the eyes of her husband, the father of her five children. Such was the end of John Grace, alter having spent twenty-five years in the public ministry of the word. O God, how unsearchable are Thy ways!” “July 11th. — I am never happy from home, and even journeys of pleasure to me are journeys of pain. Company I do not love, no matter of what description; and I scarcely can ever find freedom in places where even good cheer, good breeding, good sense, and religion itself predominate.” (A strange man, according to his own view of himself, just then.) “To many places of this kind I am invited in this city: great crowds of the best of the people are gathered together to do me honor. I wonder that such invitations are repeated, as I often sit like a person speechless, or one in whose mouth there are no reproofs. Those who are strangers to me must have, in every sense, a mean opinion of me; for, though I hope I in general conduct myself according to the rules of good breeding, yet I cannot be polite, — i. e., pay compliments without rhyme or reason. I cannot be a pleasing companion to those who may think themselves entitled to this kind of entertainment; and, as I rarely speak in public company, I consequently neither please nor instruct by my conversation. In short, I never was made for the world.”

It may have been true enough that the Doctor, in common with many other eminent scholars, had occasionally these feelings of constraint in society: but that such feelings were so habitual as to become characteristic, is more than will be admitted by many persons, yet surviving, who remember and can never forget the genial glow of his conversation in the social circle. “July 14th. — Tomorrow, please God, I sail for England, as I shall finish the Conference with a forenoon’s sitting. Their financial affairs here take up so much time. The business transacted at the District-Meetings in England is all done here in open Conference: a fearful waste of time. But for this we should have done three days ago.” “Chester, July 18th. — From Bangor-Ferry to St. Asaph, and thence to Holywell and this city, where we arrived after one. Never have I felt myself so exhausted. In the last two stages I was nearly (completely done in). My whole vital energy seems nearly gone; and I would sacrifice not a little to be in London, as I have seriously feared whether I shall not be laid up. I suppose it is the effect of fatigue and anxiety, and that a day or two of rest will restore me. But where should I get rest? Here I am among perfect strangers; and the cry is, preach, preach. I have promised to preach tomorrow morning.”

Seventeen days after the last date we find him again leaving London for Oxford, from which he writes: — Aug. 5th. — We reached Oxford between eight and nine. It being the raceweek, we found it difficult to procure a lodging at the Angel, but succeeded at the Mitre. This morning Mr. Gabriel’s friend procured us the lodgings in Broad-street, where I now write. I have waited on Mr. Gaisford, Regius Professor of Greek, with the Speaker’s letter. He received us very politely, and invited us to dine in public hall in Christchurch. We have accordingly dined today in the first college of the first university in the world.”

Writing Aug. 8th, he refers to this again: “It was no small gratification to me to sit on the same seat and eat at the same table where Charles Wesley sat and ate nearly one hundred years ago. At Christchurch the Speaker was educated. I believe he wrote strongly to his college to show me every respect and they have done so. “After my labor yesterday at the Bodleian, I went to visit several colleges, and, among the rest, Lincoln, of which Mr. J. Wesley was fellow. One of the poorest-looking of the colleges; but it has been the parent, under God, of the greatest work of a spiritual and reforming nature that has appeared upon earth since the second century. How many millions have been saved since John and Charles Wesley first gave themselves to God in this place! And yet this city is like the coiners in our Mint: it has made the gold for others, and is not thereby enriched. I have been here four days, and have not seen the face of a Methodist. I am going this evening to look for some, that I may hear some kind of preaching tomorrow (Sunday) that will do me some good. Nobody that I meet knows anything of them. In this case, how like is Oxford to Jerusalem and Zion! The law proceeded from the latter, and the word (doctrine) of the Lord from the former; but how little did either Zion or Jerusalem retain of either! So this great work of God, which began in and proceeded from Oxford, has hallowed the whole nation, and yet Oxford has not profited by it. The lines of Virgil came to my mind; which Theo. may translate to you: — ‘Sic vos non vobis mellificotis apes; Sic vos non vobis nidificotis aves; Sic vos non vobis vellera fertis oves; Sic vos non vobis fertis aratra boves.’ “As far as Methodism is concerned, they may be applied to the ancient and learned city and university of Oxford.”

Resuming his work in London, in the pulpit, the committee-room, and especially that of the Bible Society, — in visiting the sick, and in carrying on an extensive correspondence, always answering letters as soon as he had received them, — the departing year left him swallowed up in a complication of duties which tasked his strength to the utmost. In grappling with these obligations, days, weeks, and months were all too short. “You know,” says he, writing to a friend, “that when I am at home I am never an hour disengaged, being as mere a slave as any on this side the Pillars of Hercules. Every hour has its work, and such work as requires every minute of the sixty. Judge, then, how much of my London labor was behind, after an absence of five weeks. I was almost terrified to return, knowing what a chaos I should find, to reduce to order. I have been laboring to bring up my lee-way, — tugging at the oar for life. You may think that, during my excursion, I must have acquired a measure of additional health, an d am the better able to ride out the storm. I gained no ground, but lost some. You shall judge. I traveled by mail two nights and a day to Liverpool; set off for Stockport, to preach for their schools: collection, 122. I then rode off for Manchester; preached the same evening for the schools: collection, 154. Without waiting to eat, took coach for Nut-Grove, near St. Helen’s, where I arrived about two o’clock on Monday morning. In the course of that week I preached again and again.

The next Sabbath morning I had to preach before three hundred ministers two hours, enough to (thoroughly exhaust) or (prostrate) *[See Transcriber Note-2] a strong man for a fortnight. The next Sabbath, at Warrington, for a Sunday-school. Friday, for Worcester, to open a new chapel: collection 211, 4s. One hour out of the chapel, and I began again, a second sermon: collection, 100 0s. 9d. Without waiting to eat, set off on my way to Liverpool. At Penkridge I lay down about three hours and a half, bought a penny roll, rode again , and traveled eighty miles without stopping to take a morsel of food but my penny roll. After various excursions and fatigues, which my paper will not permit me to enumerate, I got back to London with a decrease both of mental and corporeal energy, to gird myself to new labors no less exhausting or depressing than those through which I have passed.”

At the Conference of 1814, which was held in Bristol, Dr. Clarke was elected for the second time to the presidential chair, and, against his own inclinations, was desired to prolong his residence in London. The preceding year had been distinguished in the annals of Methodism by the formation of the Wesleyan Missionary Society. In itself essentially a missionary institution, Methodism has always put forth an evangelizing energy which lives with its life and extends with its extent, “spreads undivided,” and, we may safely add, yet “operates unspent.” The Wesleys themselves labored as missionaries in Georgia; and, while as yet the system in England had but comparatively “a little strength,” it stretched its arm across the Atlantic, and turned vast regions of that continent from a moral wilderness into a fruitful field. In 1769 Messrs. Boardman and Pilmoor went from the Conference, with fifty pounds, to America, and laid the foundation of what is now the Methodist Episcopal Church, with its universities, schools, Bible and Missionary Societies, its apostolic bishops, its thousands of ordained ministers, its thousands more of local preachers and exhorters, and a body of communicants greatly exceeding a million.

Among the men who took a prominent part in these great movements was one whose revered name is indissolubly joined with the cause of Christian missions, the Reverend Dr. Thomas Coke. This great evangelist carried the Gospel to myriads beyond the western sea, both on the continent and in the islands. The slave-population of the West Indies heard from his lips the truth which was destined to set them free the truth which, as to civil liberty, trained them to receive it, and meanwhile made multitudes of them partakers of the more glorious liberty of the sons of God. In the prosecution of these blessed embassies the Doctor crossed the Atlantic ocean eighteen times; and at length, at an advanced age, fulfilling the last wish of his heart, — the establishment of a mission to India and the East, — he died at sea on the 2nd of May, 1815.

The West-India missions had not only been originated, and hitherto superintended, by Dr. Coke, but, we may say, they had been supported by him; largely from his own private resources, and more adequately by his unwearied diligence in collecting for them, literally from door to door.

The present writer well remembers him, as coming again and again to his father’s house, book in hand, to receive the accustomed subscription. He may be also permitted to record his reminiscence of hearing the Doctor preach his last sermon in England, on the eve of his embarkation for the East; the text being the prophecy in the sixty-eighth Psalm: “Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God.” It may be easily conceived that the loss of such a man would be felt as a heavy blow to the Methodist missions. But He whose ways are not as our ways willed that this very loss should tend rather to the furtherance of the Gospel. A new sense of obligation to take this great cause in hand more fully took possession of the minds both of ministers and people; and the result was the rapid organization of the Wesleyan Missionary Society, which, rising from small beginning, has taken a rank among the beneficent institutions of Christianity scarcely second to any. Its ordained agents, including those who have relation to the affiliated Conferences, are more than six hundred in number, besides some nine hundred salaried catechists, interpreters, exhorters, &c., and more than ten thousand unpaid agents. By its means the Gospel is preached in more than twenty languages at three thousand six hundred and fifty places in various parts of Europe, India, China, Southern and Western Africa, the West Indies, Australia, Canada, and Eastern British America. Within the forty years of its existence, immense multitudes, who are now with the dead, have heard by it the tidings of salvation; and myriads have been gathered into the church, who, in life and death, have given good evidence that they found those tidings true; while at present 114,528 church-m embers are under the care of the missionaries, with 94,500 children, who receive instruction in their schools.

Into this new development of Christian zeal Dr. Clarke entered with his whole soul. Henceforward a new claim on his time and strength, as an advocate of the missionary cause, was often enough made; but never, if it could be met, was it slighted or refused. At the first Missionary Meeting held in City-road chapel, December, 1814, he presided, and delivered an inaugural discourse, which was afterwards published under the title of “A short Account of the Introduction of the Gospel into the British Isles; and the Obligation of Britons to make known its Salvation to every Nation of the Earth.” The Commentary, too, was now in rapid progress; and, in transmitting one of the parts to the Speaker of the House of Commons, the author accompanied it with a letter, an extract from which is here given, on account of the references made in it to that communion whose interests and honor the Doctor ever delighted to identify with his own: — “As the people with whom I am religiously connected are not only very numerous, but of considerable weight in the land, I have not hesitated to show them that those sacred oracles from which they derive the principles of their faith and practice are in perfect consonance with those of the British Constitution, and the doctrines of the Established Church: not that I doubted their loyalty or attachment to the State or the Church, but to manifest to them and future generations the absolute necessity of holding fast that ‘form of sound words’ which distinguishes our National Church, and ever connects the fear of God with honor to the king. “Sir, it is with the most heartfelt pleasure that I can state to you, that this immense body of people are, from conscience and affection, attached to the constitution both in Church and State; and the late decisions in behalf of religious toleration have powerfully served to rivet that attachment.”

The duties of Dr. Clarke’s second presidential year were largely augmented, as already intimated, by the formation of various Branch Missionary Societies in different parts of the kingdom; for which, and other religious interests, he undertook extensive journeys, in the course of which we find him preaching and holding public meetings in Bristol and Bath, in Exeter, Plymouth, and some parts of Cornwall; and then, northward, in Birmingham, Liverpool, and other places. Everywhere crowds hung upon his lips, and the word preached came with the saving power of grace to the hearts of many, while it stirred up the various churches thus visited, by thoughts of “whatsoever things are true,” and “honest,” and “lovely,” and “of good report,” to give the greater diligence in making their own election sure, and promoting the cause of their Saviour in the world. At the Conference held in Manchester, he gave up the insignia of the office he had so well sustained into the hands of his successor, the Rev. John Barber, a venerable servant of Christ, who, as the event proved, was then within a flew months of the termination of his earthly course.

With Dr. Clarke the time had now happily come when the same Providence which had dictated his longer residence in London, was about to open to him the doors of a more tranquil retreat, where he would be enabled, with greater freedom from interruption, to prosecute those theologic essays he was so anxious to complete before the arrival of the fast-approaching time when he too should “cease at once to work and live.” “I have made up my mind,” says he, “if God will open me a way, to leave this distracting city, and get out of the way even of a turnpike-road, that I may get as much out of every passing hour as I can. I ought to have no work at present but the Commentary; for none can comprehend the trouble, and often anguish, which the writing of these notes costs me; and what adds to the perplexity is the multitude of little things to which almost incessantly my attention is demanded. Matters are come to this, — if I do not at once get from many of my avocations, I shall soon be incapable of prosecuting any. I must hide my head in the country, or it will shortly be hidden in the grave.”

This was a decision which, in regard to various philanthropic institutions in London, to which he had long given his gratuitous and effective aid, as well as to the feelings of a multitude who had greatly profited under his ministry, could only be unwelcome, except for the personal relief it would give to one so highly honored and esteemed, whose added years, it was well believed, would be fully consecrated to the same great objects which had commanded the days of the past.

CHAPTER 8

THE STUDENT AND SCHOLAR

Hitherto our narrative has turned mainly on those incidents of life, and traits of character, which relate to the subject of our memoir as a Christian minister: but a biography of Adam Clarke would be essentially defective, in which a respectful homage was not rendered to his memory as a scholar and a man of letters. Unhappily, the scanty limits of the present work will not allow of extensive disquisition [treatise] on this topic, were the writer ever so well able to indulge in it. Necessity prescribes that our pages should teem with facts rather than fancies, and should treasure up materials which the thoughtful reader may make the subject of his own considerations. For myself, I enter on this chapter with a mortifying sense of insufficiency. I am not going to affect the critic, or to sit in judgment on the intellect and learning of a man the latchet of whose shoes I should have been unworthy to unloose. On the other hand, I may be doing a pleasurable service to my readers by collecting and setting down such notices of his mental development as have been given, here and there, by Dr. Clarke himself, or by those who knew him intimately.

We are first led back to the village-school in Ireland, where the child, under the indignant glance of his disappointed and anxious father, tried to learn, but could not. The circumstances under which this physical inability was overcome have been already detailed. His intellect seemed to undergo a sudden regeneration. The ability to learn was given him, as it were, in an instant of time. In his own words, “it was not acquired by slow degrees; there was no conquest over inaptitude and dullness by persevering and gradual conflict: the power seemed generated in a moment, and in a moment there was a transition from darkness to light, from mental imbecility to intellectual rigor; and no means nor excitements were brought into operation but those mentioned in the narrative. The reproaches of his schoolfellow were the spark which fell on the gunpowder and inflamed it instantly. The inflammable material was there before, but the spark was wanting. This would be a proper subject for the discussion of those who write on the philosophy, of the human mind.”

Dr. Clarke always considered this incident as having an important bearing on his destiny, and often mentioned it as “a singular providence which gave a strong characteristic coloring to his subsequent life.” He says that it may not be unworthy the consideration of the instructors of youth, but may teach the masters of the rod and ferula [stick] that those are not the instruments of instruction, though proper enough for the correction of the obstinate and indolent; that motives to emulation, and the prevention of disgrace, may be in some cases more effectual than any punishment inflicted on the flesh. “Let not the reader imagine from this detail,” says he, “that A. C. found no difficulty afterwards in the acquisition of knowledge.

He ever found an initial difficulty to comprehend anything; and till he could comprehend in some measure the reason of a thing, he could not acquire the principle itself. In this respect there was a great difference between him and his brother: the latter apprehended a subject at first sight, and knew as much of it in a short time as ever he knew after: the former was slow in apprehension, and proceeded with great caution, till he was sure of his principles; he then went forward with vigor, in pushing them to their utmost legitimate consequences.”

These two brothers had for some time but an interrupted school-tuition, from the demand which the garden and fields made upon their labor. “Before and after school-hours was the only time their father could do anything in his little farm; the rest of the toil, except in those times when several hands must be employed to plant and sow and gather in the fruits of the earth, was performed by his two sons. This cramped their education, but labor omnia vincit improbus: the two brothers went ‘day about’ to school, and he who had the advantage of the day’s instruction remembered all he could, and imparted on his return to him who continued in the farm all the knowledge he had acquired in the day. Thus they were alternately instructors and scholars, and each taught and learned for the other. This was making the best of their circumstances; and such a plan is much more judicious than that which studies to make one son a scholar while the others are the drudges of the family, whereby jealousies and feuds are often generated.” No doubt this alternation of rustic exercise with school-seclusion had a good effect in strengthening the child’s physical constitution, and in contributing to insure him a healthy mind in a healthy body. Good air and exercise have a wondrous influence in giving tone to the intellect, as in after-life Adam Clarke found, when, a wandering itinerant, he read many a book and thought out many a sermon sub dio, on the high road, or in the wayside field. So in his school-days, in summer-time, his lessons were often conned [learned by heart] in the open air. “The school,” he tells us, “was situated in the skirt of a wood on a gently-rising eminence, behind which a hill, thickly covered with bushes of different kinds and growth, rose to a considerable height. In front of this there was a great variety of prospect both of hill and dale, where, in their seasons, all the operations of husbandry might be distinctly seen. The boys who could be trusted were permitted in the fine weather to go into the wood to study their lessons.”

On this pleasant slope, with the auburn and purple moorlands spread out before him, the sunlit sea in the distance, and the smoke from the cottage chimneys here and there rising into the quiet sky, the boy would find that the pages of Virgil had a charm which made the task of construing, a labor of love. “Quid faciat laetas segetes,” &c., would have a commentary on the page of nature before him, as well as in the words of the annotator in the margin.

What makes a plenteous harvest; when to turn The fruitful soil, and when to sow the corn; The care of sheep, of oxen, and of kine; And how to raise on elms the teeming vine; The birth and genius of the frugal bee, I sing, Maecenas, and I sing to thee.” “In this most advantageous situation,” to quote his own words, “Adam read the Eclogues and Georgics of Virgil, where he had almost every scene described in those poems, exhibited in real life before his eyes. If ever he enjoyed real intellectual happiness, it was in that place and in that line of study. These living scenes were often finer comments on the Roman poet than all the labored notes and illustrations of the Delphin editors and the Variorum critics.”

The glimpses which his school-books gave into the by-gone times of Greek and Roman history, awoke in his mind a strong desire to become more fully acquainted with them; and, among other methods which his scanty means allowed him, he procured “an old copy of Littleton’s Dictionary, and made himself master of all the proper names, so that there was neither person nor place in the classic world of which he could not give an account. This made him of great consideration among his schoolfellows, and most of them in all the forms generally applied to him for information.”

His love of reading had already become intense and unconquerable. “To gratify this passion, he would undergo any privations. The pence that he and his brother got, they carefully saved for the purchase of some book Theirs was but a little library, but to them right precious.” He gives a list of some of the books; where, with Jack the Giant-killer, we have Guy Earl of Warwick, the Seven Wise Masters, the Nine Worthies of the World, the Seven Champions, Sir Francis Drake, Robinson Crusoe, and Montelion, or the Knight of the Oracle; the Gentle Shepherd, the Peruvian Tales, and the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments; with many others.

In those fanciful days he greatly delighted himself with whatever books he could get of a romantic kind, written in a metrical form; and, as he grew up, he became extensively read in the popular ballad-literature both of England and Ireland. In after-years he used to boast that his library contained some of the choicest specimens of the old poetic romances. His mind, indeed, may not have been poetical; and the pleasure which in later days he found in that description of reading, resulted rather from the insight it gave him into the manners and feelings of past generations, than from any sympathy with the charms of the poem itself. In that respect he read only as an antiquarian [one who studies antiquities]. Thus, referring to the metrical ballads of Sir Walter Scott, he said, “I scarcely ever give myself the trouble to read the poetry: the notes are the most valuable part of the book to me, and these I can convert to my own purposes.” Nor is it at all improbable that the first impulse of his mind to antiquarian studies was communicated by his converse, in childhood, with these versified traditions of the past.

Nor was he without some skill in those days in stringing rhymes together.

A specimen which has come down to us, composed “one Saturday afternoon, at a time when he had not learned to write small hand, so that he was obliged to employ his brother to write down the verses from his lips,” shows, if not a precocity [premature development] of genius, yet an amount of talent which, if cultivated, would have given him a place, at least, among our second-rate poets. Along with his classical lessons at school, in Greek and Latin, he received some instruction in mathematics and French; in which departments a good foundation was laid for the progressive attainments of coming life. One circumstance we should not omit: He tells us he found it much easier to learn after his conversion to God. “Though he could not well enter into the spirit of Lucian and Juvenal, which he then read, yet he was surprised to find how easy, in comparison of former times, learning appeared. The grace which he had received greatly illumined and improved his understanding, and learning now seemed to him little more than an exercise of memory. He has often said, ‘After I found the peace of God, I may safely assert that I learned more in one day than I could formerly in a month. And no wonder; my soul began to rise out of the ruins of its fall, by the favor of the Eternal Spirit. I found that religion was the gate to true learning, and that they who went through their studies without it had double work to do.’ “ In English reading, he was engaged at this time with some very good books, which were sanctified to his improvement both in mind and heart. Such were the works of Derham and Ray. He read them with Kersey’s and Martin’s Dictionaries by him for the explanation of technical words.

Baxter’s “Saints’ Everlasting Rest,” and the Life of the devoted Brainerd, he perused with solemn and prayerful joy. These two latter books seem to have given him a great impulse toward the ministry; and this was probably what he meant when, expressing his obligations to Mrs. Rutherford, who had lent them to him, he said that it was she who had made him a preacher.

Such was the stage of mental culture he had attained, when entering, under the circumstances already related, on the life and labors of an itinerant Methodist preacher. On leaving Ireland for Kingswood, these treasures of the mind were his only patrimony. Even of books of his own he had scarcely any to take away. “I brought from home an English Bible, a Greek Testament, Prideaux’s Connection, and Young’s Night Thoughts, on the margin of which I had written a number of notes. It was a favorite with some of my children, and remained in the family when the others had gone.

Young I twice recaptured; once from Anna, and once from Eliza; but where it now is I cannot tell.”

In the first Circuit some few attempts were made to keep up his classical reading, but with little effect, from the want of suitable books, and the necessity of preparation for the constant work of preaching, on which he had now fully entered. In the course of the year, as we have seen, he was induced by the influence of well meant but barbarous advice to give up scholastic learning altogether. Yet it may be questioned whether the four years’ recess from those particular studies, which followed his adoption of that advice, was really detrimental to his mental education, considered as a whole. A man requires something more than Greek and Latin to be a preacher of the Gospel. A mere classical scholar, whose mind is not stored with general knowledge, and whose reasoning faculties are suffered to lie dormant, is but poorly fitted for the grand labors of the Christian ministry; and Adam Clarke, while he left Homer and Virgil to their repose, was earnestly engaged in gathering in, and in giving forth to others, the precious fruits of that knowledge of the word and ways of God which makes the moral life of man strong, healthy, and beautiful. He began the study of the Hebrew Bible, read a good deal in French, and made his first essay in authorship itself, by translating some of the Abbe’ Maury’s Discourse on Pulpit Eloquence for the Arminian Magazine. He, moreover, enlarged his acquaintance with the works of the great English theologians. He read widely and diligently, morning, noon, and night, not only in his different places of sojourn, but in walking and riding as well. Thus those years were by no means lost, but, probably, more substantially improved than they would have been by the bald word-studies he had been led for that time to abandon. However this be considered, the time came when he could conscientiously resume them. Mr. Wesley, to whom in 1786 he had sent the translation from Maury, in kindly acknowledging it, charged him “to cultivate his mind, as far as his circumstances would allow, and not to forget anything he had ever learned.” “This,” says he, “was a word in season, and, next to the Divine oracles, of the highest authority with Mr.

C. He began to reason with himself thus: ‘ What would he have me to do?

He certainly means that I should not forget the Latin and Greek which I have learned; but then he does not know that by a solemn vow I have abjured the study of those languages for ever. But was such a vow lawful?

Is the study of Hebrew and Greek, the languages in which God has given the Old and New Testaments, sinful? It must have been laudable in some, else we should have had no translations. Is it likely that what must have been laudable in those who have translated the sacred writings, can be sinful in any, especially in ministers of God’s holy word? I have made the vow, it is true; but who required it? What have I gained by it? I was told it was dangerous, and would fill me with pride, and pride would lead me to perdition: but who told me so? Could Mr. _____, at whose suggestions I abandoned all the se studies, be considered as a competent judge? I fear I have been totally in error, and that my vow may rank with rash ones.

Which, then, is the greater evil, — to keep it, or to break it? I should beg pardon from God for having made it: and, if it were sinful to make, it is so to keep it.’ So he kneeled down, and begged God to forgive the rash vow, and to undo any obligation which might remain. He arose satisfied that he had done wrong in making it, and that it was his duty now to cultivate his mind in every way, to be a workman needing not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”

In resuming the classics, he found he had so far forgotten the grammatical forms, as to be obliged to begin almost de novo. But he now took care to lay the foundations strongly in acquiring the Greek and Latin accidences; and, going to work in good earnest, soon regained what had been lost, and thenceforth made steady advancements.

From the time of his appointment to Bristol, after his return from the Channel Islands, he was unusually successful in gathering together in his library the best editions of the classical authors, and spread out his reading in all directions, till in the lapse of years, spent in persevering study, he had become familiar with the great authors of antiquity, from Homer and Herodotus down to the Neo-Platonists of Alexandria and the Byzantine annalists. In communion with these great minds he lived through the ages of the past: he saw, in the drama of the Iliad, Troy sink in flame and thunder; he wandered with Ulysses in his homeward way, and voyaged with the Argonauts through the gorgeous scenes portrayed by Apollonius.

He sat with Theocritus among the wild thyme of the Sicilian hills; with Hannibal he gazed on Italy from the Alpine rocks; and stood with Scipio amid the ruins of Carthage. He heard Demosthenes on the Pnyx, Cicero at the bar, and Plato in the academic grove. And these sights and voices of times for ever gone did not yield him pleasure only, they brought him profit: he read with a purpose, and made every acquisition subservient to the great design of his life, the elucidation of the Bible, and the advancement of religious truth among mankind. He had ascertained that all knowledge helped to promote this end; and wherever it was to be obtained, there was he. Ubi mel ibi apis; and, like the bee, he gathered honey from every flower. This profiting appears to all who are acquainted with his works, and especially in the Commentary; in reading which, we see how affluent was the author’s erudition [great learning], and with what advantage he employs it in illustrating the sacred text, seeking to bring every imagination and thought of even heathen minds into subservience to the cause of Christ, and to make the heroes, historians, poets, and philosophers of the pagan world, so many Nethinim, to do such employment as they could in the courts of the one true God.

So, too, there are those yet living who remember with an unfading pleasure how richly the conversation of Doctor Clarke was pervaded with choice and useful allusions derived from classic literature; while, occasionally, an hour spent in listening to him yielded as much profit as a day’s reading.

But, respectable as were his attainments in what is strictly classic erudition, Dr. Clarke stands out more prominently among the scholars of his time as a master of Oriental learning. In this respect his celebrity is, perhaps, not owing so much to a thorough and practical acquaintance with the languages of the East, as to the circumstance that the cultivation of them has met with but little patronage in our country, and has called forth the resolute energy requisite to excel in them from comparatively few of the scholars of England. It is true that life is short, and that knowledge is a boundless deep; that, where the whole of a man’s years are devoted to study, he cannot learn everything; and that, in general, a serious application to the classics or mathematics, combined with professional duties, will not allow men to meddle with Hebrew or Persian. But what is a just matter of complaint is, that when men have been led to encounter such tasks, and have so far succeeded as to be able to promote this description of learning through the medium of the press, they have been almost uniformly called to suffer for it: so that what Solomon the king wrote, that “he who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow,” has been fulfilled in them. The greatest work in Oriental literature we English possess, next to the London Polyglot Bible, (itself elaborated with much anxiety, as well as toil,) is the Heptaglot Lexicon of Edmund Castel; in the completion of which the author, instead of winning a fortune, spent one, and brought himself to the threshold of a jail. We have seen that to the laudable overtures of Dr. Clarke and the Rev. Josiah Pratt for a new edition of the Polyglot, no response worth naming was given: a conclusion almost as impotent as what followed when another learned person published a Prospectus for a new edition of Meninski’s Thesaurus, and received in return the name of one subscriber, and that one, not an Englishman, but a Pole!

It may not excite great surprise that the dead languages of the Orient are so scantily cultivated in our schools of learning; but it is a marvel in the eyes of our Continental neighbors, that England, with such extensive relations to the East, should be so indifferent to the knowledge of the living tongues of the people whom Providence has brought under her protection, or subjected to her rule. One would think our Indian and Asiatic interests would cause the study of Sanskrit, Hindustanee, Arabic, Armenian, and Persian, to become almost as popular as German or French. France, which has no such interests to operate as a motive to the patronage of such studies, has for many years sustained the means of a gratuitous prosecution of them by all who desire such advantages. At Paris, where I have for months together enjoyed the privilege of lessons, without money or price, there are Professors’ chairs for the current languages of the East, free of access to all. Great patronage is also given in Germany, and even in Denmark, to the same pursuits. From the imperial press at Vienna editions of the most important works in Oriental learning are continually issuing; while the Russian government makes such studies imperative on large classes of its subjects. Every country which has commercial or diplomatic relations with Russia, has its linguistic representatives in the schools of St.

Petersburg, — Novo Tcherskask, Storopol, and Kazan, — where the languages of Circassia, Tartary, Turkey, Persia, Arabia, India, and China, form a regular part of the education of young men, according to the department of public service to which they are destined. In England some progress has been made of late years, but not enough; far from enough to answer to the scale of our advantages or our duties. In addition to what has been done in the establishment at Haileybury, greater effectiveness should be given to the study of the Oriental languages in our Universities, by more stringent requirements and more generous rewards; and in the metropolis there should be, as in Paris, free schools, — or, if we cannot afford to go so far, then schools at an easy rate of payment for the encouragement of hundreds of young men who would gratefully avail themselves of such a privilege.

To return to Dr. Clarke: — The first bias of his mind toward this kind of learning seems to have been given at a very early time of life. He tells us that the reading of the “Arabian Nights’ Entertainments” gave him that decided taste for Oriental history which proved so useful to him in his biblical studies. He wished to acquaint himself more particularly with races of people whose customs and manners, both religious and civil, were so strange and curious; and he never lost sight of this till Divine Providence opened his way, and put the means in his power to gain some acquaintance with the principal languages of the East.

Under the circumstances already related, he began Hebrew at Trowbridge.

He entered heartily upon it, and soon made himself master of as much as could be gathered from Bayley’s Grammar. The excellence of this work consists in a variety of copious extracts from the Bible, with a translation and analysis; but, as a grammar, it fails to give a perspicuous exhibition of the forms of the language, and is now become obsolete. It is, however, a kind of amiable book; and a copy is worth having. Dr. Bayley, the author, after leaving Kingswood, obtained some church-preferment in Manchester.

Mr. Wesley in his Journal mentions being once his guest in that city, and expresses the pleasure with which he heard Miss Bayley read a Hebrew psalm at the time of family prayer.

The next book Mr. Clarke appears to have got at Plymouth was, Leigh’s Critica Sacra, where he found the literal sense of every Greek and Hebrew word in the Old and New Testament, and the definitions enriched with theological and philological notes drawn from the best grammarians and critics. Just lately Dr. Kennicott had then published his edition of the Hebrew Bible. His sister, who resided at Plymouth-Dock, lent Mr. Clarke a copy; the careful reading of which gave him his first practical knowledge of Biblical criticism.

He first saw the Polyglot Bible in the public library at St. Helier’s, Jersey.

When first settled in the islands, he had set to work on Grabe’s Septuagint, with the desire to see how far it agreed with or differed from the Hebrew text, with which he had now become pretty familiar. He found that the Septuagint threw much light on the Hebrew; the translators, who had advantages we do not possess, having perpetuated the meaning of a multitude of Hebrew words, which would otherwise have passed away.

He read on in the Septuagitat to the end of the Psalms; noting down the most important differences in the margin of a quarto Bible in three volumes, which was afterwards unfortunately lost. At this time his own stock of books was very small; and, having no living teacher, he had to contend with difficulties at every stage. But, when it was his turn to serve in Jersey, he made all the use he could of the public library which had been established in St. Helier’s by the Rev. Mr. Falle, one of the ministers of the island, and its historian. Here, as before said, he had the use of Walton’s Polyglot. In reading the Prolegomena to the first volume, he perceived the importance of the Oriental versions there described, and began to feel an intense desire to read them. His first attempt was with the Samaritan text of the Pentateuch. This was easy work, as the words are all Hebrew, only expressed in the andent Samaritan character, which he very soon learned. This Samaritan text must be distinguished from the Samaritan Version of the Pentateuch, which is a different work. The text is an invaluable relict. It gives, occasionally, accounts of transactions mentioned by Moses which are more full than those of the Hebrew text; it expresses the words, also, more fully; gives the essential vowels which are supplied in the Hebrew text by the Masoretic points; and contains as well some important variations in the chronology. The Samaritan version is a Targum, or paraphrase on the text, in a mongrel dialect, which, with an Aramaic basis, comprises a multitude of words, Cuthite, Arabic, and Hebrew. “Having met with a copy of Walton’s Introductio ad Linguas Orientales, he next applied himself to the study of the Syriac.”

From that little manual, however, he would get no further instruction in Syriac than what relates to the orthoepy [the scientific study of the correct pronunciation of words] of the language; and that not delivered in the plainest manner. He was, therefore, thankful for the additional help afforded him in the Scholia Syriaca of Leusden. By the time he had mastered this, he was able to consult any text in the Syriac version; so that the Polyglot became more and more available to him. “All the time he could spare from the duties of his office, he spent in the public library, reading and collating the texts in the Polyglot, especially the Hebrew, Samaritan, Chaldee, Syriac, Vulgate, and Septuagint.

The Arabic, Persian, and Ethiopic he did not yet attempt, despairing to make any improvement in them without a preceptor.”

When obliged to leave the library, he cast a lingering look at the Polyglot, and sighed for one he could call his own. Providence gratified his desire, and in a way which he will best relate for himself: — “Knowing that he could not always enjoy the benefit of the public library, he began earnestly to wish to have a copy of his own; but three pounds per quarter, and his food, (which was the whole of his income as a preacher,) could ill supply any sum for the purchase of books Yet he believed that God in the course of His providence would furnish him with this precious gift. He had a strong confidence that by some means or other he should get a Polyglot. One morning a preacher’s wife who lodged in the same family said, ‘Mr. Clarke, I had a strange dream last night.’ ‘ What was it, Mrs. D.? ‘ said he. ‘ Why, I dreamed that some person had made you a present of a Polyglot Bible.’ He answered, Then I shall get one soon, I have no doubt.’ In the course of a day or two he received a letter containing a bank-note of 10 from a person from whom he never expected anything of the kind. He immediately said, ‘Here is the Polyglot.’ He wrote to a friend in London, who procured him a tolerably good copy, the price exactly ten pounds.”

Mr. Clarke’s appointment to Bristol afforded him yet greater facilities. He had access to some important libraries; and from the large collections of second-hand books he made continual accessions to his own. The Rev.

Henry Moore, referring to this period of his life, says: “I met him in Bristol. I was glad to see a considerable alteration in his person, though still nothing approaching the clerical costume. I found he had been a hard student, and had made progress, especially in Oriental literature. His library alarmed me. He had among his other works a Polyglot Bible, and he seemed determined to master every tongue in it. I said, ‘Brother Clarke, you have got a choice collection of books; but what will you do with them? As a Methodist preacher, you cannot give them that attention which they demand.’ He smiled, and said, ‘I will try.’ I found he had been trying indeed. To an improvement in Latin, Greek, and French, he had added a considerable knowledge of Hebrew; and he showed me a Chaldee Grammar which h e had himself written out, in order to be able to study the whole of the prophet Daniel. As he had not hitherto been appointed to Circuits favorable to such studies, I was surprised at the advancement he had made. Our common work at that time was to travel two or three hundred miles in a month, preach generally fifteen times in a week, and attend to various other duties; and, if Mr. Wesley heard of a very studious preacher, he was sure to keep him at that work, lest he should forget or lightly esteem the great design of God to which [the preachers] were expressly called in that extraordinary day; which was, not to dispense knowledge but life, even life from the dead. Knowledge would follow of course, if life were attained: but zeal and tender love for souls might easily be lost. His concise charge, when he received them as his helpers, was, ‘ You have nothing to do but to save souls; therefore spend and be spent therein.’” These reflections are good enough; but there was no need to make them in connection with Mr. Clarke’s name, and that Mr. Moore knew very well.

Indeed, he immediately adds: “But I found my friend had not neglected this high calling. His discourses seldom smelled of the lamp, and he was zealous for the Lord.” Mr. Clarke fully entered into the spirit and design of his revered father in the Gospel; and the “Twelve Rules of a Helper,” from which Mr. Moore quotes what he calls Mr. Wesley’s charge, were never more heartily observed than by him. In his old copy of the “Large Minutes,” I find his mark attached in the margin to the first of these Rules: “Be diligent: Never be unemployed a moment: Never be triflingly employed. Never while away time; neither spend any more time at any place than is strictly necessary.” The observance of that rule was the secret of the “progress” which astonished not his friend Moore only, but many besides.

In another part of the same manual, his mark stands also in the margin opposite the following passage, on the employment of time, addressed by Mr. Wesley to his preachers: — “We advise you, 1. As often as possible to rise at four. 2. From four to five in the morning, to meditate, pray, and read, partly the Scriptures with the Notes, partly the closely practical parts of what we have published. 3. From six in the morning till twelve, allowing an hour for breakfast, to read in order, with much prayer, the Christian Library, and the other books which we have published, in prose and verse.”

It will be seen, therefore, that Mr. Wesley never intended his preachers should be ignorant and illiterate men. Here are seven hours a day prescribed for study. Very few Methodist ministers in the present day can afford so much time for their books. The works recommended in the Minute were not, of course, to be the exclusive reading of the preachers; for elsewhere Mr. Wesley gives another list of works, comprising some of the principal of the classics, arranged for four years’ study; the going through which, he tells the preachers, would make a man a better scholar than many a graduate of the Universities.

Two years later Messrs. Moore and Clarke met again, when the former “was astonished at the progress” the latter “had made: he seemed to have Oriental learning at his fingers’ ends.” While residing at Bristol, on his second appointment to that city in l798, Mr. Clarke applied himself to learn Persian. He had now such an insight into the laws of languages, as to find assistance, rather than obstruction, in the simultaneous study of several of them. In one of his letters, written later in life to Mr. Hugh Stuart Boyd, who appears to have expressed a doubt as to the advisableness of such a course, he says: “I think it strange that you are of opinion that we cannot carry on consentaneously two or three languages at a time. If I could not do so, I think I should be tempted to run out into the street, and dash the place where the brains should be, against the first post I met.” In fact, the more he learned, the more he found he could learn. To him who had, was given. In Bristol he had become acquainted with a man of kindred spirit, and learned how true it is, in these matters as well as in others, that “as iron sharpeneth iron, so doth the countenance of a man his friend.” The gentleman I allude to was the late Mr. Charles Fox; one who to many elegant attainments added a passionate love for Oriental, and especially for Persian, poetry. Mr. Clarke and he became intimate, and each proved a help to the other. Clarke obtained a good deal of aid from Fox in the study of Persian; and Fox, by his converse and correspondence with his Methodist friend, became a devout believer, and exemplified in life and death the blessedness of the true Christian.

In Persian, Mr. Clarke commenced with the version of the Gospels in that language, found in the fifth volume of the London Polyglot; nor could he at that time have adopted a better textbook, as the subject was already familiar, and the language good idiomatic Persian. The version itself was not made from the Greek text, but from the Syriac Peschito, the very words of which are sometimes retained with a Persian gloss; but the body of the work is good Persian. Henry Martyn found that the Persians at Shiraz liked it better than the more recent translations. “To my surprise,” says he, “the old despised Polyglot version was not only spoken of as superior to the rest,” (i.e., the two by Sabat,) “but it was asked, ‘ What fault is found in this? This is the language we speak.’ “ The grammar Mr. Clarke used was that of Sir William Jones, no doubt, the best in existence. Of this elaborate work he wrote in after-days a masterly description in the Eclectic Review, which may be seen, also, in his Miscellaneous Works. The perusal of that review — as well as of others, in the same volume, on Wilkins’s Persian Dictionary, and Gilchrist’s Theory of the Persian Verbs — will reveal abundant evidence that in the progress of years the writer had become an accomplished critic in the literature of that beautiful tongue It will not be supposed that a man of Mr. Clarke’s tastes and impulses would remain satisfied without the knowledge of Arabic; a language which, for the purposes he had at heart, would have a higher claim upon his regard than that of the Persians. As a cognate of the Hebrew, it takes rank among the more strictly Biblical tongues; and some acquaintance with it will be helpful to the thorough study of the original text of the Old Testament. Dr. Clarke, however, was by no means disposed to attach that exaggerated importance to the knowledge of Arabic, in this respect, which has been claimed for it by some scholars. He gave it as his deliberate opinion, after much experience, that “a man may perfectly understand the whole phraseology of the Hebrew Bible who knows not a letter of the Arabic alphabet: and though we readily grant that a knowledge of that language may be of considerable service in supplying several deficient roots, whose derivatives alone remain in the Hebrew Bible; yet, as to the general understanding of the Hebrew Scriptures, we assert in our turn that a knowledge of Hellenistic Greek, and especially that of the Septuagint, will avail more toward a thorough understanding of the sacred text than all the Arabic in Hariri or the Koran. Of all the books in the Old Testament, the book of Job alone is that to which Arabic learning may be most successfully applied, from the number of Archaisms which it contains; yet even here it can do but little, as is evident from the excessive labors of Schultens and Chapelow on this book, — both eminent Arabic scholars and critics; who, nevertheless, in the judgment of those best qualified to form a correct opinion, have contributed little toward the elucidation of the difficulties found in this ancient book.” He entered, however, on the study with his wonted [accustomed] energy, and followed it up with such results as to become one of the most respectable Arabic scholars in England. The enthusiasm he felt in pursuit, in its earlier stages, discovers itself in the sacrafice he made to obtain what was then deemed, and rightly, the best lexicon to the language, the Thesaurus of Meninski. He had written to his bookseller to look out for a copy for him, and learned in reply that “one copy had been sold the day before, to a brother in the trade, for 30; that he had been to see what he would let it go for, and that he demanded forty guineas, saying he could make even more of it, but that he would keep it forty-eight hours for the answer.” Mr. Clarke immediately wrote to a friend for the loan of the money, since “without the Thesaurus he was at a stand in the prosecution of his studies;” engaging that he would “faithfully repay it in three months.” His friend, however, demurred [objected] to the greatness of the sum “ for a book,” and, instead of the forty guineas, sent him some dry advice on the necessity of learning the value of money, and of confining his wishes and wants within the limits of his circumstances. Nothing daunted, he went in person to another friend, and said, “Mr. Ewer, I want to borrow of you 40 for three months, at the end of which I will repay you.

Will you send me that sum?” To which the good man replied, “Yes, Mr.

Clarke, twenty times that sum for twenty times as long, if you wish it: you may have it today.” So Meninski was brought home, and became one of the choice companions of his life. In Arabian literature, as well as Persian, Dr. Clarke from time to time enriched his library with the choicest authors, both printed and in manuscript. His collection of Oriental manuscripts became at length truly magnificent. In the course of his earlier studies, he derived great advantage from the Bibliotheque Orientale” of D’Herbelot, and cherished a strong wish to publish an English translation of it. Among his other researches, he had become master of enough of Ethiopic and Coptic to be able to read and pronounce the few scanty pieces we have in those languages. Connected with the latter, there was a little incident which deserves to be set down. On one of his visits to London, in 1803, he met one day with the secretary of the Royal Society of Antiquarians, Dr. Brandt, who invited him to go with him to the Society’s Hall at Somerset House, to give an opinion upon a stone recently arrived from Egypt, with an inscription which had hitherto baffled all attempts to decipher it. The stone had been dug up by the French troops when at work in the trenches at Raschid, or Rosetta, in Lower Egypt. In the reverses of the war, it fell into the hands of Sir Sydney Smith, and, greatly to the mortification of the savans, had been transmitted to England, and entrusted to the care of the Royal Society of Antiquarians. The block, somewhat mutilated, bore a triple inscription; one in Greek, a second in hieroglyphics, and the third in forms which had defied all the learning of London to unravel. I will now let Mr. Clarke tell his own story, in writing home: — “I have been very little out since I came here; but, through Mr.

Baynes, I have had an interview with the secretary of the R. S. of Antiquarians, who informed me that they had received from Egypt a curious stone with a threefold inscription: one, hieroglyphics; the other, Greek; and the third, utterly unknown. He offered to take me, and show it. ‘All of the literati,’ said he, ‘have been; several members of the Asiatic Society, the famous Sanskrit scholar, Charles Wilkins, &c.; and not one of them can find out the matter of the stone, nor the third inscription. Sir, it pours contempt upon all modern learning, and is a language that is utterly lost. As the Greek inscription shows that it relates to the deification of one of the Ptolemies, it is evidently several hundred years older than the Christian era. However, if you choose, sir, you shall have the privilege of seeing it.’ He seemed to treat me with such a more than quantum sufficit of hauteur [haughtiness of manner], that I really did not wish to lay myself under so much obligation. He then said, ‘If you are conversant in Greek, I can repeat part of the last lines of the inscription to you.’ I bowed, and said nothing. He then began, and interpreted as he went. Among many things he said, ‘ The stone is so hard that no instrument we have can cut it; and the inscription itself points this out, for the decree is that it should be cut on a hard stone.’ — A. C. ‘ Sir, I do not think, whatever quality the stone may be of, that [stereda] here signifies hard. Its ideal and proper meaning is firm; and it probably refers to the local establishment of the stone.’ He was not willing to give up his own opinion, and the interview ended. “On Saturday morning I called upon Mr. Baynes, and found the Doctor had been there again inquiring for me, and wishing me to meet him there at noon, and he would take me to Somerset House The Doctor came at the appointed time, and behaved with less stiffness. We entered the coach. The conversation was chiefly about the stone and its indescribable inscription, with the contempt it poured, and so forth. He talked about Persian, and assured me we had derived many English words from it, and mentioned some. I mentioned others. I soon had the ground to myself. Arrived at Somerset House, I was led to the apartment. Doctor. ‘Here is the curious and ancient stone which Sir Sydney took from General Menou; which he valued so much, that the French Government endeavored to make the restoration of it a part of the treaty.’ I had only begun to look at the stone, when the member who is employed in making out the Greek inscription came in, I suppose by appointment. I viewed it silently for some time. Doctor. ‘ Well, si r, what do you think of it?’ A. C. ‘Why, sir, it is certainly very curious.’ Dr. ‘ What do you think the stone is? Some suppose it to be porphyry, others granite: but none are agreed.’ A. C. ‘ Why, sir, it is neither porphyry nor granite: it is basaltes.’ Dr. ‘Basaltes, think you?’ A. C. ‘Yes, sir; I am certain it is nothing but basaltes, interspersed with mica and quartz. I pledge myself it will strike fire with flint. This produced some conversation, in which the other gentleman took a part; at last my opinion became current. I then measured the stone, and the Doctor took down the dimensions.

Then the unknown inscription came into review. A. C. ‘ This inscription is Coptic, and differs only from the printed Coptic in Wilkins’s Testament, as printed Persian does from manuscript.’

Thus was delivered into their hands a key by which the whole may be made out.”

From the treasures of Sanskrit and Hindoo literature, the Vedas, Shastras, Puranas, and other symbolic books of the old Indian religion, Dr. Clarke enriched his commonplace books with a great variety of remarkable extracts; and especially from the Zend-Avesta and Baghavat-geeta; which were afterward used with advantage in his commentaries on the Scriptures. He made no pretensions to an acquaintance with the original languages of those books, but availed himself of the translations of them which had been so far accomplished at that time by M. Anquetil du Perron, Sir William Jones, Dr. Charles Wilkins, and various writers in the “Asiatic Researches:” though I ought to observe, that subsequently (that is to say, in 1812, as I find by a memorandum of his own) he entered for for himself on the study of sanskrit; and I believe found no small help in pursuing it from the two Indian priests who, as we shall see, were shortly after domiciled a considerable time in his family. But so far back as 1798 he was eagerly employed with the translated works. “I have read over the Ayeen Akbery, and marked a number of curious things. I never met with a better spirit than that of the author. It is a work of great labor and importance, and has more matter in it than fourscore volumes. Will you be so kind as to inquire whether Mr. Wilkins, who translated the Baghavat-geeta, has finished the remainder? If this has been published, get it for me at any price. I have made large gleanings from the Baghavat-geeta; and I think the rest would afford me a copious harvest Do not lose a moment about it.

When I come to John’s Gospel and Epistles, I shall need to consult all the Oriental writings I can procure. It is from them alone that his peculiar phrases can be interpreted. [Query.] Keep your eye about you. May be God may throw in our way an Ayeen Akbery, &c. I have at considerable expense purchased the Zend-Avesta, attributed to Zoroaster, published by M. A. Du Perron.”

And again, in 1799: “I thank you heartily. Before I knew anything of your design, I purposed to write to you concerning the Hedaiyah, but I almost despaired of getting it; because I thought, like the Ayeen Akbery, it was one of those phoenix books which are rarely to be seen. While purposing to write, I was agreeably surprised by the receipt of it. In the customs and manners alluded to in the Scriptures, all these books will be uncommonly useful. In this respect the Ayeen Akbery, Baghavat-geeta, Institutes of Menu, and the Hedaiyah, are invaluable. I have read the three former, and have marked every place that suits my purpose. The Hedaiyah I am now beginning.”

Once more, 1799: “Last week a bookseller came to me from Bath, with a lot of MSS. One is a large thick octavo, a Hindoo and Persian Dictionary: another, a small octavo, is a compilation from the Mahabharata, containing about six hundred pages; another is a very thick folio, containing about fifteen or sixteen hundred pages, and is either the whole or a very large part of the Makdbk,’rata translated from the Sanskrit into Persian. The Mahabharata contains one hundred and sixty thousand couplets in the original, and is the most invaluable work in the East. From it the Geeta was translated by Mr. Wilkins; a work next in dignity and importance to the Bible. [?] He left them with me to look at them, and marked the three for nine guineas, but has since sent me word that he must have four more. Mr.

Stock, who saw the MSS. the evening they came, begged to purchase the great folio for his friend, A. C. Now, do you think I should give the 4. 4s. more than he asked me? Mr. Fox will be glad to have the other. If I s end them back, I shall lose the Mahabharata; and this I should not like, as it comes to me in a providential way.”

But, while making these wide excursions into the regions of foreign philology, Dr. Clarke was not unmindful of the claims of his own mothertongue.

A fervent admirer of the English language, he made himself master of its vast capabilities, by an intimate acquaintance with its structure, and with the sources of those various elements of which it is composed. He had carefully read the homely fathers of our English theology and history in their own Anglo-Saxon; and this, together with his knowledge of the Semitic and Indo-European tongues, (especially Persian and Sanskrit,) as well as the earlier Continental dialects, enabled him to arrive at the true origines of the English speech, and to explain its peculiar phenomena.

Among his Anglo-Saxon treasures, he set particular value on a manuscript translation of the Bible, of which he has availed himself with advantage in many parts of the Commentary.

CHAPTER 9

THE STUDENT — CONTINUED

With a mind devoutly intent on attaining the knowledge of the good, Mr.

Clarke sought it out, not only in the fading pages of human literature, but in the enduring registries traced by the Creator Himself on the immeasurable universe. For science, truly so called, he cherished an instinctive and ever-growing love. He believed with St. Paul, that “the invisible things of God from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and divinity:” their immenseness showing His omnipotence; their vast variety and fitnesses, His omniscience and love; and their preservation, the reign of His everlasting providence. So that, as he expresses it in his notes on the first chapter to the Romans, “Creation and Providence form a twofold demonstration of God.” In those, too, on the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, he enters more largely on this subject, and condenses the rich results of broad and deep investigation.

From a child he had been moved by that “desire” which the inspired moralist speaks of as impelling one who feels it to “separate himself”’ that he may “intermeddle with all knowledge.” “I was always,” said he, “a curious lad, and extremely inquisitive. If a stone was thrown up into the air, I wished to know why it came down with a greater force than it ascended; why some bodies were hard, and others soft; and what it was that united various bodies. I was intent in gazing at the stars, and in singling out one from another. I obtained the loan of an old spyglass; and with it, often without hat, and bare-legged, I sallied out on a clear frosty night to make observations on the moon and stars. Since that period I have been constantly learning, and still know but little either of heaven or earth.”

In those boyish days, in common with many who have to do with rural work, the atmosphere claimed a good deal of his attention; and, from incessant observation, he became a practical meteorologist. In a paper in the “Wesleyan Magazine” for 1824, entitled “A Fair and Foul Weather Prognosticator,” he takes occasion to revert to those juvenile lessons received in the school of nature: — “I do not remember the time in which I was unconcerned about the changes of the weather. From my childhood I was bred up on a little farm, which I was taught to care for ever since I was able to spring the rattle, use the whip, manage the sickle, or handle the spade: and, as I found that much of success depended on a proper knowledge of the weather, I was led to study it from eight years of age.

Meteorology is a natural science, and one of the first to be studied. Every child in the country makes, untaught, some progress in it. I had learned by silent observation to form good conjectures about the coming weather, and on this head to teach wisdom among them that were perfect, but who had not been obliged, like me, to watch earnestly that what was so necessary to the family-support should not be spoiled by the weather before it was housed. Many a time, even in tender youth, have I watched the heavens with anxiety, examined the different appearances of the morning and evening sun, the phases of the moon, the scintillation of the stars, the course and color of the clouds, the flight of the crow and the swallow, the gambols of the colt, the fluttering of the ducks, and the loud screams of the sea-mews; not forgetting even the hue and croaking of the frog. From the little knowledge derived from close observation, I often ventured to direct our agricultural operations in reference to the coming days, and was seldom much mistaken in the reckoning.”

This weather-wise philosopher of the fields — who is so restless to know the great secret of nature that he must needs sally forth bare-headed, with naked feet, into the silent night, to send his questions to the moon and stars — grew up into adolescence in the same mind, and may next be seen bending a face which religion had now lit with a solemn intelligence over the pages of Derham and Ray. “As he was told by the highest authority that ‘the heavens declare the glory of God,’ and as mere inspection filled him with wonder without giving him the information he wanted, he wished to gain some acquaintance with astronomy About this time a friend lent him that incomparable work of Dr. Derham, the ‘Astro-Theology,’ which he read in union with the Bible at all spare times of day and night. Ray’s ‘ Wisdom of God in the Creation’ gave him still more knowledge, and directed him to the study of natural philosophy. All these things were the means of establishing his soul in the thorough belief of the truth; so that his faith stood not in the wisdom of man, but in the power of God.” In his novitiate in the ministry, he read whatever he could get, in the department of natural science, with a never-flagging relish. Down in Cornwall, in addition to some chemical works, he had the use of a medical gentleman’s laboratory; and at Plymouth he obtained from a naval friend a copy of Chambers’s Encyclopedia, with which, “a library in itself”’ he spent almost every spare half-hour. Here his philosophical taste was gratified, and knowledge gained apace. Of Chambers he never spoke without commendation.

But these were only beginnings of wisdom, first steps in a pathway which became more sunlit as he advanced, led up from nature to nature’s God. In the Channel Islands he read many scientific books; and at Trinity College, Dublin, had the opportunity of attending the courses on Chemistry and Anatomy. At the Surrey Institution he found immense delight as well as profit in the lectures and experiments of the professors, who were among the most able men of the day; and with what fruit those advantages were improved appears in his enriched edition of Sturm’s “Reflections on the Works of God,” and the innumerable illustrations of the nature-science of the Bible in his expository writings. Among his own collections in natural history, there was one of minerals, which has been seldom excelled by private persons, including not only the metallic productions, but also some very choice specimens of the precious stones.

We have before intimated that Dr. Clarke had always a yearning for the recondite [abstruse; out of the way; little known] in nature; a disposition which led him to diverge sometimes from the orthodox chemical science of modern times into the now almost forgotten by-paths of the old alchemists. We have seen how, when a mere boy, he tried to master the “Occult Philosophy “ of Cornelius Agrippa. In his earlier itinerant years he tells us that “ he read several alchemistic authors, the perusal of which was recommended to him by a friend who was much devoted to such studies; and he also went through several of the initiatory operations recommended by professed adepts in that science. This study was the means of greatly enlarging his views on the operations of nature, as he saw many wonders performed by chemical agency.” It may surprise the reader that he took pains to wade through Basil Valentine, George Ripley, Philalethes, Nicholas Flammel, Artephius, Geber, Paracelsus, the Hermetical Triumph, all the writers in Ashmole’s Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum, &c.; not with the hope of finding the philosopher’s stone, but rerum cognoscere causas, to see nature in her own laboratory.

Among the few men who have followed such pursuits in modern times, Mr. Clarke became acquainted with one in Dublin, of whom he has left some memoranda too curious not to be transcribed. One Sabbath morning, preaching in Whitefriars’-street chapel on Isaiah 1:25,26, “And I will turn My hand upon thee, and purely purge away thy dross, and take away all thy tin,” &c., he mentioned, by way of explaining the metaphor, the method by which the dross is separated from the silver in the process of refining, and made some observations on the nature and properties of metals, tending to throw light on the subject he was discussing. A gentleman eminent as a man of science was present on that occasion, whose name was Hand; who had for some time been a resolute and unwearied experimentist in the problems of alchemy, — in fact, a serious expectant of finding the grand secret itself. The sermon arrested his attention; and, from the turn of phraseology employed by the preacher, he was sure that in Mr. Clarke he could know a man like-minded with himself’ and one who had traveled on the same track as that which, he believed, might conduct them both to wealth and immortality. He sought an introduction and if, on becoming acquainted with the learned preacher, he did not find a devotee to the mysterious art as thorough as himself’ he nevertheless found one who, as an inquirer into the arcana [mystery] of nature, was glad to spend an hour occasionally with him in his laboratory.

The memorandums to which I have referred are two letters from this gentleman to Mr. Clarke, after the latter had removed from Dublin to Manchester. In the first he makes the following remarkable recital: — “The second of November last, came to my house two men: one I thought to be a priest, and yet believe so; the other, a plain, sedatelooking man. They asked for me. As soon as I went to them, the last-mentioned person said he had ‘called to see some of my stained glass, and hoped, as he was curious, I would permit him to call and see me now and then.’ Of course I said, I should be happy.

After much conversation he began to speak of metals and alchemy, asking me if I had ever read any books of that kind (but I believe he well knew I had). After some compliments on my ingenious art, they went away. At twelve o’clock the next day he came himself, without the priest, and told me he had a little matter that would stain glass the very color I wanted, and which I could never get; i. e., a deep blood-red. Said he, ‘If you have a furnace hot, we will do it; for the common fire will not do well.’ I replied, ‘Sir, I have not one hot; but, if you will please to come with me, I will show you my little laboratory, and w ill get one lighted.’ When we came out, he looked about him and said, ‘Sir, do not deceive me: you are an alchemist.’ ‘ Why do you think that, sir?’ ‘Because you have as many foolish vessels as I have seen with many others engaged in that study.’ ‘ I have,’ I answered, ‘worked a long time at it without gain, and should be glad to be better instructed.’ ‘Do you believe the art?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘ Why?’ ‘Because I give credit to many good and pious men.’ He smiled. ‘Will you have this air-furnace lighted?’

I did so: he then asked for a bit of glass, opened a box, and turned aside, laid a little red powder on the glass with a penknife, put the glass with the powder on it into the fire, and when hot took it out, and the glass was like blood! ‘ Have you scales?’ I got them for him, and some lead: he weighed two ounces: he then put four grains of a very white powder in a bit of wax, and, when the lead was melted, put this into it, and then raised the fire for a little while, took it out, and cast it into water: ‘never was finer silver in the world!’ I exclaimed, [uttering also the sacred name,] ‘Sir, you amaze me.’ ‘ Why,’ he replied, ‘do you call upon God? Do you think He has any hand in these things?’ ‘ In all good things, sir,’ I said. ‘Ah, friend, God will never reveal those things to man. Did you ever learn any magic?’ ‘No, sir.’ Get you then -: he will instruct you. But I will lend you a book, and will get you acquainted with a friend that will help you to knowledge. Did you ever see the devil?’ ‘No, sir; and trust I never shall.’ ‘ Would you be afraid? ‘ ‘Yes.’ ‘ Then you need not: he harms no one; he is every ingenious man’s friend. Shall I show you something? ‘Not if it is anything of that kind.’ It is not, sir. Please to get me a glass of clean water.’ I did so. He pulled out a bottle, and dropped a red liquor into it, and said something I did not understand. The water was all in a blaze of fire, and a multitude of little live things like lizards moving about in it. I was in great fear. This he perceived, took the glass, and flung it into the ashes, and all was over. ‘Now, sir,’ said he, ‘if you will enter into a vow with me, as I see you are an ingenious man, I will let you know more than you will ever find out.’ This I declined, being fully convinced it was of the devil; and it is now I know the meaning of ‘coming improperly by the secret.’

After some little time he said he must go, and would call again, when I should think better of his offer. He left me the two ounces of lana.”

From the second letter: “I have not seen the individual. I have used a quarter of an ounce of the silver in my own work, and have sold the remainder for pure silver. The metal was in fusion; and when the powder was put in, which was in size not larger than the head of a lady’s hat-pin, the lead in a moment became like some dried powder or calx: the fire was then raised to melt it again, which was of a heat to melt any silver. In about a quarter of an hour he said, ‘It is in perfect flux.’ He took it out, and cast it into the water, and you never saw finer silver in your life. I have heard too much of the tricks of alchemists, and was too attentive to all that passed, for any man or devil to deceive me in this. [?] “When I mentioned the name of God, he smiled with a kind of contempt. The glass of water was a common tumbler, and he said something as he was putting it in, and looked very sternly at me.

The blaze did not take place the moment he put the red liquid in, but little flashes in the; water, and a strong smell of sulfur, — so much so, that I thought some had fallen into the furnace; but that was not the case. The glass soon became all on fire, like spirits of wine burning; and a number of little creatures became visible, exactly like lizards. Some of, them moved their heads almost to the top of the glass, and I saw them as distinctly as I ever saw anything. He observed me tremble; and I exclaimed, ‘Christ save me!’ On his flinging the water with the lizards under the grate, I looked to see if I could observe them there. He said, ‘They are gone.’ ‘ Where?’ ‘From whence they came.’ ‘Where is that?’ O, you must not know all things at once.’ ‘ Why, sir, I believe this is magic. You could, I have no doubt, raise t he devil, if you liked.’ ‘ Would you be afraid?’ ‘Yes, sir: I hope to be saved from having anything to do with him.’ He replied, ‘You are a very ingenious man, Mr. Hand; and I wish you to be better acquainted with nature, and the things in this curious world, through which I have almost been, and have more knowledge than most I have met with: and yet I know many wonderful men.’ ‘Do you know any person, sir, who has the red stone?’ ‘I do; multitudes.’ ‘I wish I knew some.’ ‘You shall, and the whole secret.’ ‘Sir, you are very good.’ ‘But you must know that we are all linked, like a chain; and you must go under a particular ceremony, and a vow.’ ‘I will vow to God, sir,’ I replied, ‘that I will never divulge ‘ — Here he stopped me, and said, I was ‘going beyond the question,’ and appeared vexed. He said the vow must be made before another, and [added] with an angry tone, ‘It is no matter to you whether it be before God or the devil, if you get the art.’ “Then, indeed, my dear friend, I saw almost into his inmost soul. I grew all on fire, and said, ‘I will never receive anything, not even the riches of the world, but from God alone.’ ‘O, sir,’ he replied, ‘you seem to be angry with me: my intention was to serve you.

You are not acquainted with me, or you would rather embrace than offend me.’ “Much more conversation passed. He spoke of _____, and many other such books, and said he would lend me one. After some time he added, he would leave me to reflect on the subject, and he would call again. He had told me that there was but one way on earth of knowing the transmutation of metals; and of that, he said, I knew nothing. “You did not tell me if Mr. _____ is still in Manchester. I wonder he would not acknowledge to you that he had the art, and how. If he is still in Manchester, tell him of a distressed brother, and perhaps he will give me light.”

From the third letter: “Since I wrote to you last, I have seen the mail. I said, ‘How do you do, sir?’ He replied, ‘Sir, I have not the honor of knowing you.’ ‘Do you not remember,’ said I, ‘the person who stains glass, and to whom you were so kind as to show some experiments?’ ‘No, sir; you are mistaken,’and he turned red in the face. ‘Sir,’ I answered, ‘if I am mistaken, I beg your pardon for telling you that I was never right in anything in my life, and never shall be.’ ‘Sir, you are mistaken, and I wish you good morning.’ he several times turned round to look after me; but, be assured, I never saw a man if that one was not the one who was with me. I intend to inquire and find him, or who he is: of this I am determined. “I am at work again, and building a digesting-furnace, exactly after Philalethes, with a tower to contain charcoal sufficient to last twenty-four hours. I will have it to give any degree of heat I please.

So, you see, I cannot have done; nor will I, while I have even a little to enable me to proceed. I spend nothing in any other amusement, so that I may do something at this; that, if God pleases, I may have a little to spare to do good with.”

Mr. Clarke, in his correspondence with this honest enthusiast, did not forget to urge upon him the necessity of obtaining the true riches, “than gold and pearls more precious far,” and of seeking that wondrous transmutation of mind and heart which no power can effect but the grace of the Eternal Spirit. He warned him against the inordinate desire of wealth; and exhorted him, in a diligent attendance on the house of God, the reading of His word, and the communion of His people in class-meeting, to work out his salvation. Mr. Hand died in peace, somewhat suddenly.

There was good reason to believe that his acquaintance with Mr. Clarke had led him to that “secret of the Lord,” that “knowledge of the Holy,” which is the true elixir of immortal life, the key to treasures incorruptible.

These aerial excursions into the cloud-land of alchemy only gave Mr.

Clarke a greater value for a standing on the solid ground of true science. He was disposed to look with a suspicious eye upon whatever was wanting in demonstrative evidence; and, on that account, he never heartily concurred with the doctrines of what was then the new school of the geologists. It should be remembered, however, that geology was then, as a science, only in an inchoate [rudimentary] (not to say, a chaotic) state; and, moreover, that infidelity, though foiled in the attempt, had endeavored to make an instrument of it for the promotion of its own injurious ends. Dr. Clarke was only one of many good and learned men who, on those grounds, set their faces against what they considered a newfangled, fantastic, and mischievous delusion. But we are bold to affirm, that, and he lived to our days, (in which the true science of geology has emerged from its inceptive confusion, has shaken itself free from these skeptical tendencies, and, instead of becoming the adversary of the Bible, has proved itself rather a confirming witness of its truth, and an interpreter of its words,) he would have regarded it with very different sentiments.

It was an axiom with him, that “speculative TRUTH can never be alien from practical wisdom.” He held that all knowledge is valuable, and that a minister of the Gospel may find a use for every species of information.

Thus, when a young preacher once asked him whether he would advise him to study mineralogy, he promptly replied, “By all means: a Methodist preacher should know everything. Partial knowledge, on any branch of science or business, is better than total ignorance. To have a variety of subjects of study will, instead of exhausting the mind, minister to its invigoration; for, when wearied with one, the surest means of refreshment is to have recourse to another.” “The old adage of ‘ Too many irons in the fire,’ “ said he, “contains an abominable lie. You cannot have too many — poker, tongs, and all, keep them all going!”

Dr. Clarke’s learning was subservient to one design, — to know God, and to make Him known. He carried the spirit of the theologian into all his inquiries, and it was as a divine that he reached his highest glory. In the direct study of theology, his main book was the Bible. That with him was the fons et origo of all religious truth. All his reading had a bearing upon the elucidation of the Scriptures. His immense library, amounting at last to about ten thousand volumes, and a large collection of ancient and Oriental manuscripts, formed (as we may say) one vast commentary on the sacred book. In this large collection of works, it is remarkable that the writings of the Puritans, English sermon-writers, and English divines in general, formed a comparatively inconsiderable part. In fact, he did not read much in that line. He felt that to understand, believe, and live the Bible, insured him an endless supply of reflection and sentiment which made him independent of them all. He liked Baxter and Howe, and a few more, but never leaned upon them. As to Dr. Owen, sometimes called “the prince of English theologians,” he estimated him in some respects very cheaply. In one of his letters to Hugh Stuart Boyd he gives his opinion of Owen, which some readers may wish to see: — “Now about Owen. — 1. He was a good SCHOLAR. 2. A rigid Calvinist. 3. A very good man. 4. A voluminous writer. 5. A very indifferent critic.

But in this he was excusable, because the ars critica was in his time in its cradle. The morality of the Gospel was sacred with him. He saw and bewailed the antinomianism that was spreading in his day, and wrote strongly against it. As a writer, I know him chiefly from the Considerations on the Polyglot, and his voluminous comment on the Hebrews. To some I should seem a heretic, were I to pronounce these writings clumsy, inelegant, obscure, and overwhelmed with verbiage. He sometimes spends forty pages to explain what even in his own way might be dispatched in as many lines. His sense and meaning he drowns in a world of words. To me he is one of the most unsatisfactory writers. As to his book on the Hebrews, I would rather a hundred times do my work myself’ than watch him going a hundred miles about, in order to come back to the next door. I should think it is impossible for such a man to write clearly on any subject. He cannot condense his meaning, and never comes to the point, but by the most intolerable circumlocution I have heard a good character of his work on the Holy Spirit; but I am so completely sick with wading through his Hebrews, that I shall never have courage to encounter him again. He attempted to answer John Goodwin’s ‘Redemption Redeemed;’ but, from what I have seen of this, he is like a mouse under the paws of a lion. Goodwin was a thorough logician, and there were no odds and ends about his mind. I do not, however, search any of their works for information on the great doctrines of the Gospel.

Where we agree, I find they can add nothing to me; and I have defended and proved the same truths by modes of reasoning of which they appear to have never thought I do not find in the whole universe of writing, from the earliest fathers down to the lowest Puritans, so clear, consistent, and comprehensive a view of the great doctrines of salvation as that held and taught by the Methodists.”

On the other hand, in pat