He could not even leave to Mrs. Elizabeth Montague of the ‘Blue-Stocking Club’ notoriety, her championship and patronage of the poor little climbing boys—and he fired off a pamphlet on ‘The State of Chimney-Sweepers’ young Apprentices, &c.’ These poor little friendless mortals excited his pity, and his first efforts in their behalf were to get them regularly bound apprentices, so as to bring them under the cognizance of the magistracy; he advocated and inaugurated a subscription to defray the expense, and supply them with clothes. And this movement was attended with considerable success, for many boys were bound apprentices, and some of the masters were prosecuted for cruelty to their boys.
Then, to show the diversity of his talents, he wrote two pamphlets on bread, and a book in two volumes on ‘Virtue in humble life, &c.’ In 1775 he published a large quarto volume on ‘The Defects of Police, the Causes of Immorality, &c.,’ and in the copy which I have before me, is written, ‘To the King, with the Author’s most humble Duty.’ In this book, among other things, he advocated solitary, or rather isolated confinement—permitting the prisoners to work, and giving them an increased dietary according to their labour, This was followed in 1776 by a pamphlet on ‘Solitude in Imprisonment, with proper labour, &c.’
He was now sixty-four years of age, but he was as bodily active as he was mentally, and in February, 1776, he had to go over to Hamburg in connection with his duties as one of the commissioners of the Victualling Board. In 1777, 1778, and 1782, he wrote three books on the Lord’s Supper—and from that time he wrote, until he died in 1786, on all sorts of subjects, religious, social, and political, a list of which would only be wearisome. In the summer of 1786 his health gave way, and he was evidently sinking, but he lingered until the 5th of September, when he calmly passed away—perfectly prepared for the great change, putting on a fine ruffled shirt, giving up his keys, disposing of some trinkets, and having his will read to him. Death came easily to him, and he expired with the word ‘Christ’ upon his lips.
Such was the life, and such was the death, of Jonas Hanway, whose biography is not half well enough known.
A HOLY VOYAGE TO RAMSGATE A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.
This little story, which I very much condense, is most amusing, and is the work of ‘Henry Blaine, Minister of the Gospel at Tring, Herts.’ I only give it as showing the dread with which any country-bred man, at that time, put his precious body at the mercy of Father Neptune. Steam has changed all our habits, but then there were no ‘Globe Trotters,’—few, if any, climbed the Alps for amusement; the Dolomites were unknown; people had no steam-yachts and went in pursuit of perpetual summer; a cruise to the Pacific Islands and Japan was never dreamt of; there was no Mudie’s library to scatter broadcast holiday tours, for they never existed—so that we must look upon this relation of an inland-bred ‘Minister of the Gospel’ (whose long and extremely pious, but wearisome, exordia I omit) with very different eyes, to a similar one published in the present day.
It is a tract of fifty-four pages, and commences, ‘In hopes of recovering that invaluable blessing, health, on Friday, August 10, 1787, I embarked on board the ship Friends bound for Ramsgate, in Kent. I had heard there was such a place; and many had raised my expectations by their reports of the efficacy of sea-bathing; and others encouraged my hopes by repeating their own experience of benefit received. By these means I was induced to determine on this little voyage. It reminded me of the never-to-be-forgotten season, when, urged by some motives, and impelled by a power unseen, but not unfelt, I entered on board that stately vessel which the Lord’s prophet saw in a storm. Isaiah 54.—11.’
This is a sample of the tract. He then goes on to say: ‘While we waited for the time of sailing (for different purposes, I suppose), many came on board, and appeared, to me at least, as if they intended to embark with us: but they left not the harbour, but, urged by other occasions and inducements, they took leave of their friends and departed; while we, who were bound for a distant place, kept steady to our purpose, turned our backs upon home and waited patiently for the gentle breeze and driving tide to convey us to the desired port.’