His lucky hand made everything a flower.
On earth the king of wits, (they are but few,)
And, though a bishop, yet a preacher too.”
Samuel Wesley was ordained a priest of the Church of England, by Dr Compton, in St Andrew’s Church, Holborn, on February 24, 1689. This was twelve days after the Prince and Princess of Orange were declared by parliament to be King and Queen of Great Britain.
Compton was a man even more remarkable than Sprat. He was the youngest son of Spencer, Earl of Northampton. On leaving the university, he went to the Continent, for the purpose of perfecting himself in the modern languages. After the restoration of Charles II., he became cornet of a regiment of horse; but soon resigned his commission, and devoted himself to the service of the church. He successively became Canon-commoner of Christ-Church College, Rector of Cottenham, Master of St Crosse’s Hospital, Canon of Christ-Church, Bishop of Oxford, Dean of the Royal Chapel, and finally Bishop of the diocese of London. He was intrusted with the education of the two princesses, Mary and Anne, whom he also afterwards married to the Princes of Orange and Denmark; and their firmness in the Protestant religion was in a great measure owing to his instructions. For his steadfast opposition to Popery, and for refusing to become an instrument of ecclesiastical tyranny among the clergy of his diocese, he was suspended, by James II., from his Episcopal office, his name was struck from the list of the Privy Council, and he was deprived of his office as Dean of the Royal Chapel. His suspension was the reason why Samuel Wesley was ordained a deacon by the chameleon-like Dr Sprat. On the invasion of the Prince of Orange, he was restored to his Episcopal functions; he performed the ceremony of crowning King William and Queen Mary; was appointed one of the Commissioners for revising the Liturgy; and laboured with much zeal to reconcile Dissenters to the Established Church. His spirit of moderation made him unpopular with the clergy, and, in all probability, checked his further promotion. He died in the same year as Bishop Sprat, at the age of eighty-one. Through the whole of a long life, he was exemplary in his moral conduct, and displayed the manners of a gentleman. He was a warm friend, a generous patron, a respectable writer, a faithful bishop, but a dull and inanimate preacher. Such were the two prelates who ordained Samuel Wesley.
At the time that Mr Wesley entered upon his ministerial career, there were, in the English Church, some of the most distinguished divines that it has ever had. There was Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, a prelate of great learning and piety, and whose “Origines Sacræ” and “Origines Britannicæ” are still held in high esteem. There was Tillotson, the son of a Yorkshire clothier, who was raised to the see of Canterbury, and whose sermons, when published, were regarded as a standard of finished oratory, and still rank among the most popular in the English language. There was the godly Thomas Kenn, Bishop of Bath and Wells, the well-known author of the “Morning and Evening Hymns.” There was William Sancroft, who took an active part in repairing St Paul’s Cathedral after the dilapidations of the civil wars, and in rebuilding it after the great fire of London; one of the seven bishops, who, for bearding King James II., was committed to the Tower; and who, for refusing the oath of allegiance to King William, lost his archbishopric; a timorous, but well-meaning man, laborious in his studies, and who is said to have written more with his own hand than any other person of his time. There was Robert South, a man of immense talents, though of harsh temper and ungoverned wit. There was Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, a most industrious writer, and author of the “History of the Reformation.” There was John Sharp, Archbishop of York, an able preacher, and the author of seven volumes of valuable sermons. There was Thomas Tennison, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had the esteem of King James, attended Queen Mary during her last moments, faithfully reproved King William for his immoral practices, and officiated at the coronation of Queen Anne and of King George I.,—an able opponent of the infidel opinions of Hobbes; a defender of the Established Church against Popery; though not a brilliant, yet a clear and argumentative writer; and though a plain yet a forcible preacher. There was William Beveridge, Bishop of St Asaph, an eminent Oriental scholar, a distinguished theologian, and a man of great goodness and simplicity. There was White Kennett, a man of great literary labours, his judgment solid, his style easy, and who died Bishop of the diocese of Peterborough. There was Daniel Whitby, profoundly learned, who, in 1703, published in two volumes folio his able “Commentary on the New Testament,” the result of fifteen years of close application. There was George Hooper, Bishop of Bath and Wells, and greatly distinguished both as a writer and divine. William Fleetwood, Bishop of Ely, an active prelate, an eloquent preacher, and a learned, industrious, and able writer. William Derham, the able author of “Physico-Theology.” William Lowth, amiable and erudite, and the father of the bishop of that name. Thomas Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man, a man of respectable scientific and classical attainments, but distinguished most for his Christian benevolence. Others might be mentioned, and, besides these, a large number of other clergy, who, though not so eminent for their learning and literary productions, were quite equal for unassuming and zealous piety.
It is scarce credible that, with such bishops at the head of the English Church, there should not be hundreds of quiet, godly, earnest, useful ministers, acting under them, all of them of the same sterling character as Samuel Wesley. It is a great mistake to imagine that, up to the time of Samuel Wesley’s sons, John and Charles, the English clergy were, almost without exception, ignorant, indolent, heterodox, worldly, and wicked. Doubtless there were a large number of such men; but there were likewise a large number of another and much better class.
At the same period, the Dissenters also had a considerable number of able and useful preachers. For example, there was Daniel Williams, the most influential Presbyterian minister of his day; the successor of Richard Baxter at Pinner’s Hall, the author of six volumes of cumbrous controversy, and the founder of the magnificent library of Red Cross Street. There was Daniel Burgess, extremely popular on account of his quaint and familiar style of pulpit oratory. There was Benjamin Keach, once sentenced to stand in the pillory for publishing his “Child’s Instructor,” and whose “Travels of True Godliness” and “Scripture Metaphors” have been read by myriads; a man whom Dunton represents as mounted upon an Apocalyptic Beast, with Babylon before him, Zion behind him, and a hundred thousand bulls and bears roaring and ramping round about him. There was Vincent Alsop, a man of piety and worth, with a glowing fancy and a lively wit. There was Matthew Henry, whose labours as a preacher were almost incessant, and who yet found time to write one of the largest and most useful Expositions of the Holy Bible ever published. There was Matthew Sylvester, a man of “godly life and great ability in the ministerial work,” to whom, as an intimate friend, Baxter left his “MS. Narrative of his Life and Times.” And there were also still surviving not a few of the noble Nonconformist ministers ejected in 1662.
As Samuel Wesley was not only a Christian minister, but likewise an author of considerable eminence, this attempt at photographing portraits will scarce be perfect, without a passing glance at the literary and other celebrities, who were flourishing at the time of Wesley’s ordination, and with some of whom he ran a literary race.
Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, was just rising into fame and power, and preparing the way for the high position which he occupied during the reign of Anne. John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, was just appointed commander-in-chief of the British forces. George Byng, the celebrated admiral, was beginning to display the bravery and the naval skill for which he is still remembered. John Radcliffe, the renowned physician, had recently removed to London, where he received from King William, during the first six years of his reign, nearly eight thousand guineas for his professional assistance. Isaac Newton, the unrivalled philosopher, was just elected one of the representatives of the Cambridge University. Sir Hans Sloane was bringing home eight hundred species of plants from the West Indies. Richard Bentley, the son of a Yorkshire blacksmith, had just removed with his pupil, Stillingfleet’s son, to the Oxford University, having already evinced his amazing powers as a scholar and a critic. Matthew Prior was writing his poem on the Deity. Jonathan Swift, having lost his uncle, and being almost penniless, was applying, by the advice of his mother, to the celebrated Sir William Temple to afford him shelter, and to find him bread. William Penn was writing his prolix “Maxims and Reflections on Human Life.” Sir Godfrey Kneller, with King James before him, was painting a portrait of that monarch at the very moment when the landing of Prince William was announced. Grinling Gibbons, whom Evelyn considers the greatest of all sculptors, was at the zenith of his fame. Sir Christopher Wren was building St Paul’s Cathedral. Dryden, deprived of his official emoluments by the abdication of King James, was now writing for bread, and producing some of the finest pieces he ever published. John Locke, whom Dr Watts describes as having a soul wide as the sea, calm as the night, and bright as the day, was finishing his immortal “Essay on the Human Understanding.” And Robert Boyle, not unworthy to be ranked with Lord Bacon, acquainted with the whole compass of mathematical sciences, and from whose works may be deduced the whole system of natural knowledge, was, as usual, regulating, by a thermometer, the quantity of clothes he ought to wear.