“Indeed, madam, if it be a sermon, the Bath finery has furnished me with a text.
“And why, good madam, should not the world expect such sermon-like epistles from us ministers? Why will not they let us be comformable to ourselves, and act in character? Would you not expect to hear of engagements and victories from a soldier just come from making a campaign? Would any one be surprised to find a merchant discoursing of foreign affairs, or canvassing the state of trade? Nay, is it not allowable even for our tailor and milliner to talk of the newest fashions and most modish colour? Why, then, should not the agents for the court of heaven treat of heavenly things? Why should not their whole conversation savour of their calling? Why should they be one thing when they bend the knee, and another when they put pen to paper? Why act one part when they speak from the pulpit, and quite a different one when they converse in the parlour? To say the truth, madam, if you do not allow me this liberty, I may pretend, indeed, but can never act the grateful, the affectionate, the faithful, humble servant.”
The following is an extract from an enormously long letter, of eighteen printed pages, addressed to a clergyman, who had been preaching in the Abbey Church.
“Bath, August 27, 1743.
“Reverend Sir,—Sunday last, I happened not to be at the Abbey Church in the afternoon; but, conversing with a gentleman who was one of your auditors, I desired to have a summary account of your sermon. And, truly, he gave me such an account as both astonished and grieved me. You dignified worldly prosperity at so extraordinary a rate, and almost canonized the prosperous man. On the other hand, you vilified the glorious Jesus in so scandalous a manner, and set the Incarnate Godhead to one of the most ignoble and abominable offices. This made me encourage my friend to send you a word of admonition; and, when he declined, I could not forbear undertaking it myself. For, it would be unkind to you, sir, to perceive you under such grievous mistakes, and not to warn you of the error of your ways. Nor would it be less unfaithful to your Master, and my Master, to be informed of such preaching, and suffer it to pass current, without any animadversion.
“I understand, you first exhorted people to rejoice, when their circumstances were affluent and their worldly affairs prosperous. You enforced this palatable advice by the precepts of Scripture; and, lest it should not be received with a proper welcome, you further urged it on your hearers by the example of our blessed Saviour.
“In opposition to this strain of teaching, permit me to observe, 1. That, worldly prosperity is no sufficient cause for a Christian to rejoice. 2. That, it is often one of the sorest evils that can befal a person. And 3. Allow me to sketch out the true nature of spiritual prosperity; or discover what is that solid ground for rejoicing, which the oracles of God recommend.”
These were the three points explained and enforced in Hervey’s pungent and scorching letter, sent to the clerical sycophant, who, because the sinners, in his crowded church, were fashionable ones, imitated, not the honest Baptist of Scripture history, but the dangerous Syren of ancient mythology, and flattered the rich and elegantly dressed “children of wrath” who sat before him, instead of reproving their sins, and proclaiming their danger. Hervey was still young in years; but the unfaithful preacher deserved all he got.
This was not the only rebuke which Hervey administered during his brief residence in the gay city of the west. At this period, Bath was, perhaps, the most fashionable place in Great Britain; and the most renowned man in Bath was Richard, commonly called “Beau,” Nash. Four years before, this accomplished rake had endeavoured to prevent Wesley preaching in the city where, by a sort of general consent, he acted as the king of all the fops and fashionables there assembled; but Nash was not a match for the poor, persecuted Methodist; and, smarting from Wesley’s keen retort, and stung by an old woman’s taunts, was glad to sneak away from a scene of conflict of his own creating. Beau Nash was still in power; and now young Hervey addressed to him the following faithful, and caustic letter,—