Again,—“April 14, 1751. My health is so very precarious, and my constitution so enervated, that, I scarce ever am able, and am always unfit, to wait upon your ladyship. I have often found pleasure in visiting the poor tenants of the meanest hut, where I had an opportunity of talking on heavenly things. How much more should I be delighted, in an admission to your ladyship’s company, where I should hear the same favourite topics discoursed on, with all the refinements of politeness and superior sense! But extreme weakness, and great languor, disqualify me for the enjoyment of this satisfaction.”
Again,—“My poor heart, that is naturally fond of activity, and would fain exert itself for the blessed Redeemer’s glory,—that is peculiarly charmed with the works of creation, and knows no higher entertainment than a contemplative rural excursion,—is sometimes apt to repine at being cut off from its favourite gratifications. But I desire to check such unsubmissive emotions; and rest satisfied, that, whatever the all-gracious God ordains, is incomparably better than I could choose for myself. Let the voice of murmuring, therefore, be entirely suppressed. Let the praises of God be upon my tongue, and let all that is within me bless His holy name.”
Again,—“September 23, 1751. Though my hand is able to hold a pen, my feet are not able to carry me across the room, without some borrowed support. I have been extremely ill: hovering upon the very brink of eternity. The doctor was twice sent for, by a special messenger, from an apprehension, that, my dissolution was approaching. You will probably be desirous to know how my mind was affected, amidst such circumstances of peril and pain. I humbly bless the Divine goodness, I was under no terrifying fears with regard to death. It was desirable, rather than dreadful; the thing I longed for, rather than deprecated. You are pleased to ask, What I am going to publish? I was writing a little Treatise[193] upon some of the most important doctrines of Christianity: to be disposed partly into dialogues, partly into letters; and rendered entertaining by several descriptive pictures in nature and its ever-pleasing scenes. I have sketched out the greatest part, in a rough un-connected manner; but a considerable time will be requisite, to dispose it properly, and polish it for the nice taste of the present age. This time, whether it will please the Sovereign Disposer of all things to allow; or whether my constitution, always very inferior, but now more exceedingly enervated, will yield a sufficient supply of animal strength,—is a great uncertainty. But of this, my lady, we are absolutely certain, that, whatever is ordered, by unerring wisdom and infinite mercy, must be good,—must be best.”
One cannot but experience a feeling of surprise, that, a man in such physical debility was able to evince such activity of mind. Hervey could not be idle. To have been totally unemployed would not have retarded, but probably have hastened his decease. To some men, at least, a certain amount of work is a solace. It braces the mind; and enables the sufferer to better bear the afflictions of the body. So it was with Hervey. In the house of his brother, he had a comfortable home; and his father and friends were able and willing to afford him all the help he needed. No man was more free from the love of money. His wants were few, and his earthly longings were quite as limited. He had no need to work; but work was what he liked. His brain teemed with thought; and it was no inconsiderable relief to put some of his conceptions and conceits on paper. Besides, as he himself was wont to solicit the critical kindness of his friends, in the revision of his writings; so he sometimes rendered the same assistance to others. The following was written to the Rev. Mr. Pearsall, of Taunton, and is somewhat amusing as coming from one of the most florid writers of the period,—
“May 29, 1751.
“Rev. and dear Sir,—Give me leave to return my best thanks for your obliging letters and very valuable manuscripts: those, I mean, which you were so kind as to transmit for my use. I look upon them as a detachment of auxiliary forces, seconding and supporting a feeble attempt to oppose the enemies, and to spread the conquests, of Free Grace. I wish they had fallen into abler hands: for mine, weak, always weak by nature, are now enervated to the last degree by sickness. For several hours, I have been unable to take up my pen; and could only endeavour, by resting myself in some easy posture, to sustain a being, whose strength is become labour and sorrow.
“I now return, after a long delay, your truly pleasing and profitable letters. I have read them with singular pleasure; and, I hope, with some improvement. Many parts I perused several times; and the warm piety, garnished by an elegant fancy, made them as delightful as if they were new. I cannot pretend to the merit of doing your compositions any service; unless it be in this one circumstance, that, I have detained them from you for a considerable time; by which means, they will be, in a manner, new to your own eye: and you will be much more capable of judging maturely, concerning each sentiment, and every expression.
“One thing, in general, let me remark: That, my worthy friend’s genius is too rich; his invention quite luxuriant. He must use the pruning knife, and cut off several of the shoots. Yes, though they are perfectly beautiful, they must be sacrificed; that, the fruit may acquire the finer flavour. There is a certain prettiness in some periods, that betrays us all into an ill-judged redundancy; which, though its neatness should secure it from being tiresome, yet, weakens the force of the principal thought.
“I wish you would introduce some suitable descriptions to beautify the last letters. As they all turn upon the same subject, and have no pieces of entertaining scenery to enliven them, I fear, they will read a little flat and heavy; especially when compared with the preceding ornamented pages.