Reader expect no more to make him known
Vain the fond Elegy and figur’d Stone,
A name more lasting shall his Writings give;
There view displayed his heavenly Soul, and live.
Such are the lines on the tomb of the author of the “Meditations among the Tombs; Reflections on a Flower Garden; and Contemplations on the Night, and on the Starry Heavens.” He was buried under the middle of the communion-table in the chancel: when his body was conveyed to the church it was covered, according to his express desire, with the poor’s pall. He was the most popular rector of Weston Favell, of which living he was the patron and incumbent, as his father had been. Hervey was not born in that parish, but in the neighbouring one of Hardingston.
Hervey’s Birth-Place at Hardingston.
In this house (the [representation] of which is derived from Mr. Cole’s History of Weston Favell) the author of the “Meditations” first saw light. He was instructed by his mother in reading till the age of seven, and then sent to the free grammar-school at Northampton, where he remained till seventeen, at which age his father placed him at Lincoln college, Oxford, and there he resided seven years, and gained an exhibition of twenty pounds. In 1736 he returned to his father, who was then rector of Weston Favell, and became his curate. In May, 1737, he succeeded the celebrated George Whitefield in the curacy of Dummer, Hampshire, and in about a twelvemonth removed to Stoke Abbey, Devon, where he lived with his friend, Mr. Orchard, upwards of two years. In 1739 he accepted the curacy of Bideford, which he retained till his final settlement at Weston Favell, where he
To ampler plenitude and sweeter days
Proceeded hourly.
It was in Hervey’s native parish, Hardingston, that the battle of Northampton was fought on the 10th of July, 1460, and king Henry VI. taken prisoner by the earl of Warwick: the duke of Buckingham, the earl of Shrewsbury, and other noblemen were killed: and many of the slain were buried in the convent of Delapre, and at St. John’s hospital, Northampton. In Hardingston parish is a military work, supposed to have been raised by the Danes, and therefore called the Danes’ camp.
The wake of Weston Favell is held on the next Sunday after St. Peter’s day. In the afternoon the rector preaches an appropriate sermon, the choristers prepare suitable psalms, and throngs of visitants from the neighbouring villages attend the service in the church. During the first three or four days of the feast-week there are dances at the inns, with games at bowls and quoits, and throughout the week there are dinner and tea-parties from the environs, whose meetings usually conclude with a ball. On St. Valentine’s day the village lads and lasses assemble, and go round with a wish of “Good morrow, morrow, Valentine!” to the principal inhabitants, who give money to the juvenile minstrels. On Shrove Tuesday, at noon, it is the custom to ring one of the church-bells, called the “Pancake bell;” its sound intimates a holiday and allowance of sport to the village youngsters. The fifth of November is jovially celebrated with a bonfire, which may be viewed throughout a circuit of many miles. Christmas is kept merrily, but the ancient usages of the season have passed away, except the singing by the church-choir, of whose carols Mr. Cole produces three, “which may serve,” he says, “as an addition to Mr. Gilbert’s collection.”
In this “history” there is an engraving of two “figures on bricks, near the pulpit:” the other engravings are from a former work by Mr. Cole, entitled “Herveiana,” (2 vols. foolscap 8vo. 1822,) wherein is collected a large number of particulars concerning Hervey from various sources. The latter work enumerates from Hervey’s “Theron and Aspasio,” the plants of the parish, and agreeably describes the common but beautiful plant, called Cuckoo-pint, or Wake Robin, which abounds under the hedge-rows. It is spoken of by its scientific name: “Arum—a wild herb, which unfolds but one leaf, formed after a very singular pattern, bearing some resemblance to the hare’s ear. It is really one of the prettiest fancies in Nature’s wardrobe, and is so much admired by the country-people, that they have dignified it with the appellation of lords and ladies; because it looks, I suppose, somewhat like a person of quality, sitting with an air of ease and dignity in his open sedan. In autumn, after both flowers have vanished, a spike of scarlet berries, on a simple stalk, is all that remains.”