On the Doctor's return to England, he was soon in full employment in his study, in his regular pulpit labors, and in preaching occasional sermons. Some of his extra work lay at Chelsea, Stafford, Bruerton, Loughborough, and Manchester; at the former place, he collected £88. for the chapel; and at the latter, £150. for the schools, which removed a heavy debt. He had preached on the Friday evening, Saturday evening, Sunday and Wednesday previously to his occupying the pulpit at Manchester, and was unusually indisposed through constipation of the bowels. He entered minutely into his case to the writer, and stated, if some change did not take place, it would terminate seriously. He then proceeded: "I had a dream before I left home, and now that I am so much indisposed, I regret that I named it to Mrs. Clarke. It has made a powerful impression on my mind, since the issue of this affliction. I made this journey a matter of earnest prayer, that I might be carried through it. I have as much resolution and fortitude as I ever had; but I find my physical strength failing. I am no great dreamer; nor do I pay much attention to such things: months pass away without my having any distinct knowledge of having dreamt. But one evening, before I left home, I had the singular dream to which I have referred. I dreamt that I had to be offered a sacrifice to God, -- that I was to shed the last drop of my blood -- and that the aperture from which the blood was to flow, was to be through an incision made in the neck by a dagger. I thought I shrunk a little at first from the pain that was occasioned by the incision: nevertheless, as it was God who required my blood -- the blood which he himself had given -- and the sacrifice was necessary, I would freely offer myself to Him. It appeared to me, that I was two distinct persons, -as though the inward Adam (pointing to himself) remained here, looking at the outward Adam laid there, whom I thought I saw distinctly. It is common, as you well know, for persons to be transported in their dreams from place to place; but I have no recollection of an instance in which a person supposed himself two.. The place where the one stood, was a field, or open space, where some roads crossed; one a kind of main way for carts, at the side of which was a foot path or two, worn down by the feet. In this path, thus worn down, I thought I saw myself; or, perhaps, more properly, my other self, stretched at full length. I saw the incision made -- felt no pain -- the blood streamed forth: after it ceased to issue from the wound, some water was brought -- the abdomen was laid open -- and pure water was laved in to wash away the last globule of blood. I still stood, and thought I saw the water recede less and less red -- till all was pure, with a firm persuasion that it was myself; and stood looking on with firmness and composure, till I concluded the sacrifice was complete, -- when I awoke about three o'clock in the morning. On turning myself in bed, I awoke Mrs. Clarke, and said, 'Mary, I have had a singular dream.' She wished me to go to sleep again; but I could not, and so related the dream to her. It has followed me ever since; nor can I interpret it. As I have observed, I pay very little attention to such things: there may, however, be something in it: I have been very poorly; but whether it is to be interpreted from the circumstance of my having made these engagements, to fulfil them as a work of God -- though without full strength, and God is pleased to accept it as a sacrifice, through which I am to be wasted away in it, like gradual weakness, through loss of blood, -- or whether, indeed, any thing is to follow to explain it, -- or whether it is without any personal connection, I know not: but still it follows me, and I wish you to make a memorandum of it -- to preserve it among your papers -- and keep your eye upon it for a key. I trust I shall be able to complete my engagements. If the dream is without indication, it will still be a curious circumstance of a person conceiving himself to be two distinct conscious beings -- seeing himself at a distance, and conscious of a presence from it." Were it right to anticipate, and if it had a meaning, the key would be much better employed at a future period than on the present occasion, -- in a more remote death -- in an internal malady -- worn out -- perfectly sensible -- yet helpless -- a short struggle -- and little pain.
On the Leeds question -- conversation having turned in that direction, the Doctor was very strong, and generally opposed both to the proceedings and decision on the case; stating, that not all the powers on earth could convince him of the propriety of the measures adopted by the President, Secretary, and others, on the occasion. His arguments are here omitted to prevent a revival of the painful feeling attendant on the division. He had, in fact, written an article on the case; but was dissuaded from publishing till after Conference, and then, for the sake of peace, declined employing the press at all.
"The Traveler's Prayer," the origin of which has been noticed, was now published, and excited considerable attention. He received complimentary letters from the Bishops of London, Litchfield, and Coventry; Herbert Marsh, and other dignitaries of the Church of England, on the occasion;  the latter observing, that -- though he had long been accustomed to read, study, and admire the Church Service, he had, in his writings, pointed out beauties in it which he never saw before. He visited the Bishop of London, Doctor Bloomfield, by invitation, and had a general invitation from his lordship to call upon him at Fulham, whenever he could make it convenient. The conversation was frank and general. On leaving the palace, his lordship, who accompanied him to the door, said to him, while standing on the stairs, (quoting the original,) "Seeing that you are such a man, (so much in our interest, and so truly our friend,) I wish you were altogether our own." The Doctor thought the quotation was from Terence, but could not recollect for the moment. He remarked afterwards, when adverting to the circumstance, that Maittaire's work was the best for finding any important sentence in classic authors, when the originals were not at hand, or there was no time to consult them. It was a somewhat singular coincidence, that a clergyman, closely connected with the Archbishop of Canterbury, should, in a complimentary letter to the Doctor, have quoted the same Latin sentence, without the least possibility of his having become acquainted with the Bishop of London's address. In one of the letters received, it was stated, -- "Your countenance, Doctor Clarke, of the Church of England, is of great importance to us." He remarked, afterwards, on this also, with a touch of the jocose, -- "I was not quite aware of the extent of my love to the Church on some subjects, till I was informed of it, for there are several things which I should wish to see altered:" further stating, "there is a sorry set of ministers creeping into the Established Church, greatly to its injury. The livings of the New Government Churches are mostly in the gift of the Vicars and Rectors, and they introduce men like themselves." Sheffield and I-lull were noticed as exceptions by the writer. Again adverting to his interview with Doctor Bloomfield, and as if afraid of losing his character for independence and disinterestedness, by the remotest imputation of mixed motives, he pleasantly said, "Yes, I have been with the Bishop, but it was not for my son, recollect; I shall not ask, in this way, a favor at any man's hand: but I shall have to go again; for I find that his lordship has been misled on the subject of Methodism, by Mr. Robinson, of Beverley."
On another occasion, he was drawn into a more minute account of his first interview with his lordship, who complained of the excess of business he had on hand, and stated, with a degree of painful feeling, that his days of reading and study were over. Doctor Clarke' observed, that more might devolve upon his lordship at that particular time than any other, in consequence of what might have been unavoidably left undone by his predecessor. His lordship intimated, that it was not so much in consequence of any thing omitted by his learned predecessor, who had done every thing that could reasonably be expected, as owing to the circumstance of his having entered upon 'the diocese with a resolution to visit every part of it, and that such was the state of office, that he was compelled to give up his study. Doctor Clarke observed, that he considered the first thirty years of a student and man of learning, as an apprenticeship, during which he had to learn his trade, and after which he might be deemed as free, -- commencing for himself amidst the bustle of life:-living on past principles, which made him a proficient in whatsoever employment he might engage: adding, "nor is it necessary that he should be always learning the art." This embodied a fine turned compliment to the bishop, delicately hinting, that his past labors fully qualified him for the sphere in which he moved, and for the discharge of any duty that might devolve upon him in his official capacity. His lordship still dwelt upon the weight of his charge. The Doctor, with equal adroitness and delicacy availed himself of the remark to intimate that he might at that moment be encroaching upon his lordship's valuable time; who observed, that he did not intend his remark to be taken in that light; -- that he was exceedingly glad to see him, and should be happy to receive him at any time. On the Doctor leaving, his lordship, as just stated, accompanied him to the door, and taking his hand, addressed him in the language cited above, which was afterwards repeated by the Archdeacon of Cleveland.
He published this year also his first volume of sermons, which was followed by a second in 1829, and a third in 1830. In these sermons, it is sufficient to say, that we have an exemplification of the way in which he rendered the whole of his reading and observation, as in his Commentary, subservient to the work of the Christian ministry; and that the cordial manner in which they were received by the public, was highly creditable to their author. Like all his other writings, they have a character of their own, and are perfectly distinct in their handling from the generally published discourses of the day. Waiving every thing in the shape of labored criticism on them, the present seems to be a fitting opportunity for adverting to one particular topic. In the first edition of vol. I. p. 147, the Doctor, when speaking of Novelists, whose "plans" he considered as "the sickly abortions of paralyzed intellect," -- "the execution as fantastic and preposterous," -- and "the issue as dangerous, often destructive, and generally ruinous;" he includes among "honor-able exceptions," Henry Brook, Samuel Richardson, and Walter Scott; in reference to whom he observes, -- "The first leads you directly to God -- the fountain of life, perfection, and goodness. The second conducts you through many direct roads and fairy bye-paths to virtue and propriety of conduct in the various relations of life. And the latter carries you through nature and facts to the sources whence history should originate; and raises up not only the recollections of past events, but places you by inimitable description in the midst of generations that have long since ceased to exist, whom, in your presence, he causes to transact all the avocations of their respective situations in life, and to exhibit all the peculiarities of the manners and customs of their times, with the whole train of thinking and feeling which gave them birth. Such writers as these, shall have, from posterity at least, their just meed of praise; and of the general tenor of these works their authors need never be ashamed."
The insertion of this occasioned him some regret afterwards, from the circumstance of having learned that his "opinion had been abused." He signified his intention, therefore, of either qualifying his observations, or of omitting the passage entirely, in case of a second edition. He observed further, that he himself had been deceived in the Novels of Sir Walter. "I admired his genius," said he, "and, from his historical knowledge, concluded, without immediately referring to the distinct periods of history, that the whole of his novels were founded in fact; making, at the same time, every allowance for embellishment: but, on looking more closely into the subject, I found such a mixture of fiction running through the whole, that I ceased to trust him any where. Being denominated ' Historical Novels,' I expected, on reading them, to find their foundation in English history; but, on being. disappointed in this, they fell in my esteem, like the millstone, from the hand of the angel, into the depths of the sea. He has a small portion of fact; -- nature, fiction, and art, are all at work: nature supplies the fact, fiction surrounds it with airy beings, and art interweaves the whole, and forms a tale of it." Doctor E -- , who was present on the occasion, subjoined, "we ought to read them as we read Don Quixote." This last remark was objected to by the biographer, from the fact, that we know what credit to attach to the Spaniard, whose work, on Scott's own showing, can only be understood by reference to the Spanish romances; whereas the latter comes forward under other pretensions, as making his appeal to history, Doctor Clarke was still more at variance with his first opinion and impression afterwards. On passing through Manchester the last month of his life, from the Liverpool Conference, in calling on the biographer, he observed, on seeing a new work lying before him, -- "On leaving Liverpool, I took up, in the house of a friend, the forty-first volume of a new uniform edition of the Waverley Novels. Scott is now near the close of his days: when I look at such a man, and see him devote a whole life in the support of a fiction, reared on the base of a small historical fact, I can scarcely help concluding, that truth must have lost influence on the mind of such a man." This was little more than three weeks before the Doctor exchanged worlds. Sir Walter died about three weeks after. Happily, Sir Walter himself found where he was, when, as life was ebbing out, he addressed Lochart, his son-in-law, "Be a good man -- be virtuous -- be religious- -- nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here." Doctor E -- , in the earlier part of the conversation referred to, observed, "The Life of Napoleon is the worst work, as a composition, Scott ever wrote;" and cited various objectionable parts. Doctor Clarke stated, that he was on a visit to his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, when several of the Ministers of State, and two or three of the members of the Royal Family were present, on a particular occasion, -- that some of the Ministers, who were not in the habit of criticizing works, denounced it as a whole, -- that his Royal Highness asked him his opinion of it, to whom he replied that he had not read it, stating that his son, (chaplain to His Royal Highness,) had read it, and condemned it, not only as a history, but as to its literary merit, -- the Duke turned to him, saying, "I have read it, Doctor; Sir Walter is like an old -on the subject: he has written to please, and has prostituted his pen on the work." Doctor Clarke told Doctor E. what he had inserted in his sermon, anticipating that it would appear strange to some; but, said he, "Napoleon was a great man; and Scott had the opportunity of exhibiting him as such all the way through -- of maintaining his dignity -- and, after bringing him to the acme, of showing how this great man was brought low, and fell into the hands of the English." The writer remarked, that Sir Walter could have no motive for under-rating Napoleon; for in proportion as he exalted his character, he elevated the British nation, before which such might and such majesty were laid prostrate; so that there was not only nothing to lose by it, but every thing to gain. Doctor Clarke then related a circumstance in the history of the Duke of Marlborough, showing his pusillanimity in the case, as illustrative of the manner in which he was informed Scott had treated his subject, -- lowering his own dignity by the manner in which it was accomplished. Doctor E. followed with another as a set off against it, of Bonaparte; and Doctor Clarke closed with another of Admiral Duncan and Admiral De Winter, equally honorable to both.
In November, a new chapel was opened at Bayswater, when the Doctor preached two sermons on the occasions; attended as usual with divine unction.
Mr. Pettigrew, Librarian to His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, remarks in the Preface to his "Bibliotheca Sussexiana," 2 vols., 4to., p. viii., "I am proud to render my acknowledgment to many kind friends who have suggested to me various improvements and additions in the course of my labors; and in this respect it would be ungracious not to particularize my excellent friends the Venerable the Archdeacon Glover, Doctor Adam Clarke," &c. The aid which the Doctor lent in this way, in different directions, was considerable, and much of it unknown to the public; but still illustrative of his unwearied diligence and obliging disposition.
At the close of 1828, and commencement of 1829, he suffered much from rheumatism; and, in some instances, observed, that he had "to write upon his knees." He, nevertheless, was enabled at intervals to stir abroad; and, in addition to occasional pulpit exercises, passed the second volume of his Sermons through the press. He also kept up an extensive correspondence with the preachers on the Shetland Mission, as well as with its friends; exclusive of a correspondence with others on various literary and other subjects. As to Shetland, he observed in a letter to the biographer in the early part of the year, "The work, in the islands, goes on well, very well: but there is a distressing cry for money to go on with the chapels. The present set of preachers has little notion of the severe economic plan I have been obliged to pursue from the beginning -- and they draw on me as they please, without the slightest notice; not even telling what it is for!" His thirst after the antique was unabated; and, in another letter, in April, after descanting on his intended history of the same Mission, with some notice of the islands, together with other labors in which he had been engaged, he quietly remarks, "See that you pick me up some curious piece of antiquity, were it but the Horn Book out of which Adam and Eve taught Cain and Abel their alphabet!" In the month of May, he preached one of the Sermons in connection with the Wesleyan Missionary Anniversary, in London: and so much was his heart engaged in the prosperity of the Shetland Mission, that, in one of his letters to the biographer, in the month of July, he asks, "Will you ever go to Shetland again? I believe I have one visit more to pay to those Islands, if my wife will permit:" adding, "I have received this morning a letter from Mr. Chappell, to preach at Grosvenor Street. Give my love to him, and tell him I am not going to Conference, and have as much begging as I shall be able to get through. I have, with one thing or other, been driven to my wits' end. May God raise up help!"
He had not had a little trouble in reference to his literary property, in consequence of the somewhat sudden death of his nephew; but remarked, in a letter dated August 24, "It will not displease you to hear, that, after much trouble and delay, I have finally purchased all the remains of my Commentary from the Executors of the late Joseph Henry Butterworth; and am now removing the whole to my son's house. There are very few copies complete. This day, the 2nd vol. of the Sermons will be finished at the press," &c.
Noticing the clamor of the Romanists, in reference to their "claims," which was at this time unusually loud, he observed, "I see Paddy Catholic is determined never to rest till he get the kingdom entirely to himself. O, what an unmixed curse is Roman Catholicism! It is a universal blight to every bud of grace, of science, and of civilization. May God end it, or mend it? There are about half a dozen fellows, who, by committing high treason a hundred times, have so often forfeited their lives to the law -- and they have completely scared the poor Duke "-- [Wellington.] Conversation turning on the Queen of George in., he said, "Her Majesty's character is not understood by the public. Mr. Harding, the under Librarian, visits at my house, and has given me a most excellent character of her Majesty for private benevolence, and even more than that: she edited a book of prayers, of which Mr. Harding has a copy." It may be further remarked, that her Majesty had a private printing press, from which a few stray leaves of some poetical effusions have come into the writer's hands.
Having been importunately pressed to visit Bursiem, Halifax, Irwell Street, Manchester, and several other places, he complied with only two or three of the invitations, and that only conditionally, being in but a poor state of health. At Halifax, which is associated with his earlier history, he had never preached. He delivered an admirable discourse, which the writer had the pleasure of hearing, in the new chapel, which commenced the opening services, in the course of which services, the sum of £521. 4s. 3 1/2d. was collected; between eighty and ninety pounds of which were contributed in the morning, after the Doctor preached. A person in the tailoring line was so delighted with the sermon, that he went to the house of G. Brown, Esq., with whom the Doctor and Mrs. Clarke domiciled, to take measure of him for a suit of clothes, with which he intended to present him: the Doctor objected: importunity, however, at length overcame him, and he submitted to indulge the man, by allowing him to accomplish only part of his grateful purpose; and, accordingly, an excellent new top coat followed the Doctor in his wake homeward. It will be recollected, that the good ladies of Halifax had objected to his appointment to the circuit, in the early part of his itinerancy. The ladies in this case, set to work, unknown to the gentlemen, and obtained his consent to open the chapel: while the latter were deliberating, they went in with their answer, part of which was in praise of WOMAN, and relieved them of their trouble, in the midst of their grave and almost hopeless deliberations.
Though symptoms of physical debility appeared in the course of this tour, he exerted himself not a little to conceal it, to prevent it having any painful influence on the sympathies of his friends. He ate but little: the finest of the wheat was placed before him; one thing after another was offered and refused: a little coarse bread was on a sideboard, but not presented to him: "I am afraid," said Mrs. Brown, "you are not making well out, Doctor;" observing, "we have no other bread than this, except what is on the table." "That, madam," he replied, "is the very thing I want; the other is too good for me I shall live now." On observing that he had a good deal of fever in his system, he said, "I see plainly that mind, good purpose, and zeal, may last, and be active, when strength is too far impaired to accomplish their dictates." Time being noticed, in its relations to an invisible state, he said, "Time is a spark struck out from eternity;" then changing the phraseology, he added, "There is the eternity past, and there is the eternity to come. Time is an outbirth from both." Speaking of the season, he said, "It is very remarkable; it appears as though November had stolen two or three days from some other month, and yet it is difficult to say which." Some one directing his attention to his favorite subject, the Shetland Mission, he said, he thought of going again, if Mrs. Clarke would agree to it. The writer observed to the latter, I perceive that the Doctor has, in various oblique ways, been taking his soundings, and you must allow him a little ground for anchorage." "Never," replied Mrs. Clarke with firmness; objecting chiefly to the danger. The Doctor turned round, and inquired smiling, "What boat was Cśsar in, Mary, and to what place was he proceeding incog., when he silenced the fears of the sailors, by telling them that the vessel carried Caesar and his fortunes?" continuing, "I should go under the firm conviction that I was in the hand of God, and that he would not allow me to perish till my work was done." The "Personal Narrative" of a writer being named, the Doctor said, "It is a poor thing: indeed, I never liked the man; he never could meet an honest eye, -- but always shrunk from it." On Good's "Book of Nature," he stated, that he heard part of the work delivered in Lectures by its author, prior to its publication, and that he had objections to several parts, not only to his statements, but to certain portions of its literary character, which he had entered in the margin of a copy belonging to a friend.
He tarried in the neighborhood of Manchester a short time, on his return home, took Burslem on his route, and also Bruerton; at which last place, in addition to giving the people a sermon, he attended a Missionary Meeting. On finding all well at his own residence, on reaching it, he returned to London, where he had to preach on the Sabbath day; and from thence, had to proceed to Denham, in Buckinghamshire, to preach on the Tuesday; observing, in a letter, "Rest, you perceive, is not yet ordained for me." In addition to occasional pulpit labor, and his general reading and studies, part of the winter was occupied in relieving the necessities of the poor -seventy families in all; apportioning to each, partly from his own funds, and partly through the assistance of a gentleman in the neighborhood, blankets, and various articles of rai-ment.
In 1830, he contemplated a change of residence, and had serious thoughts of closing his days in his native country. The following remarks comprise his views and feelings ou the subject; and although it is doubtful, as he himself observed, whether he would have obtained the perfect acquiescence of the other branches of the family in the matter, yet it is curious to see how nostalgia operates in its visitations on even the aged, after the absence of half a century from their birth-place and their home. " For several years," he remarked, as the desire became more strong, " I have wished to terminate my public life in Ireland, and lay my bones among the children of my people. I at first, fixed on the banks of Mayola, but could not accomplish what I wished. Hearing that Glanmire, near Cork, was to be sold, I entered into a negotiation concerning that, through the means of Mr. C --; and although the price might not have exceeded what I hoped my own property in England might have been sold for, I gave up all thoughts about it when I found there was no proper title to it; and that it would he too great a risk to .run, with nothing better than probabilities before me: and besides, the horrible disposition of a certain class of persons, who would, at all times, he ready to cut the throats of their neighbors, when the interests of their bad Mother [the Church of Rome] seemed to require it. Lastly, I thought of the neighborhood of Coleraine, and especially of Agherton, and the coast from the Bar Mouth, even as far as Port Rush: but my mind was loath to pass by Port Stuart, and its environs, which was the scene of my boyish days -- where I had the rudiments of my little education, -- when I first saw, or even heard of a Methodist Preacher, -- where I first felt conviction of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment, -- where I found the pardoning love of God, -- where I first joined the Methodists, -- where I became a leader, -where I first felt a call to offer the salvation of Christ to my neighbors, and from which I was called to become an Itinerant Preacher . These things gave me so many points of attachment to Flowerfield, Burnside, Mullayhyeall, and Port Stuart, that no part of the habitable globe would have produced half the number. It struck me to ask Mr. Cromie, whether he had a bit of ground, that 1 could purchase, to build a little snug house on; or whether he had such a house he could dispose of? I received; a letter from Mr. H., to whom Mr. C. had mentioned mine to him, and afterwards one from Mr. C., which, full of the utmost friendship, and willing even to make sacrifices for my accommodation, yet seemed to take up the subject on too large and too expensive a scale for me ever to 'pretend to. I wrote both to Mr. H. and Mr. C., and made such a general exposť of my circumstances as would tend to correct and limit their view, with respect to me. Again I wrote to Mr. C., (who had answered the above,) and even mentioned a field -- in which, after a long and sore fight of affliction, I found the peace of God. Yet the answer to that told me that the field was let on lease, and was consequently, not to be sold. Mr. C. spoke of a field of his own, that he was willing to part with; but where it was, or whether it would answer to build on, I did not know. On the whole," he proceeded, "it seems my wishes are not likely to meet with any immediate gratification, -- though I am satisfied, good Mr. Cromie would meet my wishes, if he could. This subject I have never yet intimated either to my wife, or any of my family:" for a very sufficient reason, as he subjoined, "as I have no doubt, that all would be against it."
About the same time, when speaking of the Round Tower at Antrim, which he had examined, and an account of which he had laid before the "Antiquarian Society," he said, "I wish I could buy that tower, and the field in which it stands; I would call it MACHPELAH, and perhaps make it an inheritance for my posterity; and a place for. a burying-ground: but I should be sorely tempted to make. the lower part of the tower into a. dwelling-house, and. the top into, an observatory." But 'here' was a "let or hindrance." Leasehold was to him, at all times, a fly in the pot of ointment.. "On such: a tenure," said he, "1 would not put down' a brick. If I ever settle, in Ireland, which I have long desired, it must be on a piece of ground that must be my own, from the, surface to the center -- and from the day I take possession of it, to the day of judgment." The debility which he experienced towards the close of autumn, seemed chiefly to have left him; and he observed in the month of January, "I seem now to have a new hold of life; through all this hard winter, they have driven me about, preaching charity sermons, not only in Middlesex and Oxfordshire, but also through Cheshire, Yorkshire, and Staffordshire; and I am better, blessed be the Lord, than I have been for eight years past. I wish to preach once every Lord's day, as long as I live; and sometimes, on particular, or special occasions, to take an extra job. But to Ireland, nor to any other place will I go, as I have done; and as I was obliged to do when last officially appointed in my 'ain countree:' " subjoining to a friend, who was well acquainted with the dialect adopted, -" na, na: I hae na the spunk I ance had, whan I preechit nine times i' the day, trotted twanty mile, on my shanks, and had na better than a wheen praties and a sip o' butter milk, a maist turned into whey, it was sae auld, and sae soor:" further adding, "and I really delight to remember those times: they were times of God and of his love." Is it wonderful, with such associations of home, of simplicity, of God, and of usefulness, there should be yearnings after the scene of early days? But he was aware that zeal might run itself out of breath; and to the person addressed, he remarked, "I fear nothing for you, but lest you should injure yourself by acts of imprudence, produced merely by your zeal for God, in the salvation of souls. You ride a fine courser; take the spurs off your heels, and stick them in your hat; he needs them not. He is a free horse; let him never be ridden to death. Check him gently' with the bit; and he will serve you well., and serve you long."
It was announced to the Doctor, at the commencement of this year, by the Secretary, that he was elected an Honorary Member of the "Eclectic Society of London." The notification of this was under the seal of the Duke of Gloucester, its Patron, and of which the Chancellors of the two Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, were Vice-Patrons. This honor was conferred only upon such as had rendered themselves eminent either in literary or scientific pursuits. This Society, it is presumed, will not be confounded with one of the same name, "Consisting," as Mr. Grimshawe observes, in his edition of Cowper's Works, Vol. II., p. 107, "of several pious ministers, who statedly met for the purpose of mutual edification, and which is still in existence," and of which, Doctor Southey, in his edition of the Works of the same Poet, represents the Rev. J. Newton as the founder, Vol. I., Preface, p. vi., but one of a widely different character. Doctor Clarke being complimented on this additional laurel, turned it off with the tale of an old matron, whose sou had come to great honor, but to which she was unable to give a name, though impressed with the notion that it was something more than royalty: and being anxious to know what amount it brought to him per annum, was astonished to find it, in the reply to her question, reduced to -- NOTHING: the old lady's estimate of honor being found to run side by side with so much hard cash.
Towards the latter part of March, just after he had experienced a slight stroke of paralysis, occasioned by a sudden shock received in consequence of a nearly fatal accident which was about befalling Mrs. Clarke, through an unmanageable horse in a barouchette in which she was seated, and which slightly affected his speech for a short time, he paid a visit to Derby, Manchester, Salford, Ashton-under-Tyne, and Stockport. At each of these places the feeling to hear him was intense; and the collections in some cases double those of the year preceding: Ashton £40., Derby £60., Wesley Chapel, Manchester, £103., Salford £105., Stockport £70.
In the course of this visit, he dined, (April 1,) and spent an afternoon at the house of G. R. Chappell, Esq., whom he both loved and respected, and who had invited a circle of friends to meet him. There was one in the company with whom the Doctor had been on terms of intimacy in early life, but whose feelings, together with those of his family, had, through some misapprehensions, become estranged; the following sentence going the round of a narrow circle, -- "Doctor Clarke deserts his old friends." Of this, the Doctor knew nothing; but being known to the biographer, who was resolved to break the neck of it, without allowing the Doctor to know the design, both sallied forth after 'the ladies had withdrawn; and introducing the Doctor to the good lady and family of the gentleman left behind, a mutual greeting took place -- the lady joined the company at tea -- all shyness subsided -- the Doctor's impression, that 'the family. had gone to reside in a part which he never visited,' was corrected -- and "olden times" became the topic of conversation; smiling at a certain gentleman's partiality to the leg of a goose, the Doctor jocosely observing,: that he recollected how fond he was in taking that fowl: by the limb. Mr. -- pressed the Doctor to visit' him at his residence, and spend a little time with him. The Doctor looked him in the face, with his eyes swimming in water, and said, "Of all the friends I have in this neighborhood, there is not one whose house I would sooner go to than -- (familiarizing his Christian name.) God has given me a body and a mind that have gone through a great deal; -- I can live sparingly, -- do with little raiment, -- with little sleep, -- and very little food; but there is one thing I have never been able to live without -- MY FRIENDS. Next to God himself, I must have these, or I could not live. I have a bottle of wine at Haydon Hall, which wine has been in the bottle ninety years, and if you (still looking at the gentleman,) will pay me a visit, you shall draw the cork." Had the Doctor -- (for the writer concealed it from him,) -- known the charge of ingratitude and slighted friendship preferred against him, he could not have timed a remark more seasonably, any more than have put it into a more appropriate form.
The ordinance of baptism being introduced, the Doctor stated, that he could not close in with the views of Doctor Mant. Mr. W____ argued that children who were baptized, stood higher in grace than those who had not received the rite, and that they would have a higher degree of glory assigned them in heaven. To this the Doctor demurred; and gave the views of 'Mr. Wesley, who believed that the seeds of regeneration were sown in baptism, and was inclined to think that he was correct. Another gentleman' struck in, and intimated his belief in the fact, that grace might be imparted in consequence of pious people using the ordinance, just as wickedness might follow in the case of wicked parents; quoting, in his support, the case of God visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children. "Yes," said the Doctor, "but there is a reference in that text to such children as you and me -- both of whom are grandfathers." The conversation terminated, though lengthened, in a maintenance, that the neglect and wickedness of parents would not be entailed upon their infants, -- but that every one would suffer for his own sin.
It was the Doctor's intention to have proceeded by way of Liverpool to Ireland, whither he wished the biographer to accompany him; observing, "You assisted me in laying the foundation of a house for God in the ultima Thule of the ancients, and you must now help me to prepare a house in which to end roy days. You shall see the place, within a very narrow space around which the principal events of my early life lie grouped together; and it is in the north of Ireland that you will see genuine Irish manners and hospitality: adding, under the influence of early impressions, "We shall be there just in time for the salmon fishing." While at Derby, however, it may be observed, he received a letter, pressing him to return to London, to take part of the services connected with the opening of a new chapel, with which invitation he complied. While in the metropolis, he hesitated whether to proceed to Ireland by way of Bristol, Holyhead, or Liverpool. He looked at the land carriage which ,he had already compassed from London to Manchester and back again, 'with another journey to Liverpool; and then again, at the length of the voyage from Bristol, on the chance of unfavorable weather; neither of which suited him at the time. He at length decided in favor of Liverpool, where he was joined by the writer. After tarrying there a day or two on account of the unsettled state of the weather, a passage was taken in the "Corsair," a large steam vessel, eleven 'hundred tons burden, for Belfast. She sailed in the evening, but before two or three hours had elapsed, the 'storm arose with renewed fury; and what made matters somewhat more perilous, was, that the engine lost the power of one of her wheels, so that she had to plow 'her way through the waves like a sea-bird with one leg. Now was the time for thinking over an expression to which the Doctor gave utterance, while hesitating on shore; -- "I always like to: be' sure of upper country work." He doubted whether the utmost prudence and forecast had been: exercised. However, the captain, (Owen,) whose brother was named 'after a Methodist preacher, and with whom the Doctor was personally acquainted, assigned a separate apartment for the two voyagers, who were as comfortable as landsmen could. be in a storm, with a partially disabled engine, and the mops held in constant requisition in their immediate neighborhood; feeling, at the same time, the full emphasis of another expression of the Doctor's, -- "a thousand leagues of sea for an acre of land for me."
The forenoon of the next day was more tranquil, and after an agreeable sail up Belfast Loch, a distance of twenty miles, a safe landing was effected about twelve o'clock in the forenoon. After tarrying at Belfast till the Friday, the places successively visited were Antrim, Coleraine, Port Stuart, Grace Hill, the Giant's Causeway, &c. To the last of these places, the visit was confined to the biographer and a few friends, and sermons were preached by one or both, at most of the others. As a free use of the journal of this visit has been made in the earlier parts of this memoir, owing to the more appropriate character of much of the material for that portion of the work -- the Doctor having gone over the principal part of his early history, with the biographer by his side, while visiting the scenes and haunts of youth, most of which were either teeming with incident or enriched with observations, and as an epitome of the visit has been already given to the public from the Doctor's own pen, there is the less disposition to enlarge, though regret cannot but be felt -- owing to the limits prescribed for the remainder of these pages, that most of his happiest and richest conversations should have to be withheld; as for example, the following:-
On the writer entering the library of J. Cromie, Esq., with whom both domiciled, just before breakfast one morning, the Doctor said, "I was up long before five o'clock, gazing on the vast ocean, rolling his tremendous, but magnificent waves to the shore, dashing against, and over the rocks, and approaching within only a few yards of our feet. We are, I suppose, within ten or twenty yards of the place, where the poluphloisbois thalasses is most fully exemplified; and where more than three score years ago, I first noticed the accuracy of the description of the rolling of the waves, and their dash on the shore. In no sea, in all my travels, have I ever seen this so finely exemplified as here: and I presume Homer must have stood as advantageously on some Grecian shore, when he wrote in his first Illiad. The poetry, which represents Agamemnon on the shore, is expressive of the wave gathering, -- its first curl hissing,' -- then rolling over, -- and dashing down." Here the Doctor made a noble effort at imitation; repeating the first words in a meditative mood, -- then, coming to the last, suddenly stopped and wheeled round, -- slowly walking along with his head downward, and uttering the words, -- varying the voice and the action to the wave -rising -- rolling -- and falling. Turning to a pane of glass, the writer found that the Doctor had not only been contemplating "the great deep," but also human life, and had cut out, with the point of a diamond, and with a careful hand; the' following lines, which, on his return to England, he inserted in an Album:-
"The Seasons of Adam Clarke's Life."
I have enjoyed the spring of life-I have endured the toils of its summer-I have culled the fruits of its autumn-I am now passing through the rigors of its winter; And I am neither forsaken of God, Nor abandoned by man. I see at no great distance the dawn of a new day, The first of a spring that shall be eternal! It is advancing to meet me! I run to embrace it! Welcome! welcome! eternal spring! Hallelujah!"
He generally carried with him, what he called his Traveling Library; but it not being convenient always to pack the books in his carpet bag, he was anxious to have a case for it; and with this he was furnished soon after he reached home, the whole being comprised within very little compass. In this case there were several small compartments, made to receive the following works:-- Leusden's Greek Testament, with the Latin. Version of Montani; Amsterdam, 1741, 24mo.: Field's Septuagint; Cantabrigia, 1665, 24mo.: Hebrew Bible, 24mo.: Pawsham's edition of the English Version of the Bible, 1776, 32mo.: Horace, printed by J. Jannoni Sedani, 1627; and Virgil, printed by the same, 1625; both bound in one volume, with silver clasp, 48mo., for which he gave £3. 3s. to Priestly.
In companionship with these, he commissioned the biographer to procure for him a small copy of the English Prayer Book, without the Psalms. Thus equipped, with his ink bottle, which he had carried thousands of miles, suspended by a black ribbon round his neck, and which he could put into his waistcoat pocket, he was rarely unemployed.
On looking over part of Mr. Cromie's grounds one morning for a site on which to erect a dwelling for the Doctor, prior to the purchase of one which was afterwards selected, an aged female, bending over her staff, directed her feeble steps towards the party. It was the usual morning set apart by Mr. Cromie for relieving the pensioners on his bounty, and others were also seen streaming in different directions towards his hospitable residence. The matron referred to, stooped a good deal -- had a fair complexion -- was much furrowed with age -- and had, upon the whole, a round agreeable face; presenting ---- had she been clean, and clothed with other attire than rags -- a lovely picture of advanced life. She first paid court to the group, and then singling out the Doctor, as if instinctively led to him, asked, while raising her head,
Old W. -- "Is not your name Mr. Clarke, Sir?" Dr. C. -- "Yes, my name is Clarke; but there are many others of the same name, and I may not be the person after whom you are inquiring."
Old W. -- "O yes, Sir, you are the person, and I heard you preach in the county Derry, between fifty and sixty years ago."
Dr. C. -- "Are you sure you heard a person of that name?"
Old W. -- "Yes, Sir, I heard you; but you were very young then."
The Doctor, being desirous of leading her into detail,, but in such a way as that which, while it served her recollection, might be confirmatory of the accuracy of her relation, inquired--
Dr. C. -- "What is your age?"
Old W. -- "Eighty-seven."
Dr. C. -- "What is the name of the place at which you suppose you heard me preach?"
Old W. -- "New Buildings, about a mile and a half from Perry."
Dr. C. -- "What were you doing there at the time?"
Old W. -- "I lived servant at the time with Mr. Mountjoy, whose house was several miles from New Buildings."
Dr. C. -- "Have you a husband?"
Old W. -- "I had a husband, but he went to England -- had another wife -- and left me with three children."
Dr. C. -- Abruptly: "He was a scamp."
Old W. -- "Sir?"
Dr. C. -- "He was a scamp, I say; that is, a scoundrel -- a bad man."
Old W. -- "Aye -- he was not all right -- I found that out."
Then changing the subject -- Dr. C. -- "What kind of place was it that you heard preaching in?"
Here the old woman gave a graphic and accurate description of the place.
Dr. C. -- "Who was there besides you?" Old W. -- "Mr. and Mrs. Mountjoy, and Mr. Halliday."
Dr. C. -- "Who else?"
Old W. -- "Betty Quige."
Dr. C. -- "Where did I go from New Buildings?"
Old W. -- "Up the hill, to meet the class, and to sleep."
Dr. C. -- "What else do you recollect?"
Old W. -- "Oh, you held a meeting the next morning at five o' clock, at Mr. Halliday' s, and, though several miles from the place where I lived, I was there again."
Dr. C. -- "Do you recollect the text taken in the evening?"
Old W. -- Pausing: "Let me see;" hesitating, and pausing again, -- "I think it was in Luke."
Dr. C. -- "It was not there: think again. Was any thing said about John? and, among other strange things, his being put into a caldron of boiling oil?"
Old W. -- Pausing again: "Well, I cannot rightly say; but you met the class and preached next morning."
Dr. C. -- "I did:" then, addressing himself to the little party, he proceeded: "This woman heard the very first sermon -- if so it might be called -- I ever preached; at all events, she heard me on the first text I ever attempted to explain." "And pray, what was the text, Doctor?" inquired the biographer, who stood by his side. "It was 1 John v. 19," be replied; "We know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness:" subjoining, in reference to his early hearer, "It is not to be wondered that she should cease to remember the text; it was about the year 1780." Turning to his hearer again, he asked, "Do you recollect any famous woman in the neighborhood at that time?" She hesitated, and seemed to be at a loss to know what was to be applied to the word famous: when she was relieved by -- "I mean, any woman that was remarkable for her usefulness among the people." She named several, when the conversation was interrupted by Mr. Wray riding up to the party, the son of a neighboring magistrate. The Doctor gave her a shilling, and she seemed anxious to gain his ear for some thing else, but was told he would see her again. She heard him preach that same night, -- having thus, after the hour of preaching, power to say, what, in all probability, no one upon earth but herself had power to say -- that she had heard the first and the last sermon, with the lapse of fifty years between, Dr. Clarke had then preached. He took this text -- the one at New Buildings -- in one of the chapels in London, between forty and fifty years after; stating to his auditory, that it was his first text, and that he had never seen proper to change his views on the subject.
A house being offered for sale just at this time, the Doctor bought it; and, after having settled matters, left for Belfast, taking Grace Hill, Antrim, and some other places in his route. To the writer it was a rich treat. Grace Hill, a Moravian establishment, was reached on the evening of the third of May: the next day the Moravians celebrated their second jubilee, and first centenary, -having first settled there, May 4th, 1730: the celebration was chiefly confined to the single sisters, who held a lovefeast on the occasion. To this place, Montgomery, the author of the "World before the Flood," was brought from Scotland by his parents, when three years of age; and here he remained till he arrived at the age of six. His nephew, and two venerable ladies -- aunts of the poet, were resident at the place,' and, together with the ministers and the joyous occasion, heightened the pleasure of the visit. John James Montgomery, the nephew, now a Moravian minister in England, was then rising into manhood, -- tall -- well made -- finely arched eyebrows -- highly intellectual -- imaginative -- a mind richly cultivated -- good taste -- excellent conversational powers; exhibiting in his actions, his mode of thinking, and the inflections of his voice, some of the more expressive features of the poet. He took the writer to the Moravian burying-ground, where
The little heaps were rang'd in comely rows, With walks between, by friends and kindred trod;"
the image of which seemed to have been present with his uncle, when penning "The Burying-place of the Patriarchs," at the commencement of the fifth canto of "The World before the Flood." The grave of his grandfather, (on the maternal side,) and also that of his grandmother -- the daughter of the excellent John Gambold, the early friend of Wesley, a Moravian bishop, author of "Ignatius" and other poems -- were pointed out. Thence, the steps of the visitor were directed to the abode of the aunts of his father, (Ignatius Montgomery,) and of his uncle; two venerable figures -- in a clean, neat, thatched cottage -- embowered among trees, in the midst of a garden -- a small wicket, and narrow path leading to the door -- the venerable pair living by themselves, the picture of innocence, simplicity, and happiness -- one of them (the oldest) about eighty years of age, strongly resembling the poet about the upper part of the face, with a brilliant hazel eye, -- with two small spinning wheels standing in the room, emblems of industry, and relics of times anterior to the invention of flax and cotton mills. Next were taken out the fishing-rods, which were employed without success. After that, the village, castle, and church of Galgoram were visited, in company with the Doctor. Among other conversations, the Doctor observed, addressing Mr. Montgomery, "The only point on which I differ with your uncle, is, the preference which he gives to Dr. Watts over Charles Wesley, as a poet." He then quoted a hymn, which Watts himself had applauded -- . "Wrestling Jacob," and dwelt on the superiority of the Wesleyan hymnologist. Mr. Montgomery, to ward off the good-tempered stroke, asked whether his uncle did not cede the palm to Watts, chiefly, for having led the way to a better form, and more elevated style of poetry, as to hymns? This the Doctor would not admit; and a few miscellaneous remarks closed the subject. Three of the Moravian ministers joined the party at supper, and strongly pressed the Doctor to preach; but his time was limited and would not admit of it. Early on the morning of departure, the jubilee commenced by strewing flowers before the doors of all the single sisters, both those who were in the institution, and those resident with their parents in the village. This being done, the young men of the institution played several sacred airs and psalm-tunes, at the four corners of the square, after which the solemnities of public worship commenced.
After spending a short time at Antrim and Belfast, a passage was taken in the Hibernia steam-packet for Liverpool, at which place the Doctor rested a couple of days; and, after preaching at Leeds-Street Chapel on the sabbath, left for London, where he arrived on the 11th of May; having been somewhat annoyed by the way, on finding, when he reached Warrington, that nine convicts were on the top of the coach, to grace his entrance into the metropolis. The very iron seemed to enter his soul, when he heard their chains clanking, as they descended and re-ascended the coach.
In the months of June and July, he preached occasional sermons at Worcester, Liverpool, and some other places, and presided at the second South Welsh district meeting, at Carmarthen. This was his first visit to South Wales; and, though he had frequently passed and repassed through
North Wales, he had never preached there. In a letter to the writer, he observes, -- "South Wales, take it for wood and water, hill and dale, mountain and valley scenery, I think it exceeds almost every place I have seen. To me, it is beauty itself; and this very day I was regretting, that I had not your eye and your hand, to lay it all down on paper." He contemplated another visit to Ireland, and intended to spend the time there, which his brethren on this side of the water were obliged to devote to the sittings of the British Conference at Leeds, but was prevented.
In another letter to the present writer, he observed, -- "We have lost George IV., and got William IV. The deceased was the best constitutional king that ever sat on the British throne. May the successor be equal to him! I suppose that the present ministry will keep their places. Perhaps, as things are, we cannot get a better set: they never had an ounce of my confidence; the general election will soon make a busy and a sinful nation. Lord keep our people sound in the truth of the gospel, and of the constitution!"
Contrary to Dr. Clarke's intention, and opposed to his wish, he, at the urgent request of his friends, attended the Leeds Conference, at which several resolutions were unanimously adopted, expressive of the determined hostility of the Wesleyan body to slavery. On the resolutions being moved, they were cordially seconded by him. He preached in Brunswick chapel, on Acts xix. 20-22; but remarked afterwards, to the biographer, -- "I am torn all to pieces by this day's work." He proceeded from Leeds to Liverpool, and, on his way, spent some time in the neighborhood of Manchester.
The Doctor at this time published, as a separate work, with a distinct preface, including his reasons for it, "The whole Book of Psalms. The texts carefully printed from the most correct copies of the present Authorized Translation, including the marginal readings and parallel texts. With a commentary and critical notes; and, at the end of each Psalm, a copious analysis of its whole contents." Some of the parts of his general Commentary being out of print, and having passed the 70th year of his age, he was unwilling -- other reasons combined, to engage in the labor of superintends new edition, and therefore authorized the biographer to correspond and treat with Mr. Paul, bookseller, New York, America, respecting the copyright, under the impression that, as he had derived no advantage from its sale, a new edition, with his last corrections, emendations, additions, &c., might be acceptable to the American public, whose demand had brought into the market, in that country, two stereotyped editions, by two different houses. This negotiation having fallen through, the writer was next authorized to negotiate with a London publisher, and with the exception of signing the agreement, which was afterwards amicably done by the Doctor's executors, he brought the matter to a close with Mr. Tegg, who agreed to give two thousand guineas for the copyright, which was afterwards settled down to £2000. This enterprising publisher afterwards purchased the copyright of the Doctor's other Works, printed and in MS., and gave the principal part of them to the world, in 13 volumes, with the exception of his Bibliographical Dictionary, the whole of which were committed to the hands of the present writer to edit. One interesting fact may be noticed in connection with the American edition of the Commentary. Mrs. Sigourney, in a letter to Mrs. Smith, daughter of Doctor Clarke, observes, in reference to some beautiful lines on his death, in her "Lays of the West," -- "A few years after I had written the heart-felt tribute to his memory, -- it seemed as if he opened his hand to confer upon me a pleasant and peculiar benefit. One of our pastors (and it was then, rather a new custom among us) gathered around him the adult ladies of his church, in a bible class. It was observed when there were difficult passages in our lessons, I seemed to be furnished with information, which my compeers, though perhaps close students, had not obtained. On their inquiry it was found, that the cabalistic key to this theological erudition, was a copy of the learned Adam Clarke's Commentary, which had been lent me by a friend."
In the autumn of this year, the Doctor's attention was directed by three ladies, to the necessity of establishing Schools for children, in the destitute district of Ulster, which ladies, in connection with Miss Birch -- the latter a munificent benefactress of the Shetland mission, placed funds at his disposal for the purpose. Into this work he fully entered, and, in connection with the Rev. S. Harper, Mr. McAlwine, and others, established a number of schools, which were eminently successful, personally visited by him, and nursed with the tenderest care to the close of life; of which some highly interesting accounts have been laid before the public.
Having been pressed to visit the metropolis, and also Haydon Hall, in reference to some literary arrangements, the writer passed some days of deep interest with the Doctor and his family, especially in the library, and among the antiques, where a free and full range was obligingly allowed, and every facility was afforded for the gratification of curious as well as grave research.
Though the utmost restraint has been imposed in the composition of these pages, as to the act of taxing the Doctor's correspondence with the biographer, with a view to enlarge the work, it may not be deemed any great departure from the general rule prescribed, to introduce the following letter in this place, as it furnishes an interesting glimpse into "the inner man," as to the habit of thought and feeling indulged at the time; and the more so, as the whole was spontaneous, flowing as naturally from the heart as a stream from its fountain.
"Dec. 21, five o'clock a. m., Shortest day in 1830.
"Dear Everett. -- In the name of God! Amen. About three-score and ten of such short days have I seen; and, as my time, in the course of nature, as it is called, is now ended, (for the above time is its general limit,) I need to have little to do, as my time is at the longest, and this day is the shortest I may ever see; yet I have never fallen out with life: I have borne many of its rude blasts, and I have been fostered with not a few of its finest breezes; and should I complain against time and the dispensations of Providence, then shame would be to me! Indeed, if God sees right, I have no objection to live on here to the day of judgment; for while the earth lasts, there will be something to do by a heart, head, and hand like mine -- as long as there is something to be learnt, something to be sympathetically felt, and something to be done. I have not lived to, or for myself -
I am not conscious to myself that I have ever passed one such day. My fellow-creatures were the subjects of my deepest meditations, and the objects of my most earnest attention. God never needed my services: He brought me into the world that I might receive good from Him, and do good to my fellows. This is God's object in reference to all human beings, and should be the object of every man in reference to his brother. This is the whole of my practical creed. God, in his love, gave me a being: in his mercy he has done everything he should do, to make it a well-being; has taught me to love him, by first loving me; and has taught me to love my neighbor as myself, by inspiring me with his own love. Therefore my grand object, in all my best and considerate moments, is, to live to get good from God, that I may do good to my fellows; and this alone is the way in which man can glorify his Maker. Perhaps a man of a cold heart and uncultivated head might say, in looking into the articles of his faith, 'This may be the creed of an infidel, of a deist, or natural religionist.' I say, No. No such person ever had such a creed, or ever can have it. It is in and through the Almighty Jesus alone, that the all-binding, all-persuading, all-constraining, and all-pervading love of God to man was ever known; and to me it is a doubt, whether there was, is, or can be, any other way in which God himself could, or can make himself known to the compound being man. Jesus the Christ incarnated; Jesus the Christ crucified; Jesus the Christ dying for our offenses, and rising for our justification; Jesus sending forth the all-pervading, all-refining, and all-purifying light and energy of his Holy Spirit, has revealed the secret, and accomplished the purpose of that God whose name is mercy and whose nature is love. If I could conceive the wondrous Saviour to be a derived being -- a begotten Deity, no matter how long ago, I could esteem him for his philanthropy, I could reverence him for the disinterestedness of his conduct -- for I can esteem Newton, and I can reverence Howard. But Newton and Howard, with their wisdom and benevolence united, could not, though all the angels of God had come to their assistance, have made atonement for the offenses of my soul, or bought for me an eternity of glory: this has Jesus (the underived, the unbegotten, the eternal sum of all infinite and eternal perfections) done by his manifestation in the flesh, and by the consequences of that manifestation. O thou incomprehensible Jehovah, thou eternal Word, the ever-enduring and all-pervading Spirit; -- Father! Son! and Holy Ghost! -- in the plenitude of thy eternal Godhead, in thy light, I, in a measure, see Thee; and, in thy condescending nearness to my nature, I can love Thee, for Thou hast loved me. In thy strength may I begin, continue, and end every design, and every work; so as to glorify Thee, by showing how much Thou lovest man, and how much man may be ennobled and beatified by loving THEE! O, my Everett, here am I fixed, here am I lost, and here I find my God, and here I find myself! But whither do I run, or rather rush? When I sat down to write, not one word of what is written was designed. I only intended to write a little on a subject in which you so kindly interested yourself, in order to render the last days of your aged brother a little more comfortable, by enabling him to continue in a little usefulness to the end; -- not rusting, but wearing out... 'The powers of darkness,' as Captain Webb used to say,' come down upon us like wet blankets:' but all is not lost that is in danger.
"I have lately been called upon to enter into a work, and without giving me a groat, may employ the rest of my days. Some benevolent persons, chiefly ladies, some of them not at all known to me, have begged me to undertake the establishment of charity schools in those parts of Ireland, where neither the Methodists, nor any other, have set their foot. Now, the district where you and I were -- Port Rush, and all its vicinity, where I proclaimed Jesus when but a little boy, has neither Sunday nor day-school, nor a place of worship of any kind. These schools I am now beginning; and there we shall open a school, under Methodist direction, on the 25th. Already nearly £400. are offered to me for the work. There shall I turn my face, please God, as soon as the weather permits. Wishing you every blessing of all short and long days for a century to come, I am, dear Everett,
Yours affectionately, -- ADAM CLARKE.
"P.S. -- I have thought of requesting you to turn your attention to the malevolent attack, in the number for August, of the The Review is constructed for the purpose of exciting prejudice. Some one has published a pamphlet on it, dated in Liverpool, signed 'Josephus,' but I know not who, nor even guess."
In the early part of 1831, Peter Jones, a chief of the Chippeway tribe of Indians, whose native name was Kahkewaquonaby, was introduced to the notice and friendship of Dr. Clarke, by a recommendatory letter from the Rev. William Case, a Wesleyan Missionary in Upper Canada. This chief was one of the first converts of the Chippeway nation; and had been employed in the wilderness, in pointing the wild men of the woods to the cross of Christ. One object of his visit was, to solicit donations for the cause of Missions among the Indians; and another was, to present portions of the New Testament to the British and Foreign Bible Society for publication, which he had translated into the Chippeway; in the prosecution of which he had derived essential service from Dr. Clarke's Commentary, being ignorant of the Greek, and for which he was anxious to tender his acknowledgments to the Doctor in person. To both the preaching and private conversations of this excellent man, the biographer has listened with unmixed pleasure, as well as to the ministrations of John Sundys, another Indian chief. Many of their traditional tales were distinguished for wild sublimity, and never failed to interest the heart and enchain the attention.
A gentleman from the United States -- not in companionship with Mr. Jones -- called on the Doctor at Hay-don Hall, and expatiated, in the course of conversation, in a somewhat grandiloquent style, on the success of his (the Doctor's) Notes in America -- the successive editions of the work -- and the immense sums of money realized by it; anticipating some expression of pleasure in return: but no; the commentator dryly inquired, -- "Have they asked my leave to do so? and is it honest, in any person professing religion, to do it without my grant?" The gentleman instantly descended from his heights, whither he had been soaring in full expectation that the mind of his auditor had been caught up with him, and 'was not a little relieved by a change of subject. The truth is, as appears from various conversational notes made on different occasions, that a sharp correspondence had passed between the Doctor and the American publishers, on that subject.
On congratulating a friend on her birthday, he made some beautiful and appropriate reflections on the hilarity which such occasions give rise to; but, on forgetting the precise day, while be remembered the month, he observed, that he wished her an Asiatic benediction, which was, "May your shadow be extended for ever!" and which he thus interpreted; -- "May you have plenty for yourself, -- and power, influence, and wealth, sufficient to protect and foster others:" subjoining, -- "Let any of your friends go rationally farther, and I will try to send at least my wishes and prayers farther, and thus not permit any of them to outstrip me."
Circumstances having occurred to induce the Doctor to request the writer to pay another visit to Haydon Hall, a more ample opportunity than even the one just noticed was afforded, for the purpose of going over the literary and other treasures of which the owner of the residence had to boast: and here, without again drawing upon the reader's attention, a few remarks will close this part of the subject.
1. LIBRARY: (1.) Printed Works. To this, four rooms were appropriated, exclusive of a dressing room, which occupied the surplus stock. The Doctor was somewhat chary in admitting strangers into the MS. department, as he had found to his cost, that some of the MSS. had suffered injury by careless hands. In printed works, in folio, quarto, and octavo, et infra, there could not be less, on a rough calculation, exclusive of MSS., than from eight to ten thousand volumes: and this calculation is supported by the sale catalogue afterwards made, which embraced several lots not specified, as well as exclusive of works bequeathed to private friends, and others retained by the family. The shelves occasionally exhibited two or three editions of the same work, representing the proprietor in the light of a collector. Viewing the number of classic authors, especially those of Greece and Rome, in their original tongues, and also works in other languages, it might be pronounced to have been one of the most scholar-like private libraries of modern times, collected in the space of about fifty years, by the efforts of one single man, in far from affluent circumstances, and in a situation equally unfriendly, in consequence of frequent removals from place to place, to an accumulated stock. One thought could not but force itself on an ordinary observer, and that was, the small proportion, for the library of an English divine, of English theological writers. The works of some of our most popular divines, among general readers, were not to be found. Of sermons especially, there was next to a dearth. The secret of this was traced by the writer to the Doctor's own mode of sermonizing, which was dissimilar from that of most men, refusing to be led by either a national divinity or national prejudice. He was a child of liberty; he would submit to no fetters that the Bible itself did not impose. But, on glancing the eye along the shelves, the pure WORD of GOD was to be found, in its original tongues, and almost every other work, whether of criticism, history, or what else, that in any way tended to illustrate its pages. The fountain and the stream were seen in every direction; the latter not systematized in sermons and bodies of divinity, but in the tongues of the greatest scholars and most accurate critics. The owner of the lore never appeared before his auditors or readers, in the systematic trammels imposed by his countrymen -- in the shape and costume that characterized the generality of his compeers in the ministerial work, as cut out for them by their brethren and predecessors: his preaching partook of his library, and, like his commentary, was as unlike Benson's, Henry's, and others' -- each excellent in their way -- as it was possible to be. Drawing perpetually from the fountain head, from original classic authors, and from his own original intellectual resources, he was ever new, rich, bold, and varied. A few stray works had crept in among the mass -- such as Paine's "Rights of Man," Byron's "Don Juan," and "Rabelais," and a few on matrimony, which might have been spared; but it is possible that some of them might have found their way to the shelves, as much from accident as from choice, having been bought in lots, or through a desire to test the intellect and argument of the author, rather than to tolerate his errors, and which could not well be separated from their companions, till the time of weeding set in. How, with his slender means to start with, and his often comparatively straitened means at different periods of life, he became possessed of works of such value,  was matter of astonishment to many, and might be matter of curiosity to most. A solution seemed to offer itself in the following particulars:-- first, after he became an author, his pen often furnished him with the "needful:" secondly, he was always on the look out; and his itinerant life threw him often in the way of works, which, by a fixed residence, he would never have seen: thirdly, his talents and character procured him many friends, and he had works occasionally presented to him: fourthly, he was the warm friend of William Baynes, Bookseller, Paternoster Row; Baynes felt it, and was in some instances his publisher; and, being in the habit of visiting the continent, and purchasing largely, and often cheaply, valuable foreign works, he felt a pleasure in giving the Doctor the first chance of selection, without being at all exorbitant in his charges.
The careful and judicious purchases of forty or fifty years, with even moderate means, are sure to tell a tale in real value, as well as in magnitude: but still, it was in the rarity, rather than the number of the works, that the library was to be estimated.
(2.) Manuscripts. With the exception of a very few volumes, the whole of the manuscripts -- of which a historical catalogue was afterwards published, by the Rev. J. B. B. Clarke, the Doctor's youngest son, in a beautifully printed and embellished royal 8vo. volume, pp. 236, -were collected, as there stated, during occupations of unceasing and absorbing mental labor, peculiarly unfavorable to such an object; -- but a wise man's eyes wander into every part, and a watchful, and skillful collector can overcome all obstacles, and is capable of realizing almost incredible results. As no attempt had been made by the Doctor to form a collection with reference to particular portions of literature or science, no classification, of course, of the MSS. had been made, further than dividing them into European and Oriental, the subjects being so miscellaneous, that subdivisions, according to the contents of each manuscript, would have been inconveniently and uselessly numerous. Of these manuscripts, 625 in number, and some of them in two and three volumes, 281 were European, embracing, as to subject and language, Hebrew, Greek, Icelandic, Irish, French, Italian, &c.: comprising classics, grammars, vocabularies, missals, breviaries, versions, portions of, and commentaries on, the Scriptures; and others treating on alchemy, philosophy, theology, history, heraldry, poetry, &c. The Asiatic department was still more rich and varied: in addition to Hebrew and Greek manuscripts, there were others under several heads of Persian, Arabic, Syriac, Armenian, Singalese, Pali, Sanskrit, &c., &c.; comprising, with several of the others, as to their contents, -- in addition to alchemy, philosophy, history, poetry, theology, and versions of the Scriptures, -- astrology, medicine, tales and romances, Korans, law, &c. A more minute description of them may be subjoined in a note, collected from the "Historical and Descriptive Catalogue" already referred to, together with the advertisements connected with the sale, the writers of both of which had, in addition to their own skill in such matters, the minute inspection and experience of the Doctor for a guide. 
2. The MUSUEM. In the museum were to be found ancient monuments and mosaics; including an ancient Greek inscription to the memory of Tiberius Claudius Theophilus, the son of Tiberius Claudius Themistocles, of Besa; an ancient Greek inscription to the memory of Melanchomas, a priest; a curious and interesting Persian inscription, taken from Fort Amboor, then in the possession of Ryder Aly; the Extacy of St. Francis, a very curious mosaic; and a dead Christ attended by angels, executed in the Italian school of painting. To these may be added, a valuable collection of minerals, among which were found some rare specimens of metals, floors, and precious stones; -- a collection of coins, in gold, silver, and copper, including fine impressions of ancient and modern Greek, the upper and lower Roman empire, French, English, and other Europeans, a few coronation and oriental medals, a complete set of the zodiac rupees, &c.; -- a cabinet, containing a very large collection of red sulfur casts from the antique; -- Indian, Burmese, Egyptian, and Chinese idols and figures, in bronze, stone, and wood; -- numerous Chinese drawings and paintings; -- Hebrew rolls, Singalese and Persian MSS., apart from the collection already specified; -- several facsimiles of ancient charters, maps, and charts; -- an inlaid Florence table; -- a powerful five feet telescope, by Dolland; -- a capital sextant, by Jones; -- two magnets; -- au instrument to illustrate a series of lectures on mechanics , -- model of a steam carriage; -large compass, Hadley's quadrant, &c.  To be allowed to go through such collections, with the Doctor himself by the side of the curious inquirer, accompanied with -- comments, illustrations, historical facts, characteristic notices, and occasional piquant remarks, was no common privilege.
The Doctor, being anxious at this time to carry out his plans in reference to the Irish schools, left London for Ireland, March 24; taking Bruerton, in Staffordshire, on his, way, and preaching successively at Stafford, Burslem, and Woodside, across the Mersey, at Liverpool. He entered on board the Chieftain steam-packet, in company with his friend F. H. Holdcroft, Esq., April 8, and, after a voyage of seventeen hours, landed on the pier at Belfast. After preaching in the chapel at Donegal Square on the 10th, he proceeded to Antrim, and thence to Coleraine, Port Stuart, Port Rush, Cashel, Croagh, Billy, Diamond, Tobercarr, Ballyclare, and other places, where schools were either established or proposed, minutely examining the necessities of the places, and frequently preaching to the people. His labor was unusually severe, and his mode of traveling, in one of the open Irish jaunting cars -- playfully denominated by him, "Jumping cars, or bone-setters," was far from agreeable; especially taken in connection with the colder season of the year. He hoped, in the early part of his labor, to be able to embody, at least, 600 poor children, arranged in six different schools, under able and excellent teachers. His plan was, to travel over hill and dale to the most destitute places, in districts of several miles in extent, in which not a school of any kind existed, or had ever been known to exist, and where, on canvassing the places, "the poor people," in his own language, "both popish and Protestant, were, like true sons of Erin -red hot -- mad -- glad -- to hear that their children might, without money and without price, be taught to read, spell, and write their own names; and where they at last found, that there was neither religion, devotion, nor common sense, in sheer IGNORANCE:" continuing, "Charter schools, Kilkenny schools, Methodist missionary schools, Hibernian schools, &c., if they ever came where these districts are, like the priest and Levite, they might have looked on, but they passed by on the other side." On unfolding his design, the people generally expressed an ardent desire to have a school. A day was then fixed to meet the parents and children, who, at the appointed time, were seen streaming down the hills and over the bogs, from two to three miles distant -- east -- west -- north -- and south. The fathers of the children were rarely present, being engaged at home, planting potatoes. The place of meeting being as central as possible, the Doctor first addressed the mothers, not one in a hundred of whom had a bonnet, and most without either shoes or stockings. His prime object was to impress them with the importance of EDUCATION; showing them the necessity of being able to read the Scriptures, and that the object before them was, to teach the children to fear God, to forsake lying, swearing, fighting, &c., to keep the sabbath, to reverence and obey their parents, to be grateful to their benefactors, and so, by industry and frugality, be able to procure honest and wholesome bread, and become useful and respectable members of society. He next turned to the children, and gave them suitable advice, urging upon them good behavior, punctuality, and cleanliness. That being ended, he introduced to their notice the teacher, whom he took the precaution to have decently clothed, telling them, that he would teach them to fear God, read, write, and cipher, free of cost. When these preliminaries were fixed, he then admitted the children into the school, laid his hands -- in true apostolic style -- on their heads, blessed them, prayed with them, and gave them some parting advices; the whole of the children dispersing with the understanding, that they would have to meet the next morning, precisely at nine o'clock. In this way, on one occasion, he admitted 133 children into school, from four to fourteen years of age, not one of whom had, like most of their parents, either shoe or stocking; and it must not be omitted, that this was sometimes done in the open air.
In one place, a dissenting minister employed his influence with the vicar, to root the Wesleyans out of the parish: the worthy vicar, instead of yielding to his persuasions, stated his determination to encourage them, and paid the Doctor a friendly visit. Being a man of an amiable temper, and having a sweet voice, he read to the Doctor some of his poetical compositions, and sang him some of his verses; to each of which as much complacency was shown, in consequence of the kindly feeling manifested towards the schools, as for the poet and the songster. The Doctor, after nine weeks absence from home, landed from the Hibernia steampacket, at Liverpool, on Whit Sunday, May 22nd.
A little caution was necessary, in order to prevent jealousy from creeping into a quarter from which he was anxious to steer clear, and in connection with which it was his desire to move in harmony. Previously to this, the Wesleyan Missionary Society had established schools in Ireland, and it having been reported that he had solicited subscriptions from various friends, fear was excited lest the one should impoverish the resources of the other; the consequence of which was, that a Resolution was entered into by the Missionary Committee, directing the attention of the Conference to the subject, which resolution was submitted to the Doctor by Dr. Townley, one of the General Secretaries. On showing the writer Dr. Townley's letter and his reply to it, Doctor Clarke observed, "Up to this time, only three persons have contributed; from no one have I, as yet, solicited a single fraction; and to one of the three persons, whom I never saw, and never may see, I wrote expressly, to inquire whether the money appropriated to the Schools, would, in any shape, have been given to the Methodists, and the answer was explicit -- No!" He further remarked, that he had taken the precaution to write to Mr. Harpur, the superintendent of the circuit, to inquire whether the Committee had established any Schools in the contemplated districts; and that the reply was, that the School Committee had never visited those districts, in consequence of a want of funds. He gave the teachers, who were all local preachers, £25. per annum: they' deserved much more, he remarked, but as it was somewhere about the amount given by the Committee, he did not wish to throw a temptation in the way of any one, to leave his situation for the sake of greater emolument.
Having a strong desire to see the Schools again, and give all the aid in his power in order to their encouragement and establishment, he left home in the month of August to pay them another visit. But on reaching Liverpool, he was dissuaded by his friends from going; they urging as so many arguments in support of their entreaties, his own state of health, the sudden illness of some of the party that had engaged to accompany him, and the tempestuous state of the weather, during which storm, and on the same coast, "The Rothsay Castle" was lost, with the greater number of persons on board. In his own language, therefore, he had to "put his helm a-lee, and seek providential direction on another tack."
The Conference was at this time holding its annual meeting in Bristol, and made him a Supernumerary much against his will; in reference to which act he forwarded a remonstrance to the President; observing, "I am not clear that I should become a Supernumerary this year; but this I must leave with my brethren. I did not go out of my own accord; I dreaded the call, and I obeyed through much fear and trembling, not daring to refuse, because I felt the hand of God mighty upon me: I knew the case of Jonah, and feared the transactions of Tarshish. I WILL NOT, THEREFORE, SET MYSELF DOWN; for though I cannot do full work, yet I can do some. I was a local preacher when called out: I am not called to DEGRADE, in order to read for a higher title than that which I have; and a Levite past labor becomes a counselor, but never enters into the ranks of the Nethinim!" When the Doctor employed the expression -- "I must leave this with my brethren," it is not to be construed into the language of acquiescence; but as one man must always yield to a hundred. That he did not wish to be made a Supernumerary, and never considered himself as such, is evident from the fact of his having not only refused the supernumerary allowance -- though he had subscribed to the Fund from the commencement -- but, when the money was sent to him (which is always done in advance) having returned it to the Conference: stating that he had done without it long, and he hoped he would be able to do without it to the end. The unpleasant feeling occasioned, however, was not allowed to settle on his mind; and on a friend adverting to it afterwards, and expressing his surprise that he took it so patiently, the Doctor laughingly replied, -- "I am like Pontius Pilate, -- ask, What is truth? and go away without waiting for, or hearing an answer."
Referring to Scripture reading one day, he said, "I began to read the Old and New Covenants in January, 1830, in the two languages in which they were written: the Hebrew, I collated with an old English Translation; the Greek, I read alone, and every word aloud, to accustom myself to speak it regularly and correctly, -- for the facility of speaking either it, or any other language, would be soon lost without this. I defy any one to pronounce any language properly, who only reads by the eye. I thought it might be the last year I might be permitted to go through again with the book of God; and, if so, I would take my leave of it in full. Some days I read two chapters in the Old Testament, and one in the New. On other days I could not do so much; but there were some, in which I could do more, and read four or five. This got me a little beforehand when I had to travel. At the Conference of 1830, I was a little back; but as I rose early, I accomplished the whole in the course of the year, in the midst of traveling, preaching, writing, and other employment."
His pulpit exercises were now almost exclusively confined to "Occasional Sermons;" and among other places, he visited in the autumn, West Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, where he was hospitably entertained by Mr. Charles Pinhorn. As he rarely spoke to any one in the vestry, before preaching, or even on his way to the house of God, it was not uncommon to see a crowd of persons waiting his descent from the pulpit to shake hands with him -- one passing away to make room for others that pressed around him.
Towards the close of the year, he devoted part of his time in adding to his already collected materials for a second edition of the "Wesley Family," and had his collection enriched with various papers presented to him by Miss E. T. Tooth, and others.
On the 30th of December, he thus expressed his views and feelings on public affairs to the Rev. T. Smith, Classical Tutor of Masbro' College: "The year closing, 1831, has been to me the most eventful and trying of my life; -- without, fightings; and within, fears, -- often unmingled with hopes. Yet, in the whole of its course, you have been present to my. mind; and the welfare of yourself, your family, and your flock, have been the root and blossom of many a fervent desire. It seems that the agitation which is universal in the world, in relation to secular and political affairs, is only an external manifestation of that inward and personal agitation by which all individuals, of all society, whether religious or social, have been exercised. Danger, want, discontent, disease, disappointment, evil and foolish surmising, cruelty and oppression, have each got a separate personification; and with a fulness of purpose, and a fearful exertion of power, have pervaded all ranks, and are continuous in their exertions to confound, and ultimately destroy, all that is civil, social, and religious. I might have included murder in the above list, for such a tissue of domestic murders in a state, which one might say is more than civilized, has not so extensively stained the pages of any history. Vice, crime, and misery increase; and genuine, sober, practical religion, does not, in my opinion -- to use an American term -- progress. If, through mercy, we cannot yet say, 'Abroad the sword devoureth,' we are obliged to acknowledge, 'At home there is death.' Our own country is far from being settled; and as for Ireland, I think there is every appearance either of a successful rebellion, or the extirpation of its inhabitants. A few men have frenzied the public mind, have the public conscience a keeping, and are incessant in instigating the people in their aggregate body of millions to deeds of darkness. Our nobility, proh dolor! have ceased to be wise, and our hierarchy seems to have committed a felo de se, and when the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do! Yet all may end well, if 'God rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm.' What wretched work against all religion and common sense at a famous chapel in London!  Oh, what is man, when God throws the reins of rational and religious restraint on the neck of the imagination! But that is only a slight symptom of the diseased state of general feeling. The Lord reigneth, be the earth never so unjust; and although clouds and darkness are round about him, yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne."
The feelings excited by a contemplation of the spirit of the times, were not much alleviated when carried into the circle in which he himself more immediately moved; being called upon to sympathize with the living, and lament the death of three of his friends in January, 1832, -- Mr. William Baynes, Bookseller; the Rev. Thomas Roberts, M. A., Bristol; and Robert Scott, Esq., Pensford; -- each of whom, which was no small stay to the soul, died in the full triumph of faith. Of Mr. Baynes, he was wont to say, that he knew a book, or a curiosity at a glance, without being acquainted with its exact character; that he had rarely ever found him deceived in his estimate of what he judged to be intrinsically good; and that his tact, as well as his laborious knowledge, served him, and made him the best old bookseller in London. On returning home, after praying with, and taking his leave of Mr. Baynes, he was overturned in the coach, near Harrow, -- the night being foggy, and the coach without lamps. The coach was full of passengers outside, and had one more than the complement within. The whole of the luggage and outside passengers were projected into the ditch; the pole was broken, the windows smashed, and the coach side staved in. The Doctor was much trampled upon while in the coach, and lay about ten minutes, with three persons upon him, before he could be extricated from his perilous situation; after which he had to stand about an hour in the rain and the mud, before he could leave the place. He then took his carpet bag in his hand, and walked from the "Swan" over the hill to Harrow, where he knocked at a door, and was refused admittance, though he gave his name; and thence to Pinner, where he met with kindness, and an open conveyance which took him to Haydon Hall. The next morning he received the tidings of Mr. Scott's illness; and, shook and bruised as he was, took, at the earliest convenience, a coach for Bristol, and thence to Pensford, where he watched over his dying friend, till he entered the paradise of God.  He died in the eighty-fifth year of his age; and of his death, the Doctor remarked, "I would not have missed this sight for a great deal! I seemed to have gone thither in order to learn how to die." While at Pensford, he was requested to preach the funeral sermon of his friend Mr. Roberts, but was unable, in consequence of a severe cold caught on the evening on which he was overturned in the coach.
Before he returned home, he had occasion to address a letter to his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, for the part which his Royal Highness had taken in the course of the preceding year, in stemming the torrent of political corruption, and availed himself of the anniversary of his Royal Highness's birth-day for the purpose.
In the month of February, he received a pressing letter, signed by order and on behalf of the Board of Managers of the Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church of New York, dated Dec. 23, 1831, inviting him to visit the continent of America, to assist in their Missionary labors, and in their Church Assembly. He expressed, in his reply to Doctors and Messrs. J. Emory,
B. Waugh, J. Bangs, T. Hall, and G. Suckley, his cordial good wishes for that rising state, and for the honor conferred upon him by the invitation; but regretted -- though he had long waited for a Providential opening to visit America, that age, infirmity, and various engagements which he stood pledged to fulfill, prevented him from acceding to their wishes, as well as gratifying his own desires. Among other topics embraced in his letter of reply, he stated; "There is no danger so imminent, both to yourselves and to us, as departing from- our original simplicity in spirit, in manners, and in our mode of. worship. As the world is continually changing around us, we are liable to be affected by these changes. We think, in many cases, that we may please well-intentioned men better, and be more useful to them, by permitting many of the more innocent forms of the world to enter into the church; wherever we have done so, we have infallibly lost ground in the depth of our religion, and in its spirituality and unction. I would say to all, keep your doctrines and your discipline, not only in your church books and society rules, but preach the former without refining upon them -- observe the latter without bending it to circumstances, or impairing its vigor by frivolous exceptions and partialities." He had a holy jealousy on this subject; and the following conversation, in a social party at which the writer was present, will develop more fully some of his views and feelings respecting it:--
Mr. Bromley. -- "What was the Doctor's text this morning?"
Mr. S. -- "This is a faithful saying," &c.
Dr. C. -- "Yes," pleasantly, yet in the form of a quiet rebuke, "but not in the old way; the sermon bore no resemblance to your old, thread-bare, commonplace mode of preaching on the text."
Mr. S. -- "The congregation was very large, highly respectable, and there was strong feeling during the sermon."
Dr. C. -- "I thought once, they were all about to be converted." Mr. B. -- "How does it happen, Doctor, that extraordinary, and sudden conversions, are not so frequently among us as formerly? I scarcely ever hear of any good being done now under my ministry; and there was a time, when I rarely. went out into the circuit without seeing souls converted to God; and I think I preach as well, now as ever I did."
Dr. C. -- "I cannot tell what the reason is, but most assuredly something is radically wrong. You preach the truth, and preach it as well as ever. Perhaps the doctrine -of the Witness' of the Spirit, and that of Deliverance from all Sin, are not so insisted upon as they once were. If something were not materially wrong, God would not withhold success. 1 have perceived one thing -- a visible study to bring the world into - the church:, it appears in ornamented chapels, organs, &c., &c. I 'did not like the chanting of that solemn hymn, when I preached in; it was aping a fallen church. I know I am an old man, and may be accused of the petulance of age; but trust an old man for once: if we bring the world into the church, we turn the Spirit out!" Here he quoted a very beautiful couplet, expressive of the experience and authority of age, which was answered by a couplet from Pope's Homer, by--
Mr. B. -
"cool age advances, venerably wise, Turns on all hands, its deep discerning eyes."
Dr. C. -- "I do not wish to say you are a fallen church; there is a redeeming principle in Methodism yet. My heart is with you; and when my spirit has passed away, -- if God permits, -- it shall return, and be a stirring spirit among you again. But it is evident there is a failure somewhere."
Mr. B. -- With his hat in his hand, -- "You must let me go, or before I reach home, I shall think I am going to be lost."
Dr. C. -- "And I will go to my bed-side and pray that I may not be lost."
Mr. B. -- "And so will I, Doctor Clarke. Farewell!"
Doctor Clarke was no croaker; but like an affectionate father, his love was mingled with holy fear. Speaking of the agent of a friend of his, who had to draw £19,000 out of a concern, and of whom he entertained but an indifferent opinion, he remarked, "Mr. S. thinks, I dare say, that he can see the sun, moon, and seven stars, all clearly shining from the bottom of Mr. D., and letting in light from thence to his soul, and there is no shaking his confidence; but he will find him to be unsound to his cost."
The month of February was more than usually distinguished for correspondence, engagements, and introductions. Among other particulars that might be noticed, he renewed his acquaintance with Dr. Southey, the Poet-Laureate, -- attended a Levee or Conversazione of His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, where he was introduced to the notice of, and had conversations with, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London and Chichester, Professor Lee, the famous Rani mohun Row, surrounded by Foreign Ministers, Lords, Chief Functionaries, Learned Foreigners, &c., and occupied different pulpits, in preaching occasional sermons.
Looking abroad on public affairs, he observed to the biographer, March 9th, "The Reform Bill is still pending: it has not yet passed the Lords, so far as I have heard; and I begin to entertain serious doubts, whether it will not again be thrown out by the Lords. Then we shall have a change of Ministers, and every soul for the worse. Those we have now, are badgered by the unprincipled part of the opposition -- the Borough mongers and their creatures; so that we may well believe they (the ministers) will be glad to back out of such miserable harness, and seek quiet and life elsewhere. I thought, however, it was a good omen to see' at Kensington Palace the other evening, the chief of the Bishops, such as Canterbury and London, and several of the opposition Lords and Commons; as well as the Ministers, and several of their friends: and, by a CARD, which I received two days ago from his Royal Highness, I am invited to the Palace to a similar meeting on the 24th instant, May 19th, and June 9th. The Duke is well known to be strongly on the Ministerial side; and, I say in my heart, would all these men, with opposite sentiments, meet thus together, to shake ' the hand of friendship, if still determined to continue opposed to each other on the great question?" In the course of this month, the Doctor, agreeably to a promise made to Doctor Hawes, preached a sermon in behalf of the Royal Humane Society, for which occasion City Road Chapel was obligingly lent by the Trustees.
April 9th, he gave the following summary of some -of his more public engagements: "The Missionary Secretaries are in want of help for their coming Anniversary, and have come in the most earnest and affectionate manner to me, begging me to help them. I have at once submitted, though it is likely to throw work upon me, which I shall scarcely be able to bear. I had been previously engaged to Birmingham and Sheffield; I must now be at Birmingham on the 22nd and 23rd, -- return back to London, for Queen-Street, on the 27th, and Southwark on the 29th: then set off for Sheffield, where I must be May 5th and 6th; and get, if I can, to Belfast, or Donagadee on the 12th. I am in an indifferent state of health; and there is too much reason to believe, that all this traveling and preaching, coming so close together, will overset me." His journey to Birmingham, two services on the Sabbath day, five hours at the public meeting on the Monday, traveling the whole of the Tuesday, and a two hours' walk in the rain to reach the coach, with intervening labor, but ill prepared him for the Annual Sermon at Great Queen Street, in the metropolis, on the Friday: there, however, he appeared, and a divine unction attended the word. On the Sunday, he was so much exhausted, that he found it difficult to go through the service at Southwark. Connected with this Service was the baptism of four children, one of whom was Susannah, the daughter of Dr. Beaumont -- supposed to be the last child Doctor Clarke baptized in England. The sermon was not delivered with his usual freedom; but at the font, in his own language, "the remaining spark burnt out afresh." With a countenance, radiant with inward light and hallowed feeling, and a strength of voice unheard in the sermon, he held up the child, with his eyes directed to heaven, saying, "We receive an immortal into the church of Christ;" accompanying the same with an overwhelming address to the parents and to the audience. Though he said but little at the public meeting at Exeter Hall, the material of his speech was of such a character, that he was importuned by the Secretaries to allow it to be published. His labors at Sheffield were exceedingly, heavy -- even distressing, but unusually beneficial.  He seemed, on the morning of the public breakfast, in Carver-Street vestry, as if beatified. On retiring, as he walked down the room, he was heard singing, and the last word that died upon the ear of the company was -- "Hallelujah, hallelujah." From Sheffield, he proceeded to Bruerton and Stafford, at both of which places he preached; and from the former of which he started for Liverpool, May 18th, where he arrived on the same day, and entered on board the Corsair steam-packet, and sailed for Ireland, -- arriving at Donaghadee at five o'clock next morning, after "a pleasant passage of fifteen hours." Though he was attacked with spasms at Liverpool, he was perfectly free when he reached Ireland; but otherwise extremely feeble.
Persecution raged at this time at Jamaica; in reference to which he remarked, -- "I see that there is a flame kindled in our inheritance, and I feel that I am needed: the terms in which Mr. James speaks of my services, as he calls them, are affecting. I shall pocket and seal up all my causes of complaint; join myself even to the forlorn hope, at the front of the storming party, and mount the breach for the God of Armies in the defense of his people!" In this spirit of self-sacrifice he consecrated his remaining strength, mental and physical, to the advancement of the general work, the Shetland Missions, and the Irish Schools.
He continued at Donaghadee from May 19th to June 2nd; during which time he was able only to preach twice: once at Donaghadee, and once at Newton Ards. He observed to his friend, Mr. Forshaw, -- "When I left Liverpool, I was poorly; I have since been very ill. You know when a 'man totters he may easily be thrown off his center of gravity: I was tottering when I came here, and now I am thrown down." He took cold, had a rheumatic seizure in his face, an attack of gout in the foot, and was seriously affected in his bowels. Medical aid , was called in, and he was confined within doors, and partly to bed, in the house of the Rev. E. Harpur, where he observed, " even angels could not show me greater kindness." Having experienced a slight improvement, he proceeded to Belfast, June 2nd, and preached with great difficulty in the chapel, in Donegal Square, the day after. On the 4th, he took coach for Antrim, where he remained with his friend, the Rev. A. M.; to whose niece, Miss E. M. Loriman, he wrote on the 6th, from Coleraine: "You know pretty well in what state I was, when I left you yesterday morning; and it will not Surprise you to hear, that I grew much worse on the way; indeed, I suffered much; and by the time I got to Ballymena, was scarcely able to proceed any further." At Coleraine, he domiciled with his hospitable friend, Mr. M'Alwaine. But up to the 17th, he had to remark to the friend whom he left at Antrim; -- "I have been laid up ever since I came here, and have not yet even seen Port Stuart. Last night I received a dismal letter, written from the Swan Hotel, Birmingham, stating, that my son, Theo., who had come off to see me, and take me home,' had been overturned in the coach: his right arm wounded, and his right thigh 'much bruised; and that he is now at the above Inn, and employed a person to write for him, as his wounded arm prevented him! I wrote back by the same post, stating that I should set off immediately, and stop nowhere till I got over the channel. I cannot get off tomorrow, as unfortunately, there is no conveyance from this place to Belfast. I have been once out on the car, but worn out by the fatigue. I am far from fit to undertake such journeys and voyage. The Packet 'that I wish to go by, sails on Tuesday at one o'clock: the other does not sail till Thursday." Though he had conversations with the teachers of his Schools, he was unable to visit them in person: the accounts, however, were highly satisfactory. He insisted on the Bible being the grand school-book. He was averse to the Government plan of leaving the Bible out of the schools, which he considered to have been proposed merely to conciliate the Roman Catholics.
Such was his state of health, that he was able to occupy the pulpit only twice, while at Coleraine -- on the 10th and 17th; which place he left on the 20th, slept on his way at Antrim, and reached Belfast on the 21st. His inability to fulfil his mission in Ireland. respecting the schools, the accident which had befallen his son, and his own sufferings and prostration of strength, combined with the desolating spread of the cholera, exercised an unusually painful influence upon his otherwise unflinching spirit, though still preserved from "dread." The latter, taken in connection with the disordered state of his bowels -- naturally tender, as he once observed to the writer -- led him to remark -- a remark in which he felt a deep interest, -- "I find that the cholera is got to Liverpool, and a universal terror has struck the hearts of the people: all have lost their confidence and courage, and consequently are more likely to receive than to resist the infection." After a rough passage on board the Chieftain steam-vessel, with heavy rain and the wind right a-head, he reached Liverpool on the 22nd, when he crossed the Mersey, and took up his abode at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Forshaw. He should have preached on Sabbath 24th, but his disorder increasing, he "could neither walk nor stand." Here he remained a few days, experiencing often much pain from the inflamed state of his foot, with his ear ever open to the dreadful ravages of the cholera; observing, on one occasion, -- "I have not strength to fly from the plague: I resign myself to the Sovereign of heaven and earth; He can keep me from the pestilence that walketh in darkness, as well as the destruction that wasteth at noonday."
He left Mr. Forshaw's on the 30th, for Worcester; Stating, "In leaving Liverpool, I thought I had left the cholera behind me; but when I came to Chester, I found it had got there before me; we drove on to Wrexham, and there also was the cholera. My lame foot I wrapped in a wad of straw; it soon got very warm, and continued so the whole day, consequently, the intense jaculating pain was prevented." He reached the house of his son-in-law, Mr. James Rowley, about five o'clock, much exhausted; and, July 2nd, arrived at Haydon Hall, where he heard of his son's (Theoderet) greatly improved state, and found the other part of the family in health. The change in his appearance made a deeply painful impression on the family.
July 6th, he wrote to the biographer, giving a detailed account of his journey and of his sufferings, evidently a memoriter transcript from his journal; observing, "On reaching Worcester, I began to get increasingly unwell, took the coach for next morning at six o'clock, and got to Uxbridge at half-past five p. m.; left the coach, and could get no other conveyance than a pony. chaise, without apron, foot-cloth, or cover; was exposed to the evening- air, got to Eastcott, became almost worse than I had yet been, with new complaints; and here I lie, very helpless, but with the hope of getting better. During my whole stay at Coleraine, I was not able to do one stroke of work I went there to perform, but had incessant suffering from that to this hour. How mysterious is all this! While at Liverpool, the friends pressed me much to attend the Conference. I believe they were quite sincere -- and they begged me to stay while I was in the neighborhood; and I even thought of returning, but I think my health will not suffer me."
Though urged not to go to Conference by Mrs. Clarke, he observed afterwards, that he had duties yet to perform in reference to Shetland and the Irish schools; and besides, he earnestly wished to leave his testimony for God and Methodism once more in the midst of his brethren. That TESTIMONY was strikingly given to a friend, while at Conference, just one month before his death, and left, as if designed by Providence, as a monument of his faith and affection:
"In perpetuam rei memoriam. I have lived more than threescore years and ten; I have traveled a good deal, by sea and by land; I have conversed with and seen many people, in and from many different countries; I have studied all the principal religious systems in the world; I have read much, thought much, and reasoned much; and the result is, I am persuaded of the simple, unadulterated truth of no book but the Bible; and of the excellence of no system of religion but that contained in the Holy Scriptures! and especially CHRISTIANITY, which is referred to in the Old Testament, and fully revealed in the New. And, while I think well of, and wish well to, all religious sects and parties, and especially to all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, yet, from a long and thorough knowledge of the subject, I am led most conscientiously to conclude, that Christianity itself, as existing among those called Wesleyan Methodists, is the purest, the safest, and that which is most to the glory of God and the benefit of man; and that, both as to the creed there professed, form of discipline there established, and the consequent moral practice there vindicated. And I believe, that among them is to be found the best form and body of divinity that has ever existed in the Church of Christ, from the promulgation of Christianity to the present day. To him who would ask, 'Dr. Clarke, are you not a bigot?' without hesitation I would answer, 'No, I am not; for, by the grace of God, I am a Methodist.' Amen. -- ADAM CLARKE."
He only asserted for himself, in this strong language, what he ceded to others, -- every man preferring his own religious community and creed to those of others; thinking, however, "well of, and wishing well to," ether sections of the Christian Church.
Addressing another friend, July 25th, he observed, "It appears to me, that my public work is nearly done; at least my labor must terminate. But I have the satisfaction to know, that I have not rusted out, but worn out. And there is a better satisfaction than even this, -- that I have neither worked nor labored in vain."
He evidently had a presentiment of his approaching dissolution: while at Coleraine, he settled all his affairs with the bank, relative to the schools; and on the 27th of July, he delivered up the Shetland mission to the Conference, which was to be received into the missions. He gave up also the £3,000 of his trustship for the Shetlands, which he held under the will of Robert Scott, Esq., and the £400. which he received from the Hon. Sophia Ward. These acts were closed by offering the Irish Schools to the School Committee.
A vote was passed unanimously, that he should preach before Conference, in place of the Ex-President, on Sunday morning, 29th. To this he strongly objected on the ground of health; but a repetition of the vote, and the importunity of his brethren, overcame him. His text was Gal. vi. 15. There was a large attendance of preachers, and an overflowing congregation. He apologized for not being better prepared, having been absolutely forced into the pulpit. He proceeded in his usually perspicuous way, explaining that by the "circumcision" the Jews were meant, and by the "uncircumcision" the Gentiles, -- comprehending the whole Gentile world. By the "new creature," or, as it might have been translated, "new creation," was meant the Christian dispensation, which he forcibly explained and enforced by embracing two parallel passages: the first exhibiting obedience to the commands of God; the second, "the faith that works by love;" the third the text -" a new creation." While dwelling upon one portion of his second general division, he made such an impression upon his hearers as had been rarely witnessed, except under his own ministry. He stated, that it was usual with the older divines, to distinguish faith into two parts, -- the faith of adherence, and the faith of assurance. It was the opinion of some, that the faith of assurance had not been enjoyed since the apostolic age. In his own country, he remarked, it was reported, that peculiarly holy men once obtained it by agonizing with God in prayer: but he could tell them that others than those in "olden times" had enjoyed it; that he himself, when a boy, wrestled with God in prayer for it; and that such was his agony of soul, that the spot on which he prayed, in the corner of a field, was like plowed ground, when he rose from his knees. He further remarked, that he was no sooner converted to God -- had no sooner become a "new creature" -- than he went through the villages and hamlets, telling the people what God had done for his soul. The report got spread, continued he, that "little Adam Clarke had obtained the faith of assurance." Here he burst forth in the most impassioned strain, -- "Yes, glory be to God! I had got it -- and, what is more, I still have it." The manner in which he uttered these expressions produced an overwhelming, electrical effect upon the audience. This was, indeed, a blessed "testimony" before the Church -- childhood and hoary age blending in the same person -- the one only a short remove from the cradle, and the other within a month of the coffin; for, on the evening of that very day month -- the Sabbath of God -forty minutes before the Sabbath was closed, the consecrating hand of his Maker was upon him, honoring him with a removal from one Sabbath to another, with scarcely a step between; enjoying, in full fruition, on the evening of the same day in heaven, the Sabbath of which he had experienced a foretaste upon earth in the morning. The sermon, as a whole, was not first-rate; but, as an opinion had become prevalent, that the Doctor had felt a slight alienation of spirit, some short time, from his brethren, in consequence of the treatment he had received from certain quarters, the testimony which he bore on the subject of personal piety, and the melting tenderness with which he preached, dissipated every doubt, and seemed to bind all in the bond of love, -- himself exhibiting the appearance of ripe fruit shaking from the tree, and about to be gathered into the garner of God. In this view, the sermon may be considered as important; and some of the materials embodied in it, as a key to the Doctor's state of religious feeling, and the fine spirit which he breathed towards his ministerial brethren, and especially the ruling part of them.
Looking at the Doctor in the vestry of Brunswick Chapel, the writer was deeply affected by his altered appearance: the venerable man perceived it; and in order to turn it off, grasped in his hand the front part of his waistcoat, which hung loosely round him, and said, "There was something here, which is not here now; but," he added, while directing his eye downward, "I feel most for my legs, which have supported me so long and so well: the one-half of them seems to have run away and left me."
At Mr. Comer's, at dinner, he seemed to catch the spirit which he displayed in the vestry, and was more than cheerful -- even playful. The etymology of names being noticed: his own, he said, was no doubt from a clerk -- a writer; "Mr. Clough's," continued he, "from a dingle or a thicket; and as for Mr. Taylor," looking across the table, and laughing, "if he had been the trade of his forefathers, he ought to have been elevated on a table, rather than by its side."
The writer having to leave for Manchester, the Doctor agreed to call upon him, August 1, on his way to Reddish House, Stockport; which he accordingly did, in company with the Rev. Benjamin Clough; when an engagement was made to spend the next day at Mr. Smith's, in company with Mr. Bromley, Mr. J. Campion, of Whitby, and others.
Finding, as he expressed himself, that there was no "knotty business" likely to be brought before the Conference, he signified his wish to leave before the close of its sittings; assigning as a reason, not only his state of health, but the desire he had to be with his family during the ravages of the cholera. "God," said he, "is visiting this nation; he is visiting this town, which has become a place of death; he has long had a reckoning with us as a land: we are in the midst of disease; it is in the metropolis; my house will be filled with children; there is no barricading the house against the scourge; I must go and be with them." Let this be connected with a now, mysteriously singular, and almost prophetic remark, at Reddish louse. The cholera was the subject of conversation; and the case of Mrs., wife of the Rev. J. Hickling being mentioned, who had painful apprehensions of the disease, but was delivered in prayer, by the application of a text of Scripture to her, which she took as a revelation from God, confidently observing, that she would never be visited by the malady. A part of the text was uttered, and the remainder not being correctly quoted by the speaker, the Doctor being familiar with the passage, took it up, and said, "A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee," &c. (Ps. xci.) The Doctor knowing the impositions which many well-meaning persons practice upon themselves, and being averse withal, to any thing like daring confidence in a world where so many casualties are constantly turning up to endanger life -- and evidently finding himself in the presence of an awful power -- a tremendous scourge, in fact, which, from its mysterious movements, gave promise of security to no one person, in whatever place, season, or climate, and which God, without the least infringement on either justice or mercy, might employ as his marksman either in the church or in the world, said, "Mrs. H. may have such an impression, and she may believe she has been told so, but this I know, that God hath not so spoken to me." This sentence, up to the time of his death, was like a suspended blow -- the hand being invisible that menaced it, and it was only afterwards, that its full weight was felt upon the spirits -- reverencing it the while, and hearing in it the voice, and seeing in his death, the hand of HIM in whom he stood in awe, and of whose dispensations he beheld himself the legitimate subject.
Conversation was maintained, at intervals, with great readiness and cheerfulness, and the Doctor appeared rallying from previous languor. Speaking of the human constitution, its changes, and the vis vitce, or principle of life, he entered largely into the subject, maintaining the principle of life to be the same in all creatures; and dexterously supported his position by an appeal to the writings of Moses, in his Notes on part of which he refers to the experiments of Dr. Hervey, subsequently improved by Dr. John Hunter, on the vitality of the blood -- grounding the whole on "The life of man is in his blood." Mr. B. adverted to the Scriptural fact, that our life is hid with Christ in God, with a view apparently to elicit further remark, and supported McKnight's view of the subject; to which the Doctor replied, "Our life, our being is hid with him, and preserved by him as the author and supporter of life: He has only to withdraw his hand, and we instantly sink." Then, recurring to the principle of life being the same in all, he laughed, and said, -- "It must be so: it may be said of this, as the old philosopher, who wished to establish a point, said of nature -' There is salt, sulfur, and mercury in every thing.'"
The communication of Colonel Nichols being named, on the destruction of the Slave Trade, the Doctor -- great an enemy as he was to slavery, yielded to the side of gradual emancipation; observing, "I was always for immediate emancipation, but the more I reflect on the subject, the more I am persuaded a just, slow, and sure emancipation is the best. The owners have a property in the slaves, such as it is, and we must be just before we are generous: the slaves want a preparation for liberty, and that will want a little time; and by doing it gradually, it will be sure, and therefore, more safe. I can answer all my former objections, and uproot all my former arguments." Mr. B. urged immediate emancipation. "I say so too," replied the Doctor, "if it can be done with safety and advantage to the slave: but of two evils, choose the least; of two sins, choose neither. Gradual emancipation appears to me the best; we do not gain what we wish by it; but we may as well have a mouse in the pot as no beef."
The subject of the cholera being adverted to again, he said, "Some persons characterize it as an epidemic spreading over the face of a district, or a country; for my part, I am disposed to look upon it as coming immediately down from above, like a volume of miasma:" and then, pausing, asked, "if that volume were to come down upon this town and neighborhood, who among us would be able to bear the tremendous pressure?" Though without any "dread," as he expressed himself, of the painful visitation, the tidings of its ravages, brought it frequently on the tapis; and be dwelt with tender interest on the death of the Rev. John Storey, who became a prey to its ravages.
The Doctor returned to Liverpool by way of Manchester, where the biographer left the carriage close by St. Peter's Church -- shook hands with him -- and saw him for the last time, August 2, about four o'clock in the afternoon.
Having engaged, at the earnest solicitation of his son, the Rev. J. B. B. Clarke, to attend a public meeting at Frome, convened in aid of the District Visiting Society -- a Society established through the instrumentality of his son, and patronized by all the constituted authorities of the town, the Marquis of Bath, the Earl of Cork, the Lord Bishop of the Diocese, the county representatives, and the clergy, the Doctor left the house of his friends Mr. and Mrs. Forshaw, Oakfield, on the Cheshire side of the Mersey, for that place, taking Worcester on his way, where he spent a night with his daughter, Mrs. Rowley, and her family, -- all of whom were well, though the cholera was within only a few doors of them. Next day he proceeded to Bath, and the day after to Frome; attending, in the latter instance, the public meeting, August 9, and preaching in behalf of the charity, in the Wesleyan Chapel, the Sabbath following; -- grounding his discourse on Acts xiv. 22. From Frome he proceeded to Weston, super Mare, with his son and family, where he domiciled with his old friends Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, of Bristol, who were there at the time for the benefit of the sea air. On Sunday morning, the 19th, he preached at Westbury. Several friends from Bristol were present on the occasion; and, among others, his brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas Exley, who was high in his praise of the sermon, when relating the circumstance to the writer. The Doctor was unusually animated, and a special influence attended the service. Monday, 19th, he proceeded to Bath, and thence to London, accompanied by Mr. Exley's son, who was to have accompanied him to Haydon Hall, to assist in arranging his philosophical and other apparatus, but was prevented from accomplishing the purpose proposed. Having slept at the house of his friend Mr. Hobbs, Bayswater, and visited his son, Mr. Theodoret Clarke, and his daughters, Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Hook, he left London, and reached his own house on the 22nd, about seven o'clock in the evening. Thursday and Friday, 23rd and 24th, are stated to have been devoted chiefly to the work of answering correspondents; the Shetland Mission and Irish Schools, occupying a due share of his attention. In family worship, he invariably referred to the cholera, by name, and prayed that the members might be preserved from its influence, and prepared for sudden death. Having engaged to preach at Bayswater on Sunday 26th, he left home on the Saturday, in company with Mr. Hobbs, who had arranged to convey him to London in his chaise.
In the early part of the evening, on his arrival at Bayswater, he was much fatigued; and, as the evening advanced, was unusually languid. On the Rev. Thomas Stanley, who followed him soon after into a world of spirits, and still more suddenly, requesting him to fix a time for a charity sermon, he replied, "I am not well; I cannot fix a time; I must see what God is about to do with me." At supper, he was silent, and his languor seemed to increase; partaking only of a little boiled rice. From the time of his leaving Bristol, his bowels had been considerably affected, bough free from pain, which was marked by him as somewhat unusual. He took some opening medicine, and retired to rest at an early hour; but the diarrhea increased upon him in the course of the night; and he was up earlier than usual in the morning. At six o'clock, Mr. Hobbs was called up, and on coming down stairs, saw the Doctor dressed, and ready to proceed home; saying to his kind host, -- "My dear fellow, you must get me home directly; without a miracle I could not preach; get me home, -- I want to be home," Mr. Hobbs, seeing his afflicted state, replied, "Indeed Doctor, you are too ill to go home, you had better stay here; at any rate the gig is not fit for you, I will go and inquire for a post chaise if you are determined to return to Eastcott Mrs. Hobbs, Miss Hobbs, and Miss Everingham, were roused, and immediately at hand: but ere this, he had sunk into a chair, in a state of exhaustion; and finding him very cold, a fire was instantly lit, and the three ladies proceeded to rub his hands and forehead, and afford him all the sympathetic aid within reach, till Mr. Charles Greenly, of Chatham, arrived, who had come to town the preceding evening, and who had professionally attended the cholera hospital in that place. Mr. Hobbs, in the meantime, called in a medical gentleman in the neighborhood; and both of the attendants pronounced the disease to be an attack of the cholera. He was too weak to be taken up stairs, and was conveyed to bed in an adjoining room. The Doctor's sons, Mr. John and Mr. Theodoret Clarke, were sent for, and arrived shortly after, the former accompanied by his cousin, Mr. Thrasycles Clarke, who had been many years a surgeon in His Majesty's Navy, and had frequently seen cases of cholera in the east. Dr. Wilson Philip was also sent for, who arrived about nine o'clock; and all the means which skill, experience, and attention could devise and employ, were used to arrest the progress of the disease -- but in vain.
"My dear Doctor," said Mr. Hobbs, with Christian tenderness, "you must put your soul into the hands of your God, and your trust in the merits of your Saviour." The faint reply was -- "I do -I do." On the Doctor's illness being announced to the congregation, which produced a most distressing sensation, Mr. Thurston left the chapel, and hastened to the house of Mr. Hobbs, when, on finding in the midst of the hurry and alarm, that Mrs. Clarke had not been sent for, he immediately proceeded to Haydon Hall, and returned with Mrs. Clarke to Bayswater, a little before four o'clock in the afternoon. On entering the room, the Doctor feebly extended his hand toward her; and on his daughter, Mrs. Hook, approaching him, he with equal feebleness opened his eyes, and strove to press his fingers on her hand. He spoke to his son Theodoret, in the morning, and asked, "Am I blue,?" fully alive apparently to the disease, its symptoms, and effects. And at noon again, when his son was moving from the bed side, asked with apparent anxiety, -- "Are you going?"
In the language of Mrs. Smith, the Doctor's daughter, from whose deeply affecting account of his last moments these remarks have been chiefly borrowed, "Dr. Wilson Philip again visited him in the afternoon; but Mr. Thrasycles Clarke and Mr. Greenly never left his room, nor relaxed their efforts to save a life they saw to be fast hastening away. The female members in this kind family forgot all personal risk in attending upon the affliction of one, who to them had been so often the minister of peace. His two sons chafed his cold hands and feet frequently in the day, and often stepped behind his head to lift him higher on his pillow. Hope did not abandon them, nor could Mrs. Clarke be brought to believe that death had made a sure lodgment, and that life was fast sinking under his power.
"From the first Doctor Clarke appeared to suffer but little pain: the sickness did not last long, and a slight degree of spasm which succeeded it had all passed away before eleven o'clock in the forenoon: but there was a total prostration of strength, and difficulty of breathing, which, as night advanced, increased so much, and proved so distressing to Mrs. Clarke, that she was obliged to be removed into the adjoining room.
"A few minutes after eleven, Mr. Hobbs entered the room where she was sitting, and in deep distress said, 'I am sure, Mrs. Clarke, the Doctor is dying.' She passed with him once more into the sick chamber, and said, 'Surely, Mr. Hobbs, you are mistaken, Doctor Clarke breathes easier than he did just now;' to which Mr. Hobbs, in strong emotion, replied, 'Yes; but shorter.' At this moment Doctor Clarke heaved a sob, and his spirit went forth from earth to heaven!
"The heart knows its own bitterness! but what can equal the anguish of that emotion which first tells the wife that she is a widow, and the children that they are fatherless? They feel its pang once -- to forget it no more!"
Just after the Doctor's death, Mrs. Smith, his daughter, found some quarto post paper, ruled, stitched, and covered, laid on the table, undisturbed, -- such as he was accustomed to write his sermons upon, when disposed to preserve them, as if he had intended to enter his views on the subject to which he purposed directing the attention of his hearers on the morning of the day on which he died, but was unable to proceed further than with the text; which was legibly written out; -- "Verily, verily, I say unto you, The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live." John v. 25. In sure and certain hope of a resurrection unto eternal life, he lived; and as he lived, so he died, twenty minutes after eleven o'clock at night, August 26, 1832, in the seventy second year of his age.
The funeral of this venerable man took place in the burying-ground behind the Wesleyan Chapel, City Road, London, on Wednesday, the 29th of August. The pulpit was covered with black cloth on the melancholy occasion. The hearse, which contained the body, accompanied by three mourning coaches, left the house of Mr. Hobbs', Bayswater, where he died, about twelve o'clock, and reached the chapel at one. By that time, though the day was exceedingly wet, and arrangements had been made to render the funeral strictly private, a great number of friends were assembled, waiting the arrival of the mournful procession.
The body, which had been closely soldered in a coffin of lead, on being taken from the hearse, was carried into the chapel, and rested near the door on supporters placed there to receive it. The Rev. Joseph Entwistle, who met the corpse, accompanied by all the preachers present, read the solemn service, and delivered a short address, which was concluded with prayer.
The grave in which the remains are interred, is next to the vault in which the ashes of Mr. Wesley molder in repose. It is about twenty feet deep, and in ground never before used; the coffin resting on a foundation of brick and cement, and, to give height, the sides and ends secured with masonry. When the body was consigned to the ground, all the relations were greatly affected; but none more so than Mr. John Wesley Clarke, Doctor Clarke's eldest son. In many parts of England, it is customary for the friends to drop a little earth upon the coffin. Guided by this custom, Mr. J.
W. Clarke held out his hand, apparently to receive some earth. This being given, he squeezed it for a moment, then put it to his lips, as in the attitude of kissing it, and, immediately dropping it on the coffin, burst into tears. Unknown to the spectators, that piece of earth enclosed something more valuable than itself. Mr.. J. Clarke, in the interim between the death and burial of his revered father, went to the separate members of the family, without apprising any one of his design, and cut a lock from the hair of his mother, brothers, and sisters, their children, &c., -- folded the whole in a small piece of paper, -- had that paper in his hand, and as the day was wet, the mold enclosed it, as he pressed it, and dropped it on the coffin; an interesting instance of filial affection! depositing a portion of himself and of the family, while yet living, in the tomb of a parent. Funeral Sermons were preached in several of the chapels on the occasion; some of which were published, as those delivered by the Revs. Messrs. H. Moore, J. Beaumont, W. France, J. Anderson, W. Tranter, P. Garrett, &c.
The great Robert Hall died in 1831; but death, in the year 1832, reaped, during the first eight months, a still mightier harvest of the illustrious dead. Ere the close of September, European Literature lost Goethe, Cuvier, Bentham, Mackintosh, Clarke, and Scott. Admired as Doctor Clarke was as a Preacher, he was still more eminent as a biblical annotator and scripture critic. His edition of the Bible, which has all the advantage of his vast Oriental learning, is a book of the highest reputation; nor less esteemed, in its place, is his Bibliographical Dictionary for its immense labor and research. It is not too much to say, that he was admired by men of all religious denominations for his profound knowledge, and mild unassuming deportment.
His views on all doctrinal subjects were substantially one with the body; and where any difference existed, they related to some abstruse points, on which it is folly to dogmatize, and still greater folly to cherish any ill feeling; for truth, justice, and freedom will eventually triumph. The very same persons, at different periods of life, may see reason to change their views. It were sad, indeed, if study and experience did not at all operate to correct the crude speculations and imperfections of youth. Little good can be secured, by allowing the light to enter by a small aperture, limited and obscured by a creed. It is only by opening and exposing the mind to the full beams of eternal Truth, that the soul will be warmed and expanded, and made capable of reflecting its image in our ordinary deportment. Bigotry and arrogance seem to be qualities inseparable from ignorance. Every true friend of the human race will pray for the diffusion of that heavenly light which increases a love of the truth; and, at the same time, enlarges and purifies the affections. It is a consolation to hope, that, in the various processes of providence, defects will be supplied and imperfections removed; and that the workings of the mind, and the circumstances in which we shall be placed, will conspire to produce perfect felicity.
The style of Doctor Clarke's preaching and writing, might not, on all occasions, please a fastidious taste and ear; but he was a messenger of the Most High to the people, and wrote and spoke in language they understood and did not fail to feel. The approbation of a few hypercritical readers and hearers was, to him, less than nothing, in comparison with the devout emotions of thousands of hearts led to the Saviour: this was a source of supreme contentment to his mind, and the memorials of his usefulness surround him now, and will, doubtless, increase so long as our language is known.
Concerning those who die in the faith of the Gospel, abundant sources of consolation open themselves to mourning survivors. The sounds of our lamentations may well be hushed by the voice from heaven; -- "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord -- henceforth they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them." The great lesson to be drawn from such afflictions, to the living, is -- to prepare for an eternal re-union, by the aid of the grace which sustained and crowned them, to overcome even as they overcame, and are now at the right bane! of the Father.
The departure of relatives, deepens the sadness of the mind; childhood and youth, and the domestic hearth encircled by joyous faces, cheerful by the promptings of joyous hearts, and the endeared parents, and the advices given, and the bright hopes cherished -- all rise and pass before us, as the visions of past enchant-meats -- as the paradise viewed from a bleak world, in which we once lived, but which we can no more enter thus pensive and despairing our meditations might well be, had we no means of looking forward to the future for scenes of friendship, happiness, and perfection. But even the hope of the coming glory not only supports, but elevates the soul above the mists and turmoil of earth; and if mere hope can effect so much, who can portray, or even conceive, the transports, or rather the serene and boundless felicity of actual enjoyments!
Christians, as they advance in years, gradually advance in their appreciation of the gospel; experience detects and exposes the worthlessness of objects which once seemed valuable and so abated the force of piety; and experience also discovers the inability of mere earthly objects to yield satisfaction. During the lapse of years, friends drop into the grave, and new ones are not easily made; the pleasures arising from uncertainty, so exciting during the period of youth, diminish with advancing years, and then we seek for something stable, on which the eye and heart and affections may rest amid coming vicissitudes and afflictions, and the prospect of death, and the revelations of the unseen world and the only rest which can be found, is in the simple truths of the gospel!
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