Lives of Illustrious Shoemakers Part 3

Bradburn felt his poverty in more ways than one. Wesleyan ministers were then but poorly paid, and men of his generous character, who found it easier to give to the needy than to economize and save, were often in great straits for funds. On his way down to Pembroke he was reduced to his last s.h.i.+lling, and, but for this meeting with Wesley at Brecon, might have found it an awkward matter to reach his destination. "Apply to me when you want help," said Wesley to his friend, and very soon proved his sincerity by prompt a.s.sistance when the young pastor made known his straitened circ.u.mstances. The following story is too good to be omitted. In reply to Bradburn's appeal Wesley sent the following short letter, inclosing several five-pound notes:

"DEAR SAMMY: Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.--Yours affectionately, JOHN WESLEY."

To which Bradburn replied:

"REV. AND DEAR SIR: I have often been struck with the beauty of the pa.s.sage of Scripture quoted in your letter, but I must confess that I never saw such useful expository notes upon it before.--I am, Rev. and dear Sir, your obedient and grateful servant, S. BRADBURN."

The year spent in South Wales was happy and prosperous, and the churches at Pembroke, Haverfordwest, and Carmarthen were greatly increased and well organized under the care of Bradburn and his colleague. By the Conference in 1776 he was sent to Limerick, and from thence, in four months, such was the severity of the strain upon his health, he was removed to Dublin. Here he had met, on first landing in Ireland, with the young lady who was afterward to become his wife. It was a case of "mutual admiration" and "love at first sight." Bradburn was a pa.s.sionate lover, and could ill brook the delay of two years which had to pa.s.s away before he took the beautiful Miss Nangle to his own home. In one of his anxious moods, when sick of love and hope deferred, he rose from his sleepless bed to pray for divine guidance and favor in regard to the serious business of courts.h.i.+p. It was his custom to pray aloud, and supposing his colleague, who occupied the same bed, to be fast asleep, he did not balk his prayer in this instance, finis.h.i.+ng a fervent appeal for divine direction with the simple words, "But, Lord, let it be Betsey." His bedfellow humorously responded, "Amen," and broke out into a hearty laugh at poor Bradburn's expense. John Wesley, who favored the match, and generously interceded in his friend's behalf, both with a much-dreaded stepmother and the fair one herself, conducted the marriage ceremony in the house of a friend. He had invited the bride and bridegroom-elect, and Mrs. Karr the stepmother, "to breakfast with him at Mrs. King's,[16] the morning after his arrival, being his birthday; as soon as she (Mrs. Karr) entered he began the ceremony and married us in the parlor. Pride would not let her affront Mr. Wesley, and she was forced to appear satisfied." "Wesley," says Bradburn's biographer,[17]

"more than once took up cudgels for his preachers when in difficulties of this kind, but not in such a summary manner."

[16] Bradburn's lodgings.

[17] "Life of Samuel Bradburn." By T. W. Blanshard. P.

68. Elliot Stock, 1870. A most interesting biography of the famous Wesleyan preacher.

Relegated to the Cork and Bandon circuit, he had a very trying time of it for about a year. One of his memoranda made at this time gives us a glimpse of his acquirements from his own common-sense point of view, for Bradburn was a thoroughly sensible and humble man, who never yielded to ignorant flattery of his pulpit eloquence, nor gave way, as some self-made men and popular preachers have done, to vanity and conceit.

Self-examination was with him a genuine business, conducted in a reverent spirit and an honest and altogether healthy fas.h.i.+on. By this means he came to know himself and act accordingly. Not many men in his position would have written so sensibly as this: "_Cork, March 31st_ (1779).--I have read and written much this month, but sadly feel the want of a friend to direct my studies. All with whom I have any intimacy, know nothing of my meaning when I speak of my ignorance. They praise my sermons, and consider me a prodigy of learning; and yet what do I know? a little Latin, a little philosophy, history, divinity, and a little of many things, all of which serves to convince me of my own ignorance!" At this time, and for many years after, he preached forty sermons a month, and sometimes fifty. Even if they were _all_ old sermons, which would not often be the case, how could a man so employed find time or energy for close and continuous study? The next four years are spent at Keighley, Bradford, and Leeds in Yorks.h.i.+re. When at Keighley he "travelled" for a time with Wesley, and had an opportunity of observing the way in which that sainted man wholly devoted his gifts, his time, and his money to the service of G.o.d and his fellow-men.

Wesley's stipend from the Society in London was 30 a year, but the sale of books, the generosity of the friends at Bristol, and occasional preaching fees and sundry legacies, brought his yearly income up to 1000 or 1200; yet he rarely spent more for himself than his meagre stipend, and regularly gave away _all the rest_. "Thus literally having nothing, he possessed all things; and though poor, he made many rich."[18] At Leeds, Bradburn was offered the pastorate of an Independent Church with a greatly increased salary, but the loyal Methodist refused the tempting offer. His next appointment was to Bristol, where he had the misfortune to lose his darling Betsey, who died of decline in her twenty-ninth year. His colleague had suffered a similar bereavement, and the stern yet tender-hearted Wesley, then in his eighty-third year, actually set off from London "in the driven snow"

to go down to Bristol and comfort the two sorrowing preachers. Bradburn did not long remain a widower. At Gloucester he met Sophia Cooke, "the pious and G.o.dly" Methodist to whom Robert Raikes of Sunday-school fame had spoken about the poor children in the streets, and asked her, "What can we do for them?" Miss Cooke replied, "Let us teach them, and take them to church!" The hint was acted upon, and Raikes and Miss Cooke "conducted the first company of Sunday scholars to the church, exposed to the comments and laughter of the populace, as they pa.s.sed along with their ragged procession." A better wife for the earnest Methodist preacher could not have been found than the woman who thus showed her good sense, her piety, and her courage, in starting the Sunday-school movement. In 1786 Wesley showed his appreciation of Bradburn's excellent qualities by getting him appointed to the London Circuit in order to have his a.s.sistance in superintending the affairs of the Connection.

Here he met with Charles Wesley, and, at the time of his death in 1788, Bradburn stood by the dying man's bed offering up earnest prayer for him, and calling to his mind the truths of that Gospel which he had done so much to spread throughout the world by his unrivalled hymns. John Wesley himself died three years afterward, 2d March, 1791, and Bradburn, then at Manchester, published a pamphlet ent.i.tled, "A Sketch of Mr.

Wesley's Character," in which he gave a most interesting epitome of the chief points in the history and labors of his father in the Gospel.

Bradburn, now looked upon as one of the foremost men in the Connection, united with eight others in issuing a circular giving an outline of policy for the guidance of the Conference at its next session. The utmost care and wisdom were needed in order to keep the various elements of Methodism together; and few men in those days were more conspicuous and useful than Bradburn in guiding the counsels of the a.s.sembled ministers. He was elected to preach before the Conference at its next session in Manchester, and so moved his audience by his impa.s.sioned appeal for unity and loyalty to the good cause that had now lost its earthly leader, that all in the chapel rose to their feet in response to his stimulating words. In 1796, when stationed at Bath, he was made secretary of the Conference, and held the office three years in succession. In 1799 his brethren showed their esteem for him by choosing him as _President_, and thus giving him the highest honor which they had it in their power to bestow.

[18] Bradburn's Life, see above, pp. 85, 86.

Among Methodists Bradburn is regarded as one of the most eloquent and powerful preachers the denomination has produced. He had all the natural gifts of a great orator, and these, combined with fervent piety and a single and lofty purpose in preaching, invested his discourses with a charm and an influence rarely wielded by public speakers. "Possessed of a commanding figure, dignified carriage, graceful action, mellow voice, ready utterance, correct ear, exuberant imagination, an astonis.h.i.+ng memory, and an extensive acquaintance with his mother tongue, he could move an a.s.sembly as the summer breeze stirs the standing corn."[19] This elocutionary power was not gained without much care and diligent labor.

He was a hard reader, and a most painstaking sermonizer, for though he never used the ma.n.u.script in the pulpit but preached extempore, after the fas.h.i.+on of the times, he nevertheless prepared his discourses with great skill and labor. The following sentences from his biography will sufficiently ill.u.s.trate this point.[20] "His own bold, easy, and correct English was such as no man acquires without perseverance in a right use of means. His diligence may be inferred from one of his reported sayings on leaving Manchester--that he had twelve hundred outlines of sermons untouched (not used in preaching in the circuit) at the end of three years' ministrations. The result of such endowments, improved, with such a.s.siduity, amid all the hindrances and discouragements of a laborious and hara.s.sing vocation, was, that to be comprehensive and lucid in arrangement; beautifully clear in statement or exposition; weighty, nervous, and acute in argumentation; copious, various, and interesting in ill.u.s.tration; overwhelming in pathos; to wield at will the ludicrous or the tender, the animating, the sublime, or the terrible--seems to have been habitually in his power." The Rev. Richard Watson, author of the "Inst.i.tutes," "walked twenty miles to hear the far-famed Mr.

Bradburn preach; and he never lost the impression which that distinguished orator produced." Watson thus describes his impressions: "I am not a very excitable subject, but Mr. Bradburn's preaching affected my whole frame. I felt a thrill to the very extremity of my fingers, and my hair actually seemed to stand on end." The biographer of the Rev. Jabez Bunting says of Bradburn: "His career was brilliant and useful; and perhaps more men longed, but durst not try, to preach like him than like any other preacher of his time.... Bradburn was without exception the most consummate orator we ever heard." And the author of Bradburn's life concludes the citation of a number of testimonies with the following strongly expressed opinion of his merits as a pulpit orator: "Methodism has produced a host of preachers renowned for pulpit eloquence. The names of Benson, Lessey, Watson, Newton, Beaumont, and others, stand out in bold relief on the page of her history, but the highest niche in her temple of fame belongs, most unquestionably, to SAMUEL BRADBURN."

[19] Bradburn's Life, pp. 177, 178.

[20] Ibid., pp. 183, 184.

Like most men of genius he had a strong sense of humor, enjoyed a joke most heartily, was ready and pithy in repartee, and seldom at a loss for spirit and tact in extricating himself from difficulties. Many a good story might be told, did s.p.a.ce allow, in ill.u.s.tration of this feature of his character. One or two must suffice. Perhaps the smartest thing he ever did in outwitting the early opponents of Methodism was done in a certain small town, in one of his own circuits, where, in the early days of the movement, the preacher and his friends had often "been driven off the field by a mob, headed by the clergyman." Bradburn understood the state of affairs thoroughly, and resolved to go down to the parish and preach in the open air. Notice of his coming was duly forwarded, and the clergyman ordered constables and others to be in attendance at the time and place appointed for the service. Meanwhile Bradburn having "provided himself with a new suit of clothes, borrowed a new wig of a Methodist barber," and "went to the place, put his horse up at the inn, attended the morning service at church, placed himself in a conspicuous situation so as to attract the notice of the clergyman, and, when the service was closed, he went up to him on his way out, accosted him as a brother, and thanked him for his sermon. The clergyman, judging from his appearance and address that he was a minister of some note, gave him an invitation to his house. Bradburn respectfully declined, on the ground that he had ordered dinner, and expressed a hope that the clergyman would dine with him at the inn. He did so, and Bradburn having entertained him until dinner was over with his extraordinary powers of conversation, managed to refer to the open-air service which was to be held, and the clergyman stated his intention to arrest the preacher and disperse the congregation, and asked Bradburn to accompany him, which he did. On arriving at the appointed place they found a large company a.s.sembled; and as no preacher had made his appearance, the clergyman concluded that fear had kept him away, and was about to order the people to their homes when Bradburn remarked that it would "be highly improper to neglect so favorable an opportunity of doing good, and urged him to preach to them. He excused himself by saying that he had no sermon in his pocket, and asked Bradburn to address them, which, of course, he readily consented to do, and commenced the service by singing part of the hymn beginning--

'Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing My great Redeemer's praise,'

and, after praying, delivered an impressive discourse from Acts 5:38, 39, 'And now I say unto you, Refrain from these men, and let them alone; for if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought: but if it be of G.o.d, ye cannot overthrow it, lest haply ye be found even to fight against G.o.d.' This not only deeply affected the people, but so delighted the clergyman, that although he knew, as the service proceeded, that he had been duped, he heartily thanked Bradburn for the deception he had practised on him, and ever afterward, to the day of his death, showed a friendly disposition toward Methodism."[21]

[21] Bradburn's Life, pp. 233-235.

The same readiness of resource and good humor were shown in the management of the affairs of the society in his capacity as a pastor. On one occasion, when he resided in Manchester, two ladies, district visitors, went to the house of an old woman, a member of the society, who was a laundress, and finding her hard at work accosted her with the remark: "Betty, you are busy." "Yes, mum," said Betty, "as busy as the devil in a whirlwind!" Shocked by such an indecorous speech, the visitors threatened to report it to Mr. Bradburn. Afraid of what she had done, and the consequence, if it should come to the preacher's ears, Betty, as soon as the ladies had gone away, set off by the quickest route to see Mr. Bradburn and relate the whole affair, and thus antic.i.p.ate the report from the ladies themselves. She found Bradburn "engaged in his vocation as cobbler for his family." "He listened to Betty's simple story, and engaged to put the matter right, if she would try to be more guarded in the future. She had scarcely got clear away when the two ladies arrived with their melancholy story of Betty's irreverence. They were asked into the room, and seeing him at his somewhat unclerical employment, one of them observed quite unthinkingly, 'Mr. Bradburn, you are busy!' 'Yes,' returned Bradburn, with great gravity, 'as busy as the devil in a whirlwind!' This remark from Betty was sufficiently startling, but from Bradburn it was horrifying. Seeing their consternation, he explained how busy the devil was in Job's days, when he raised the whirlwind which 'smote the four corners of the house,' where the patriarch's children were feasting, and slew them. It is, perhaps, needless to add that the two ladies left without mentioning the object of their visit."[22]

[22] Bradburn's Life, pp. 228, 229.

Hating the false pride which leads a man to forget his humble origin, and the canting way in which some men talk of their sacrifices in entering the ministry, he once severely rebuked two young men who made a parade in company of having "given up _all_ for the ministry." "Yes, dear brethren," said he, "some of you have had to sacrifice your all for the itinerancy; but we old men have had our share of these trials. As for myself, I made a double sacrifice, for I gave up for the ministry two of the best _awls_ in the kingdom--a great sacrifice, truly, to become an amba.s.sador of G.o.d in the church, and a gentleman in society!"

His ready wit was sometimes displayed like that of Hugh Latimer, Dean Swift, and Sydney Smith, in the selections of texts for sermons on special occasions. Preaching at the opening of a chapel entirely built with borrowed money, he took as a text the words of the young man to Elisha the prophet:[23] "Alas, master, for it was borrowed." On a snowy winter's day, when the congregation was very small, he selected the words which describe the character of the virtuous woman,[24] "She is not afraid of the snow."

[23] 2 Kings 6:5.

[24] Proverbs 31:21.

That Samuel Bradburn was not perfect none will need to be told, yet it will surprise and pain every one to read that so great and good a man, honored and beloved of his brethren for many years, and useful beyond computation as a preacher, should have been "overtaken in a fault," for which the Conference, in the exercise of a rigorous discipline, saw fit to suspend him for a year. After the lapse of this time he came back again to his old position, penitent and humble, like David or Peter, and like them fully restored to the Divine favor. This singular and melancholy event appears to have been due as much to _mental_ as _moral_ derangement, and in a short while, such was the sincerity of his sorrow and the blameless character of his after-life, his brethren were thankful to forget it, and to place him once more in positions of high trust and honor in the Connection. The last ten years of his life were spent in the important circuits of Bolton, Bath, Wakefield, Bristol, Liverpool, and East London. He died in London, July 26th, 1816, in the sixty-sixth year of his age. At the time of his decease the Conference was sitting in London. As a token of esteem and affection all its members joined in the funeral service at the New Chapel, City Road. He was buried in Old Methodist graveyard, City Road, by the side of his friend John Wesley, in the last resting-place of many of the fathers and founders of the Wesleyan Connection.

CHAPTER IV.

William Gifford,

FROM THE SHOEMAKER'S STOOL TO THE EDITOR'S CHAIR.

"Not mine the soul that pants not after fame-- Ambitious of a poet's envied name, I haunt the sacred fount, athirst to prove The grateful influence of the stream I love."

--_The Baviad; William Gifford._

"It is on all hands conceded, that the success which attended the 'Quarterly' from the outset was due, in no small degree, to the ability and tact with which Gifford discharged his editorial duties."--_Encyclopaedia Britannica._

"I am not more certain of many conjectures than I am that he never propagated a dishonest opinion, nor did a dishonest act."--_Writer in the Literary Gazette._

WILLIAM GIFFORD.

The field of literature seems always to have had a special charm for shoemakers. If the reader will glance for a moment at the list of names given at the end of this book, this fact will be at once apparent. Half, or more than half, the names given in that list are in some way or other connected with literature. The connection is but slight in many instances, perhaps, and the reputation it conferred only local and temporary. Few of our shoemakers, even though we have thought well to style them "ill.u.s.trious," can be said to have made a great and lasting name in the world of letters; and none of them it must be confessed have attained to first rank as prose or poetical writers. But there are worthies in our list, a.s.sociated alike with the humble craft of shoemaking and the higher walks of literature, whose names the world will not willingly let die, and we venture to think that the subject of this sketch is one of the number.

William Gifford was the first editor of the _London Quarterly Review_.

The high and influential position held by this journal was mainly due in the first instance to Gifford's talent and excellent management. The _London Quarterly_ was started in opposition to the famous _Edinburgh Quarterly_; George Canning, the celebrated statesman, and Sir Walter Scott, the great novelist, being the prime movers and early patrons of the enterprise, for the _Edinburgh_, under the clever management of Jeffrey, and supported by such writers as Sydney Smith and Brougham, was then too liberal in its tone to suit the taste of the brilliant Foreign Secretary and his Tory friends. It was no slight testimony to the abilities of the man who was chosen as the first editor of the new _Quarterly_ that his election should have been cordially approved by the first of Scottish novelists, and one of the most influential of English statesmen.

Gifford was the author of two satirical poems, the "Baviad" and "Maeviad," directed against the tawdry and sentimental rhymesters of a certain school which flourished in his day.[25] His scathing satire succeeded in putting an end to their trash. Gifford published also a translation of the Latin poets, Juvenal and Persius. To the latter he prefixed the story of his own early life as a poor cobbler's apprentice.

From this interesting autobiography the materials for the following sketch have been chiefly selected. William Gifford's best t.i.tle to fame was, no doubt, his edition of the "Early English Dramatists"--Ford, Ma.s.singer, s.h.i.+rley, and Ben Jonson. His generous and able vindication of Jonson reflects credit both upon the critic and the poet. It should be added that Gifford's editors.h.i.+p of the _Quarterly_ extended over fifteen years, and that during the whole of this period he was the writer of a large number of its most able articles.

[25] The "Della Cruscan school." See below.

Having taken a glimpse of the work accomplished by William Gifford as a critic, a scholar, and an editor in the latter years of his life, let us turn to look at his circ.u.mstances in boyhood and youth, when, as a miserable cobbler's apprentice, he began to yearn after knowledge and to cherish ambitious dreams. The contrast between the first and last scenes in the drama of life could hardly be more wonderful than that which is presented in the history of the man who pa.s.sed from the cobbler's stool to the editor's chair.

William Gifford was born at the small town of Ashburton, in South Devon, in 1757. His father, who was a man of spendthrift and profligate habits, died of the effects of his evil conduct before he had attained the age of forty. In twelve months afterward Gifford's mother died, leaving William, and a little brother two years old, orphans, and, it would seem, penniless. As no home could be found for the infant, he was sent to the workhouse. William, then thirteen years of age, fell into the hands of a man named Carlisle, who had stood as his G.o.dfather, a worthless fellow, who had appropriated the few things left by the mother, on pretence of claiming them for debt. This man put William to school, where he began to show signs of ability; but he was allowed no chance of making progress; for, at the end of three months, grudging the slight cost of his tuition, Carlisle took the boy from his books and playmates, and put him to the plough. It was soon found that he was too weak for such heavy work. His guardian now tried to get the boy out of hand altogether, by sending him off to Newfoundland as an errand-boy in a grocery store. This unkind project, however, being doomed to failure, it was resolved that the troublesome charge should be got rid of by making him a sailor.

We give the account of what happened at this period in his own words: "My G.o.dfather had now humbler views for me, and I had no heart to resist anything. He proposed to send me on board one of the Torbay fis.h.i.+ng-boats. I ventured, however, to remonstrate against this, and the matter was compromised by my consenting to go on board a coaster. A coaster was speedily found for me at Brixham, and thither I went when little more than thirteen years of age. It will easily be conceived that my life was a life of hards.h.i.+p. I was not only a s.h.i.+p-boy on the high and giddy mast, but also in the cabin, where every menial office fell to my lot. Yet if I was restless and discontented it was not so much on account of this as of my being prevented reading, as my master did not possess a single book of any description, excepting a Coasting Pilot."

Gifford was on board this vessel for about twelve months, a time of untold suffering and degradation. In fact, his position was so deplorable that some women from Ashburton, who went down to Brixham to buy fish, shocked to see the boy running about the beach in ragged clothes, spoke so plainly on their return home about the hards.h.i.+p of his lot, that his G.o.dfather was compelled for very shame to send for him home again. He was once more put to school, and now made such rapid strides in arithmetic that on an emergency he was invited to a.s.sist the school-master. He goes on in his own narrative to say that these encouragements led him to entertain the idea that he might be able to get his own living by teaching, and as his first master "was now grown old and infirm, it seemed unlikely that he should hold out above three or four years, and I fondly flattered myself," he adds, "that notwithstanding my youth I might possibly be appointed to succeed him."

It is worth while to notice that he was but a boy in his teens when he first began to feel the n.o.ble spirit of ambition stir within him, and to cherish the laudable desire to rely upon his own efforts for his maintenance. It was this lofty and self-reliant spirit which carried him past all his difficulties; and, truth to tell, no one has ever done anything remarkable in the world without it. The youth who is altogether dest.i.tute of ambition, and is ever on the look-out for the help of friends, lacks the first elements of success in life. But Gifford's bravery and persistence of mind had to be severely tested before meeting with their due reward.

Proceeding with his pathetic story, he says: "I was about fifteen years of age when I built these castles in the air. A storm, however, was collecting, which unexpectedly burst upon me and swept them all away. On mentioning my plan to my guardian, he treated it with the utmost contempt, and told me he had been negotiating with his cousin, a shoemaker of some respectability, who had liberally consented to take me, without fee, as an apprentice. I was so shocked at this intelligence that I did not venture to remonstrate, but went in sullenness and silence to my new master, to whom I was bound till I should attain the age of twenty-one. At this period I had read nothing but a romance called 'Parismus,' a few loose magazines--the Bible, indeed, I was well acquainted with; these, with the 'Imitation of Thomas a Kempis,' which I used to read to my mother on her death-bed, const.i.tuted the whole of my literary acquisitions."

The account which follows has few things to equal it in the records of struggling genius. It will serve to show how abject and apparently hopeless was his condition as a student at this time of his life, and will show also, what it may be hoped no youth who reads these pages will fail to learn, how marvellous is the power of energy and perseverance to triumph over apparently insuperable obstacles.

"I possessed," Gifford writes, "at this time but one book in-the world; it was a treatise on algebra given to me by a young woman who had found it in a lodging-house. I considered it a treasure; but it was a treasure locked up, for it supposed the reader to be acquainted with simple equations, and I knew nothing of the matter." He then speaks of meeting with a book called Fenning's "Introduction" belonging to his master's son, who, by the way, was discovered afterward to have been all through this time a secret rival for the head-masters.h.i.+p. This "Introduction"

gave Gifford just the information required to carry him forward into the study of algebra. But he was compelled to study it by stealth, lest it should be taken from him, and he goes on to say: "I sat up for the greater part of several nights successively and completely mastered it.