BOOKS.

THE JOURNAL OF JOHN WESLEY.* TRB publication of the first volume of the standard edition of Wesley's Journal is an event of no small importance in the literary as well as in the religious world. Thanks to the scholarly zeal and acumen of Mr. Curnock and the experts who have assisted him, we shall in the future read Wesley's Journals amplified with notes, extracts, and annotations from the unpublished diaries. At first sight admirers of Wesley and students of human psychology may feel disappointed that we have not been given the full text of the deciphered diaries. When, however, they read the introduction and learn the nature of the system on which Wesley kept his Diaries and Journals, they will realise that the mass of material makes it, if not impossible, at any rate undesirable, to adopt any other method than that pursued by Mr. Curnock. The learned decipherer of the cryptograms has not followed the course he has set himself to keep back from public knowledge anything which he thinks the public had better not know. There was nothing entered in the secret ciphers of Wesley which need fear the light. Wesley's method, however, would make full publication exceedingly tedious reading. His cipher notes were to a very great extent like the abbreviated notes intended for the basis of a speech or for some future writing,—reminders to the author of what he should develop fully in writing at some later date, rather than, as in the case of most cipher diaries, full confessions to the secret page. The publication of such memoranda as we have described would have been infinitely "tedious. What Mr. Curnock has done in the present volume is to take the Journal as formerly printed and to compare it with the cipher memoranda. Where there were points of unusual interest he quotes the new material verbatim. In addition he supplies a running summary of the deciphered memoranda.

It is not our intention to describe the curious and interest- ing methods of decipherment, or to dwell at any length upon the uses to which Wesley put his diaries. It is as well to point out, however, that nothing could do greater credit to the memory of John Wesley than the elucidation of his most secret thoughts and self-communings which has so unex- pectedly taken place. It has often occurred to the present writer that there could be no greater ordeal for a man than the publication of a diary which he believed, as Wesley believed, he had written in a cipher so secret that there • The Journal of John Wesley. Edited by Nehemiah Corneae. To be com- pleted in role. VoL I. London: Robert Culley. [By subscription only, 12 3s.]

was no human possibility of it ever being deciphered except by the author. We know what was the result of Mr. Pepys's secret journalising. Stevenson points out in his memorable essay that if the secret Journal had never been deciphered we could only judge Pepys solely on his "public form."

We should have believed him to have been a man specially virtuous and respectable in a corrupt age. We should have seen him deploring and struggling against mismanagement and corruption in the Navy. We should have known him as a pillar of the Church and of morality and religion. One of his most memorable appearances in our literature would have been the letter in which he asks Dryden to draw the portrait of a country gentleman true to his

faith and to the interests of his flock. Yet owing to the diary in which Pepys sets forth the inmost thoughts of his soul in a script which he fondly believed could never be read, we know him as the very reverse of all this. We know him as a hypocritical profligate,—a man who carried the double life to a point which one would otherwise have believed

impossible of attainment, a man who shows us the animalism of humanity in a specially disgusting form. In view of this, one may well tremble at the thought of the decipherment of a diary believed by its author to be abso- lutely secret. That Wesley comes unscathed through such an ordeal will raise him, if possible, higher in the esteem and reverence of those fit to judge and understand his character and career.

The diaries, old and new, show us that the bedrock founda- tion of Wesley's personality was that of the scholar and the gentleman. Beyond this, Wesley was a man of commanding character. He was a natural leader of men, a natural King. Not out of arrogance or pride or ambition, but out of the capacity for rule, he could never avoid being first in any work on which he set his heart. It would not be fair to talk about intellectual tyranny in Wesley's case, but a sense of intel- lectual mastery and an inability to brook the control of others there certainly was. He could himself exercise authority well and wisely. He could not easily endure its exercise in others. Yet side by side with this kingliness of temperament it is perfectly true to say that there was a sense of deep spiritual humility in Wesley. Though he was so much of a. leader, and so combative when he met with opposition, all his self- confidence disappeared when in the communings of the spirit he laid his soul bare before his Maker. No man ever more consciously or more sincerely desired to humble himself in the sight of God. No man more earnestly sought for guidance, no man was more willing to sacrifice his own self and his own happiness than Wesley.. His arbitrariness was never selfish, calculating, or mean.

The space at our command makes it quite impossible for us to tell the unhappy love-story which is embalmed

in Wesley's Georgian diary. We cannot, however, resist quoting the wonderful passage in which. Wesley, uncon-

scious as yet that he was in love, drew the picture of " Miss Sophy," the woman for whom his whole nature cried aloud.

Truly of this passage we may say : " The story's heart still beats against its side " :—

" She was eighteeen years old. And from the beginning of our intimate acquaintance till this day, I verily believe she used no guile: not only because even now I know no instance to the contrary, nor only because the simplicity of her behaviour was a constant voucher for her sincerity ; but because of the entire openness of all her conversation, answering whatever questions I proposed, without either hesitation or reserve, immediately and directly. Another thing I was much pleased with in her was, that whenever we were conversing or reading, there was such a stillness in her whole behaviour, scarce stirring hand or foot, that she seemed to be, all but her attention, dead: Yet at other times she was all life, active, diligent, indefatigable ; always doing something, and doing with all her might whatever her hand found to do. For indeed, if the weakness of her body did not her sense of honour would not hinder her doing anything. Nor did she at all favour herself on account of that weakness; she could not remove, she would not indulge it. Softness and tender- ness of this kind she would not know, having left the delicacy of the gentlewoman in England. She nttterly despised those incon- veniences which women of condition in England would think worse than death. With bread to eat and water to drink she was content ; indeed she never used any drink beside water. She was patient of labour, of cold, heat, wet, of badness of food or of want; and of pain to an eminent degree, it never making any alteration in her speech or behaviour, so that her frequent headache was only to be discerned.by her paleness and the dullness of her eyes. Little of a gentlewoman in delicacy and niceness, she was still less so, if possible, in love of dress. No philosopher would have despised her Ccohp (Inlubcoulhov. Though always neat, she was always plain.

And she was equally careless of finery in other things. It was use she considered, not show; nor novelty either, being as little concerned for new as for fine or pretty things. The same dis- regard she had for what are called diversions, such as balls, dancing, visiting ; having no desire either to see or be seen, unless in order to be wiser and better, Not that her love of retirement or want of curiosity was owing, as some supposed, to want of sense. Her constant, even seriousness was very far from stupidity.

Indeed, her understanding was not of a piece with her years.

Though unimproved, it was deep and strong. It reached the highest things and the lowest. It rose to the greatest, yet stooped to the least. With fine sense she had a largo share of common sense, and particularly of prudence, suiting herself readily to all persons and occasions, nature in her supplying the place of experience. Her apprehension was so quick that there was scarce over need to repeat a thing twice to her, and so clear as to conceive things the most remote from common life without

any mistake or confusion. But she was by no means fond of showing her sense ; seldom speaking when she could decently avoid it, and then in few words, but such as were clear and pertinent, and contained much in little compass. One reason of her speaking so seldom was the mean opinion she had of herself, particularly of her own understanding, which was also the great cause of her constant eagerness for instruction, and indeed for improvement of every kind, as she was very sensible of her want of all. Hence too it was that she was so teachable in things either of a speculative or practical nature, so readily con- vinced of any error in her judgement or oversight in her behaviour, and so easily persuaded to lay aside her own designs or measures and pursue those which others advised. Indeed, one would almost have thought she had no such ingredient in her nature as self-will. As her humility was, so was her meekness. She seemed to have been born without anger. Her soul appeared to be wholly made up of mildness, gentleness, longsuffering. Then especially, when she had to do with those who had injured her beyond the manner of men, she stayed for no entreaty before she forgave; but of one thing she was not easily convinced, that any one needed her forgiveness or had done ill either to her or any other. She was with difficulty induced to believe any evil which she did not see. And even when she could not help believing, still she took care 'to speak evil of no man.' And as her greatest enemies, so ranch more the greatest strangers had a share in her goodwill and affection. She was a friend to human kind. To whomever was distressed she was all sympathy, tenderness, compassion. But to any whom she particularly called a friend her behaviour can only be conceived, not expressed. Such was the spirit of gratitude that ran through it; such the softness, the sweetness of every part of it; yet still preserving in all that yielding easiness a modesty pure, as the light. The temper of her heart towards God is best known by Him 'who seeth in secret.' What appeared of it was a deep, even reverence, ripening into love, and a resignation unshaken in one of the severest trials which human nature is exposed to. The utmost anguish never wrung from her a murmur- ing word. She saw the hand of God, and was still. She said

indeed, 'If it is N possible, Father !' But added, 'ot as I will, but as Thou wilt ! ", We cannot set forth the sad ending of Wesley's romance, but must note that if he had shown a little more selfishness and a little more personal feeling, and had possessed a little more trust in his own judgment—had shown, in fact, a little more self-confidence--it would have conduced very greatly to his happiness. Unfortunately, instead of taking counsel with his own heart, he -took the advice of others. Again, with a childishness and want of worldly wisdom which are almost unbelievable, yet by no means inconsistent with Wesley's strong determination of character in other respects, he did not realise that when Miss Sophy told him that she would never marry, what she meant was that she would never marry anybody but him. This very primitive artifice, this simple piece of "maidenly shamefacedness," is so obvious even in Wesley's own recital that it gives a touch of almost intolerable pathos to the misunderstandings which flowed from it.

Before we leave this fascinating book, the precursor, we trust, of many equally interesting volumes, we should like

to note what a. very human person Wesley was even at the beginning and most Methodistical part of his career. We find him as a young Fellow of his College, not merely riding about the country round Oxford for Saturday-to- Monday visits, but hunting, rowing, and playing games. In College he was a vents sodas. As Dr. Johnson realised, Wesley was essentially a sociable and friendly man. His conversation was both learned and delightful, and his zeal and earnestness in the revival of religion were always guided

by a sense of appropriateness and good taste. He never hesitated " to testify " to the faith that was in him, no matter what his company, but at the same time he never " testified" in a ridiculous or offensive manner. Our last word must be as our first. Wesley always remembered so to be a man of religion as not to forget that he was a scholar and a gentleman.