17 MAY 1856, Page 15

LIFE OF THE REVEREND JOSEPH BEAUMONT..

Timm exist in all times and places, civilized or uncivilized, men with great native force of character, or peculiar acquirements, or eminence in some pursuit which is practised in their country, and which leads to social influence and distinction. It is well to have some record of such men, from the passing portrait by the tra- veller in uncivilized countries, to the obituary, or biographical notice, or reminiscence, of nations where the press is in full ope- ration. There is no occasion for a bulky volume about a man who founded nothing, who headed nothing, who originated no- thing in literature, and whose incessant labours left him no time to attain permanent celebrity as a preacher or lecturer. The mo- tives that dictate such memorials may be all that is good, and the personal friends of the departed may feel pleasure in having their recollections awakened ; but to the world at large, which judges coolly and critically, these elaborate memoirs about persons not distinguished from many other leading professional men are ill- advised productions.

The exception is in the case of an eventful career, or the auto- biography of a singular strongly-marked character ; and in the latter case weaknesses contribute to the reader's amusement. In this Life of Dr. Beaumont there are a great number of his letters, but they are scarcely of an autobiographical cast, only personal or domestic. His life was so uneventful that it can be compressed into a few sentences. Joseph Beaumont was born in 1'794 ; edu- cated at Kingswood school ; apprenticed at fourteen to a chemist and druggist ; but, having a wish for the sacred ministry, he be- came a Wesleyan •preacher at nineteen, and continued in the con- nexion till his death last year, aged sixty-five. As his parents were' respectable and religious people, (his father was a Wesleyan preacher,) and as his youthful conduct was correct, Joseph Beau- mont had not to record any of those violent wrestlings between the new-born spirit and the old Adam which startle and attract in the biographies of the earlier Methodists ; indeed, the time for such fanaticism was almost past. His stipend at starting was small enough, and his family was not rich; so he had the usual difficulties of a Wesleyan minister in travelling his circuit. These, though considerable, as in some places they yef may be, were not to be compared with those of last century. At the end of the first decade of the present century neither roads nor con- veyances were what they became a few years later; still they had greatly improved,. and the Wesleyan body was more numerous and better organized. A preacher had his troubles, however, even at a later day : thus, in December 1824, Beaumont writes from Buxton— "I am really overpowered with the walks to which I am constantly called. For instance, last Saturday I walked nine miles without stopping, through miserable roads, and preached at night. Next morning walked a mile to preach at nine o'clock ; gave [members] tickets to several classes : then walked between two and three miles to preach at one ; then six miles to preach at Buxton at night. Then on Monday ten miles and preach, and so on ! Today I have six miles to walk out; tomorrow four miles to another

place, and six miles home again. Next Saturday nine miles out, and see not my own dear home again till the Thursday morning following. Last Wednesday night, in going lb a place to preach I was lost on the moor and

wandered for hours among old lime-pits and over a wild tract, and I be- lieved that I must spend the night in that situation. However' after a really perilous journey, in which I fell many times into deep holes formerly used as lime-pits, I came to a house where I hired.a horse to conduct me to another where I should have been, and there, exhausted, spent the night."

Though he rose gradually to eminence, was in request for charity sermons, and spoke at Exeter Hall and similar gatherings, Joseph Beaumont was not so popularly known as some other Non- conformist ministers—Jay of Bath, James of Birmingham, Binney of London, for example. His work may have been too multifarious, and his habits too desultory for concentrated fame. He was, for instance, a doctor of medioine, having studied at

• The Life of the Reverend Joseph Beaumont, M.D. By his Son, Joseph Beau- traont,.Esq, Published by Hamilton and Adams. Edinburgh and taken his degree, partly induced by the weakly state of his own health, partly by the possibility of having to abandon the minislay. His catholicity of mind prevented him from advancing high in the Conference, or getting some of the good things that body has the power to bestow. During the in- ternal quarrels which have so shaken Wesleyism for the lakt fifteen years, he observed a middle position ; blamingequally the violence of the reformers, (though leaning to their views ) and the absolute pretensions of the priestly party excommunicating right and left • and with the usual results of a middle course— "In moderation placing all my glory,

While Tories call me Whig and Whigs a Tory."

Dr. Beaumont did not adopt the same moderation in work as in questions of opinion. One Feat lesson of his life is the same that many men of this fast-living age furnish—that if limits, vary- ing with strength and constitution, are not placed upon exertion, Nature will assert herself by shortening life. In youth his health was uncertain and disease of the heart suspected ; but Armstrong pronounced that there was then no structural change, though there might be functional disturbance arising from nervousness. In- cessant labour and exposure, increased in their effects by party contentions and the annoyances the Conference inflicted upon him, broke down his health as he approached sixty. The apparent complaint was rheumatism ; the real cause of death, disease of the heart, which often supervenes upon rheumatism. Still Dr. Beaumont struggled on. His efforts and the final result, though diffusely told by the biographer, are the most interesting parts of the book. We bring together the more striking passages, be- ginning with the Christmas immediately preceding his death.

" In the last fourteen days of his life he preached fourteen sermons, be- sides attending various other religious services. •

" His last sermon was preached on the Friday evening at the small village of Newland, a short distance removed from Hull. This final work was one of those spontaneous labours which have boon alluded to more than once. Having been appointed to Newland on one of the days of his last extraor- dinary services, he was prevented from keeping this appointment ; but, much to the surprise of the good people there, who formed a very small and humble society, and who never expected such consideration, he proposed to preach for them on this Friday. The afternoon and night were extremely severe, and his family much regretted his resolution, but through the snow and cutting wind he went. • • " On the Sunday morning following, Jan. 21st, he sat with his family at breakfast in the ordinary spirits and health which of late he had possessed. He led the family worship, perused his letters, and observed on the passing topics in his accustomed manner. He had his sermons for the day by his

side, as was usual with him on the Sunday morning. * * •

" The morning of his death was very cold, and the streets slippery with the frozen snow ; but—to preach this sermon, as he thought—to die, as it was decreed—he walked with the support of one of his daughters to Waltham Street Chapel. On her pressing him before leaving his home to take a some- what empirical prescription for his rheumatism, which she felt anxious for him to try, and which he was disposed to adopt in order that he might gra- tify her, he replied, Not this morning, my dear, it might distress me in my work.' He was always rather thoughtful when about entering the pul- pit, and he made few observations by the way. In the vestry, he made some inquiries about the condition of the chapel-schools, for the benefit of which he was that morning to have preached ; and thus his last words before entering the chapel were on his duty. He ascended the pulpit-stairs with the elasticity which, as has been mentioned, it was his custom to assume in so doing, in order to conceal the lameness which he did not like then to ap- pear ; and he opened the service with his usual solemnity. The first hymn, which he selected was the 316th in the Wesleyan Hymn-book, which com- mences thus-

' Eternal Power, whose high abode Becomes the grandeur of a God, Infinite lengths beyond the bounds Where stars revolve their little rounds.'

Without reading the first verse, he gave out. the first two lines of the second- • Thee, while the first Archangel. sings, He hides his face behind his wings.'

These lines he delivered with an awful pathos = and those who were fa- miliar with his manner will readily imagine his lips quivering us he uttered the solemn words. While the congregation were singing the second of these lines, he looked partially round, (as if in search of something, it was thought,) sank down on the spot where he stood, and his beautiful spirit was at once admitted to chant the praises of God before the throne, instead of continuing to direct the devotions of mortals below. Without a sound or sigh or motion, and doubtless without a single instant's premonition, he died."

In our opening remarks, it will be understood that we were not unduly depreciating Dr. Beaumont's character, but regretting that a life so uneventful, and of which so little of a purely biogra- phical nature has been preserved, should have been unduly ex- uded; We see an announcement of some select works of Dr. Beaumont : a prefatory notice, one-fifth the length of the present volume, would better have exhibited his life. What is done is indeed well done, and it argues considerable ability in Mr. Beau- mont to maintain the interest of the book as he has done ; but no ability can endow subject or matter with properties it does not possess.