William Law, born a grocer’s son at Kingscliffe, Northamptonshire, in 1686, entered Emmanuel College, Cambridge, in 1705, and became a fellow in 1711. He was unable to subscribe the oath of allegiance to George I., and forfeited his fellowship. About 1727 he became tutor to the father of Edward Gibbon, and for ten years was “the much-honoured friend and spiritual director of the whole family.” The elder Gibbon died in 1737, and three years later Law retired to Kingscliffe, and was joined by his disciples, Miss Hester Gibbon, sister of his pupil, and Mrs. Hutcheson. The two ladies had a united income of about £3000 a-year, and most of this they spent in works of charity. About 1733 Law had begun to study Jacob Boehme, and most of his later works are expositions of his mysticism. He died April 9, 1761. Law won his first triumphs against Bishop Hoadly in the famous Bangorian controversy with his “Three Letters” (1717). His “Remarks on Mandeville’s Fable of the Bees” (1723) is a masterpiece of caustic wit and vigorous English. Only less admirable is the “Case of Reason” (1732), in answer to Tindal the Deist. But his most famous work remains in the “Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life” (1729), which profoundly influenced Dr. Johnson and the Wesleys. There are two collected editions of his works—that of 1762 and that by Moreton (1893 et seq.). See Walton’s “Notes and Materials for a Complete Biography” (1848), Overton’s “William Law, Nonjuror and Mystic” (1881), and the Rev. Dr. A. Whyte’s “Characters of William Law” (1892).

Personal

  One Mr. Lawes, A. M., of Cambridge, was lately degraded by the means of Dr. Adams, head of King’s College, who complained to the present lord-treasurer (who was zealous for his degradation) upon account of some queries in his speech called tripos speech, such as, Whether the sun shine when it is in an eclipse? Whether a controverted son be not better than a controverted successor? Whether a dubious successor be not in danger of being set aside? With other things of the same nature.

  Mr. Law was in stature rather over than under the middle size; not corpulent, but stout made, with broad shoulders; his visage was round, his eyes grey; his features well proportioned, and not large; his complexion ruddy, and his countenance open and agreeable. He was naturally more inclined to be merry than sad. In his habit he was very regular and temperate.

  A thorough man, full of human infirmities, but a grand specimen of humanity, and a noble monument of the power of divine grace in the soul.

  Law rose at five for devotion and study; the household assembled for prayers at nine; dinner was at twelve in summer and at one in winter, and was followed by devotion. At tea-time Law joined the family, eating only a few raisins, and talking cheerfully, without sitting down. After tea the servants read a chapter of the Bible, which Law explained. He then took a brisk walk in the fields, and after another meal, again followed by prayers, he retired to his room, took one pipe and a glass of water, and went to bed at nine. They attended the church services on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays; saw a few friends, and occasionally took an airing, Mrs. Hutcheson in her “coach,” Law and Miss Gibbon riding on horseback. Law, in order to begin the day by an act of charity, distributed the milk of four cows to his poor neighbours. He tasted the soup which was daily prepared for the poor, and his only displays of irritability were on occasions of its being not well enough made. He loved music, and maintained that every one could be taught to sing well enough for devotional purposes. He was fond of dumb animals, and liked to free birds from their cages. He was a lover of children, and has devoted much space in his writings to advice upon their education. He had a small room for a study, which Canon Overton describes as part of “a most commodious bedroom,” and altogether a “most convenient little smuggery.” He had a large library, chiefly of theological books, and was an untiring student in several languages. The hearthstone of his room was worn away in two places by the rubbing of his chilly feet…. Law never allowed his portrait to be taken. He is described by Tighe, who visited Kings Cliffe for information, as rather over the middle height, stoutly made, but not fat, with a round face, grey eyes, ruddy complexion, and a pleasant expression. His manners were unaffected, though with a certain gravity of appearance, induced by a “clerical hat with loops let down, a black coat, and grey wig.”

Unlawfulness of Stage Entertainment

  The wild enthusiasm of Law’s pamphlet would afford matter of scorn and laughter to infidels and freethinkers, and render our most sacred religion still more contemptible among them!

  Decidedly the weakest of all his writings, and most of his admirers will regret that he ever published it. Regarded merely as a composition, it is very inferior to his usual standard. Unlike himself, he gives way to passion and seems quite to lose all self-control; unlike himself, he indulges in the most violent abuse; and unlike himself he lays himself open to the most crushing retorts. He makes no distinction whatever between the use and abuse of such entertainments.

Remarks on the Fable of the Bees, 1723

  The first section of Law’s remarks is one of the most remarkable philosophical essays he had ever seen in English. Now this section has all the highest beauty of his (Law’s) polemical compositions, and a weight of pithy right reason, such as fills one’s heart with joy. I have never seen, in our language, the elementary grounds of a rational ideal philosophy, as opposed to empiricism, stated with nearly the same clearness, simplicity, and force.

  “Remarks on the Fable of the Bees”—the most caustic of all his writings. It is hardly more than a pamphlet, but it is a perfect gem in its way, exhibiting in miniature all the characteristic excellencies of the writer—a thorough perception of the true point at issue, and a close adherence to it, a train of reasoning in which it would be hard to find a single flaw, a brilliant wit, and a pure and nervous style.

Christian Perfection

  Law’s “Christian Perfection” fell into my hands by providence; and after reading it over and over, I recommended it so heartily to a friend of mine near London, that he procured eighteen copies for each of our parochial libraries; I have recommended it to my clergy after the most affecting manner, as the likeliest way to bring them to a most serious temper.

  In this work Law begins that crusade against all kinds of human learning which henceforth almost amounted to a life-long craze with him. The most illiterate of Methodist preachers did not express a more sublime contempt of mental culture than this refined and cultured scholar. Every employment which is not of a directly religious tendency is contemptible in his eyes…. The “Christian Perfection” is a somewhat melancholy book: the brighter side of Christianity is certainly not brought out into full relief; Law’s own character was, particularly at this period, of the stern, austere type, and his book reflects his character.

  You know what a book it was with the men of eighty years ago. But I had no idea of its merits. Written about the beginning of the eighteenth century by a Jocobite Nonconformist, its doctrine is what I suppose would now be called high-flown. But the style is excellent, the logic tenacious, the wit never-failing. Of logic there is almost a Βανανῥια even to mood and figure. It is refreshing to feel oneself for a moment in the grip of such an athlete. But I will not affect to be indifferent to the subject-matter. I think it does me good.

Serious Call to a Holy Life, 1729

  “When at Oxford, I took up ‘Law’s Serious Call to a Holy Life,’ expecting to find it a dull book (as such books generally are), and perhaps to laugh at it. But I found Law quite an overmatch for me; and this was the first occasion of my thinking in earnest of religion, after I became capable of rational inquiry.” From this time forward religion was the predominant object of his thoughts; though, with the just sentiments of a conscientious Christian, he lamented that his practice of its duties fell far short of what it ought to be.

  Before I went to the University I met with Mr. Law’s “Serious Call,” but had not money to purchase it. Soon after my coming up to the University, seeing a small edition of it in a friend’s hand, I soon purchased it. God worked powerfully upon my soul, as He has since upon many others, by that and his other excellent treatise upon “Christian Perfection.”

  Mr. Law’s “Serious Call,” a book I had hitherto treated with contempt, was carelessly taken up by me. But I had no sooner opened it than I was struck with the originality of the work, and the spirit and force of argument with which it is written…. By the perusal of it, I was convinced, that I was guilty of great remissness and negligence; that the duties of secret devotion called for far more of my time and attention, than had been hitherto allotted to them; and that, if I hoped to save my own soul, and the souls of those that heard me, I must in this respect greatly alter my conduct, and increase my diligence in seeking and serving the Lord.

  I must beg leave to differ from those who would utterly discard Mr. Law’s writings, and to assert that we have not perhaps in the language of a more masterly performance in its way, or a book better calculated to promote a concern about religion, than Mr. Law’s “Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life.”

  A treatise which will hardly be excelled, if it be equalled, in the English tongue, either for beauty of expression or for justness and depth of thought.

  Mr. Law’s master-work, the “Serious Call,” is still read as a popular and powerful book of devotion. His precepts are rigid, but they are founded on the gospel: his satire is sharp, but it is drawn from the knowledge of human life; and many of his portraits are not unworthy of the pen of La Bruyère. If he finds a spark of piety in his reader’s mind, he will soon kindle it to a flame; and a philosopher must allow that he exposes, with equal severity and truth, the strange contradiction between the faith and practice of the Christian world. Under the names of Flavia and Miranda he has admirably described my two aunts—the heathen and the christian sister.

  May be read with pleasure even by the purely literary critic. Perhaps, indeed, there is a touch of profanity in reading in cold blood a book which throughout palpitates with the deepest emotion of its author, and which has thrilled so many sympathetic spirits. The power can only be adequately felt by readers who can study it on their knees; and those to whom a difference of faith renders that attitude impossible, doubt whether they are not in a position somewhat resembling that of Mephistopheles in the cathedral. When a man is forced by an overmastering impulse to lay bare his inmost soul, the recipient of the confession should be in harmony with the writer. The creed which is accepted by Law with such unhesitating faith, and enables him to express such vivid emotions, is not exactly my own; and, if I do not infer that respectful silence is the only criticism possible, I admit that any criticism of mine is likely enough to be inappreciative. One who had yielded to the fascination would alone be qualified fully to explain its secret. And yet no one, however far apart from Law’s mode of conceiving of the universe, would willingly acknowledge that he is insensible to the thoughts interpreted into his unfamiliar dialect.

  We shall understand Law’s power over his generation, if we remember that the “Serious Call” was the first manifesto of Evangelicism. In all its strength and in all its weakness that appeal contained in embryo what we may not inaptly describe as the Religion of Death—the religion that, regarding our sojourn in this world as an anomalous episode in the career of eternity, makes it an object to strip it as bare as possible of everything but the anticipation of departure.

  As a composition, it is difficult to speak too highly of it. The epithets which Wesley applied to its writer, “strong” and “elegant,” express exactly two out of its many excellences. As one reads it, one feels under the guidance of a singularly strong man. There is no weak, mawkish sentimentality, no feeble declamation, no illogical argument. It is like a strong man driving a weighty hammer with well-directed blows. Every stroke tells, and you cannot evade its force. And both in style and matter it is a singularly elegant composition. There are no offences against good taste, no slipshod sentences, no attempts at fine writing in it. Its illustrations (though, perhaps a little too frequent) are always apposite, and often very beautiful…. If Law had written nothing whatever except the “Serious Call,” he would have written quite enough to deserve a prominent and honoured place in English literature; and, what is better still, he would have written quite enough to earn the gratitude of all who value true piety.

  The “Serious Call” had an immediate and strong influence on many thoughtful men, and Law’s book stimulated in no common measure the religious life of the country.

General

  Mr. William Law, after writing so excellently upon the vanity of the world and the follies of human life (on which subjects he has no superior), has left us nothing to depend upon but imagination, and reduced the whole evidence of Christianity to fancied impulses and inspiration, so as to render the sacraments useless and the means of grace contemptible.

  In our family he had left the reputation of a worthy and pious man, who believed all that he professed, and practised all that he enjoined. The character of a nonjuror, which he maintained to the last, is a sufficient evidence of his principles in church and state; and the sacrifice of interest to conscience will be always respectable. His theological writings, which our domestic connexion has tempted me to peruse, preserve an imperfect sort of life, and I can pronounce with more confidence and knowledge on the merits of the author. His last compositions are darkly tinctured by the incomprehensible visions of Jacob Behmen; and his discourse on the absolute unlawfulness of stage-entertainments is sometimes quoted for a ridiculous intemperance of sentiment and language…. The sallies of religious frenzy must not extinguish the praise which is due to Mr. William Law as a wit and a scholar. His argument on topics of less absurdity is specious and acute, his manner is lively, his style forcible and clear; and, had not his vigorous mind been clouded by enthusiasm, he might be ranked with the most agreeable and ingenious writers of the times.

  About this time Wesley became personally acquainted with William Law, a man whose writings completed what Jeremy Taylor, and the treatise “De Imitatione Christi,” had begun. When first he visited him, he was prepared to object to his views of Christian duty as too elevated to be attainable; but Law silenced and satisfied him by replying, “We shall do well to aim at the highest degrees of perfection, if we may thereby at least attain to mediocrity.” Law is a powerful writer: it is said that few books have ever made so many religious enthusiasts as his “Christian Perfection” and his “Serious Call:” indeed, the youth who should read them without being perilously affected, must have either a light mind or an unusually strong one. But Law himself, who has shaken so many intellects, sacrificed his own at last to the reveries and rhapsodies of Jacob Behmen. Perhaps the art of engraving was never applied to a more extraordinary purpose, nor in a more extraordinary manner, than when the nonsense of the German shoemaker was elucidated in a series of prints after Law’s designs, representing the anatomy of the spiritual man. His own happiness, however, was certainly not diminished by the change: the system of the ascetic is dark and cheerless; but mysticism lives in a sunshine of its own, and dreams of the light of heaven; while the visions of the ascetic are such as the fear of the devil produces, rather than the love of God.

  He was a moral philosopher as well as a theologian, and the man who would combat his statements or escape from his practical conclusions has more to do than shut his eyes to the evidence of revelation.

  By drawing attention to Jacob Behmen, Law has in too many instances only been preparing a tomb for his own works.

  I am surprised that Johnson should have pronounced William Law no reasoner. Law did indeed fall into great errors; but they were errors against which logic affords no security. In mere dialectical skill he had very few superiors. That he was more than once victorious over Hoadly no candid Whig will deny.

  A word or two should find place here concerning the fate of Behmen’s doctrine…. His best representative in England is William Law. That nonjuring clergyman was elevated and liberalised by his intercourse with the mind of the German mystic, and well did he repay the debt. Law may be said to have introduced Behmen to the English public, both by his services as a translator, and by original writings in advocacy of his leading principles. As might be expected, the education and more practical Englishman frequently expresses the thoughts of the Teuton with much more force and clearness than their originator could command. Several other Englishmen, then and subsequently, speculated the same track. But they met with small encouragement, and their names are all but forgotten. Here and there some of their books are to be found among literary curiosities, whose rarity is their only value. If any would make acquaintance with Behmen’s theology, unvexed by the difficulties of his language or the complexity in which he involves his system, let them read Law.

  That excellent man, though somewhat cloudy writer.

  William Law has far higher merits than those of the mystic. As a controversialist, among the most logical, keen, exact, and conclusive that the Church of England has produced; as a moralist, plain, impressive, exalted; as a champion of practical religion in the midst of a material, scoffing, and corrupted age—he challenges the admiration of all good men.

  Letters to Hoadly may fairly be put on a level with the “Lettres Provinciales” of Blaise Pascal,—both displaying equal power, wit, and learning.

  The immense influence upon the cultivated English student of the rugged, uncouth writings of Jacob Behmen, the Gorlitz shoemaker, “the Teutonic Theosopher,” is at first appearance a curious phenomenon. But in Germany the case is abundantly paralleled. Arndt and Andreas, Spener and Francke, Zinzendorf, Novalis, Kahlman, and Schlegel were all more or less indebted to him. Nor can it be wondered at. For amid all his unintelligible verbiage, amid extraordinary fancies, which sometimes seem like the uncontrolled ramblings of insanity, are scattered passages of great beauty and remarkable spiritual insight. And truly there is a golden thread running through it all. For William Law his writings had a surpassing fascination. He mastered the language in order to read them in the original Dutch, translated and published them in folio, and filled his mind with the thoughts which had inspired them. Although the turbid stream was not altogether infiltrated by its passage through Law’s clear and logical intellect, yet he sifted out much of the dregs, while he remained in firm possession of the treasure. To many of his contemporaries it seemed as though he had ruined himself as a divine. They turned with aversion from the too often frequent remains of Behmen’s strange jargon. But as soon as it has escaped from this the stream is clear and pure. In the opinion, not indeed of all, but of many competent judges, Law gains far more than he loses by his studies, both of the mystical theology in general, and in particular of Behmen.

  Among all the divines, the one who wrote most vigorously is perhaps that very ingenious and powerful Tertullian of the dissenters, William Law.

  The logical power shown in Law’s controversial writings surpasses that of any contemporary author, unless Bentley be an exception. His assaults upon Hoadly, Mandeville, and Tindal could only have failed to place him in the front rank because they diverged too far from the popular theories. He was the most thoroughgoing opponent of the dominant rationalism of which Locke was the great exponent, and which, in his view, could lead only to infidelity. He takes the ground (see especially his answer to Tindal) of the impotence of human reason, and some points anticipates Butler’s “Apology.”

  Sombre and yet eloquent; instinct with feelings; at once severe and grim in his earnestness, and copious in the range of his imagination.

  Masters of English Prose are not so plentiful that we can afford to allow one who stands in the very first rank to slip into oblivion. And it would be difficult to find many who combine as Law does so much vigour and raciness of thought and diction, so pure and luminous a style, such brilliant, if somewhat grim, humour, such pungent sarcasm, such powers of reasoning. There is, indeed, a stern severity about the writer which is very characteristic of the man; but it is equally characteristic that amid this sternness he sometimes breaks out into passages of sweet tenderness, which are all the more touching from their contrast with the ruggedness of their surroundings…. He never loses sight of his subject, and, granting his premises, it is impossible to put a pin’s point between his deductions from them. He is, moreover, a singularly equal writer, unlike the good Homer, he never nods, never descends below himself. One might take passages almost at random, and yet convey as favourable an impression of him, as by carefully selecting specimens which shew him at his best.

  Law represents, moreover, the best type of pamphleteer that religious controversy has produced. A Latitudinarian himself in a higher sense of that ill-used word, he had the deepest sympathy with those who were outside his communion, saying once that he would like the truth no less because Ignatius Loyola, or John Bunyan, or George Fox were very zealous for it. Who else could have written such words at that time? Or who else could have said in an age, when controversy was still deformed by virulent personalities, that “by the grace of God he would never have any personal contention with anyone?” To those words he kept faithful in the face of great provocation, and therefore he deserves a place of peculiar honour in the strangely assorted crowd of pamphleteers.

  In the goodly succession of the masters of the eighteenth-century style, William Law has an indisputable place, and one could almost wish at times that his theme had not been religion, so that his power as a writer might have been recognised. If he had bantered and satirised and handled the lacrimæ rerum, as he was very well able to do, in papers like the Spectator, the Tatler and the Rambler, his place in literature would not have been doubtful. But because he was occupied with religion, counted man as an immortal soul, and used his powers to promote the eternal welfare of men, he is left among the preachers and that dull kind of creature, instead of being ranked among the wits and men of letters. If we mark the eighteenth-century style as in its golden age with Steele and Addison, Pope and Swift, and if we admit it overripe in Gibbon and Dr. Johnson, there is a silver, or a mellow, period which reaches to the middle of the century. Fielding is the most famous reputation of this silver age; Berkeley is the most gifted writer; but William Law is its consummate representative. In him the seriousness and humor of the essayists still blend; in him the weight and stateliness of Burke and Gibbon are already perceptible; and Johnson’s gravity, though not his ponderousness, is the ballast of the style.