Reasons for His Autobiography

My very dear Children, — I duly received your kind and respectful letter. The contents were both pleasing and humbling. I could not but feel gratified by the expressions of your filial afiection and piety; yet my conscience told me while reading them, how far short I came in fully exemplifying the qualities and excellences which your regard has led you to attach to your father. ’

The letter is too partial and flattering to be here introduced. But what can I say to the proposal it brings, in pressing me to write some account of myself, and the leading events of my life? The application has a powerful claim in coming from those who stand in a relation so near; and it acquires additional influence when, as you afl&rm, it is accompanied and enforced by the earnest wishes of my other relatives and friends, and church and congregation, and of many of the public.

But before I could determine on refusing or complying with the proposal, I had four things to consider: —

First, Whether such a memoir ought to be secured?

This was a delicate question for the individual himself to answer, and some might suppose that he could not answer it in the affirmative, without betrayiDg self-impOrtance. But humility is not founded in ignorance. A man may know and own what he is, without vanity or pride, if he can say, “By the grace of God I am what I am ;^^ “Not I, but the grace of God which was with me.^’ It would have been mere affectation (and it must have been deemed so), had I seemed unacquainted with my rise from an obscure condition, the earliness of my preaching, the degree of popularity attending my first efforts; the undiminished continuance of the favour shown to my labours; the candid respect I have received from the various religious denominations I have occasionally served; the friendly notice taken of me by some very significant personages; the number of my publications, with their acceptance and enlarged circulation at home and abroad; and the portion of usefulness, in serving my gener-ation for more than half a century, which is generally attributed to my endeavours.

A second question was. Whether, if I refused this proposal, every thing of the kind would be prevented from other quarters? The present rage for biography is excessive and notorious. Such is the voracity of its appetite, that it frequently waits not for the license which death is supposed to give. It falls upon its prey, and devours it alive; and many a man may be himself the reader of his own character and history, furnished by some anonymous or even known writer. A number of different sketches of myself have already appeared in periodical or separate pubHcations in England and America. It is not, therefore, impossible or improbable but some notices after my death may be attempted, either by the mercenary or needy grasping at gain, or by real friends, meaning well, but labouring often in the dark.

Thirdly y It was to be asked whether autobiography in some respects is not more desirable and preferable than information derived from extraneous sources? “Those relations,’^ says Johnson, ‘^ are commonly the most valuable, in which the writer tells his own story .^^ With regard to a man’s talents and productions, and also those attributes and habits, the result and fame of which form so much of what we mean by character, the pen of another may be better than his own. But yet, respecting

many things of an interesting nature, lie himself must be the best witness, the best judge, and the best recorder. By a competent writer, the public life of an individual is easily supplied; but people are seldom satisfied without some insight into his more private retreats and recesses. They would know not only what he did, but why he did it. They would know, not only the direction in which he moved, but whether he was led into it by design or accident, and what retarded or aided his progress. They would not only contemplate his elevation, but learn by what degrees and efforts and instrumentalities he reached it; for there is nothing really unaccountable in such cases. The thing wondered at is, under Providence, the natural consequence of a series of events and circumstances. What appears a kind of impassable depth and distance between the early and later condition of the man is owing to an ignorance of the intermediate connexions in the passage. We see him on the opposite sides, but have not accompanied him in the transition from the one to the other; but he himself knows that he passed, not by a miracle, but by means; that he was not supernaturally borne across, but gained his position by many alternations of hope and fear; by many a weary step, and by many a painful struggle.

But how is a man’s more personal and interior experience; his original disadvantages or helps; what chilled his ardour or animated his diligence; what in his intellectual, or spiritual, or official career was found to be his bane or his benefit; T^dth many other interesting and useful things; — how is all this to be known, unless from the communications of the individual himself?

A diary will not fully subserve the purpose. A diary regards chiefly a mans intercourse with God; and the variations of his religious views and feelings there recorded are designed to promote self- acquaintance, and not to divulge himself to others. Such a work is devotional rather than narratory, and will abound with much that is not proper for public observation.

Fourthly, I had to inquire whether, in such an undertaking, I could trust my own views and motives? While I knew how hard it is to he honest where self is concerned, and that nothing is perfectly pure that comes from man; yet I felt that I ought to be conscious of being so far actuated by a principle of truth, rectitude, and usefulness, as to be able to commend my work unto the Lord; and not only to implore his assistance in the performance, but also to hope for his blessing in the perusal of it.

These considerations I have endeavoured fairly to examine; and though I do not say that I am perfectly satisfied as to the conclusion, yet there is nothing in it that, upon the whole, constrains me to decline attempting the engagement you urge upon me. Yet I fear I shall find the execution no easy enterprise. Some difficulty will be found in the selection. When a man looks back upon a life of seventy-four years, he sees a very extensive field; and what he is to detach for the notice of others asks for the exercise of judgment and prudence. Much may be, and much ought to be, passed over. Some love to eke out pages and volumes; but a brief account will generally comprise all that ordinary biography requires.

Two things should not be forgotten in the choice of articles. 1st, The influence they are likely to have on the reader, in a way of innocent gratification, instruction, or improvement. And, 2ndly, Their appropriateness to the character of the individual.

The insertions, therefore, should serve directly or indirectly to develop him — for it is of him — of his condition — of his changes — of his opinions, ‘^attachments,[^and doings,[;the reader wants to be informed.

But besides the selection of materials themselves, there must be some arrangement; and this also has occasioned thought; for here various modes have been employed, with perhaps equal propriety and success.”2]i’ow have [neither recommended, nor sug-LET. I.] REASONS FOR PREPARING IT. 15

gested, any particular method. I shall therefore throw my narrative and reflections into a series of Letters to yourselves. In this I shall conform to the example of my honoured tutor, Cornelius Winter, in the Life of him which I have published, and which has met with so much success. This mode will best suit a man of years and engagements, as it will allow of freedom in the expression, enlargement or contraction in the statements, and easy gradualness (not much affected by breaks and pauses) in the progress. The number of Letters the series will contain, must depend on the uncertainties of circumstances. But whether I shall live and be able to accomplish the design wholly or partially, rests with Him “in whose hand our breath is, and whose are all our ways.^^” But this will we do if God permit.^^

N.B. I had no sooner written the above than I was favoured with a call from my esteemed brother, the Bev. John Angell James,” of Birmingham. Upon being informed of my purpose, he not only very much approved of it, and zealously urged its execution, but begged that I would not limit myself, by aiming at too much conciseness; especially as to any parts and circumstances that would bear usefully upon the rising ministry (for that ministry whose improvement and excellency he has shown much anxiety). Hence, some things which otherwise would not have been introduced, must plead this excitement and sanction.