Good and Bad Forgivers

In his delightful volume, The Other Side of the Hill, F. W. Boreham calls forgiveness “one of the highest arts of life,” and he suggests that some people are good forgivers, and others are poor forgivers. He gives an example of both from history: [A] The Poor Forgiver When John Wesley was traveling by ship to America he heard an unusual noise in the cabin of General Oglethorpe, the Governor of Georgia.

Wesley stepped in to inquire. It turned out that Grimaldi, the Governor’s servant, had devoured the entire stock of the great man’s favorite wine. “But I will be avenged!” cried the Governor, who ordered the poor man tied hand and foot to be carried away for severe punishment.

“For you know, Mr. Wesley,” stormed Oglethorpe, “I never forgive!” “In that case, sir,” replied Wesley, “I hope you never sin!” The General was quite confounded at the reproof, and putting his hand into his pocket book, took out a bunch of keys, which he threw at Grimaldi, saying, “There, villain, take my keys and behave better in the future.”

His forgiveness, such as it was, was poor indeed. [B] The Good Forgiver Boreham contrasts that with the example of William Gladstone, Prime Minister of England. Once, when Gladstone was Chancellor of the Exchequer, he sent down to the Treasury office for a sheaf of statistics on which he based his budget proposals.

Now it happened that, in compiling the statistics, the clerk had made a mistake that vitally affected the entire situation. The blunder was only discovered after Gladstone had elaborated his proposals and made his budget speech in the House of Commons.

The papers immediately exposed the fallacy, and for a moment the Chancellor was overwhelmed with embarrassment. He was made to appear ridiculous before the . . entire nation.

He sent down to the Treasury for the clerk to come to him at once. The clerk duly arrived, trembling with apprehension, and expecting instant dismissal. He began to stammer out his apologies, and his entreaty for forgiveness. Mr.

Gladstone stopped him. “I sent for you,” he said, “because I could imagine the torture of your feelings.

You have been for many years dealing with the bewildering intricacies of the national accounts, and you have done your work with such conscientious exactness that this is your first mistake. It was because of your splendid record that I did not trouble to verify your calculations. I have sent for you to compliment you on that record and to set you at ease.” “If the New Testament means anything,” commented F.

W. Boreham, “it means that a man who can forgive with such gallantry and chivalry is a very great Christian indeed.”1 1 Boreham, The Other Side of the Hill, 242-243. 2 Alan Loy McGinnis, The Power of Optimism (San Francisco: Harper & Row Publishers, 1990), 128. 3 Charles Haddon Spurgeon, Spurgeon’s Sermons, vol.

2 (Grand Rapids, Ml: Baker Book House, 1983), 90. ‘William Secker, The Norisuch Professor In His Meridian Splendor {Chicago: Fleming H. Revell Co., 1899), 154.