Chapter XV · THE IMPRISONED FATHER.—1705–1709.

It was about this period of Mr Wesley’s history that he wished and proposed to go as a missionary to the East Indies. The only English missionary society then existing was the Society for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts. This society was instituted by King William III. in 1701, and had for its object the maintenance of clergymen in the British plantations, colonies, and factories. It was managed by a board of ninety persons, including the two archbishops, several bishops, and a number of the nobility, gentry, and clergy.

Mr Wesley’s scheme was threefold. First, he proposed to inquire into the state of English colonists, in all the English factories and settlements, from St Helena to India and China; travelling wherever it was possible to travel, either by land or sea; and where that could not be done, making the same inquiry by means of correspondence from Surat, which he seems to have intended to be his place of residence. He wished to inquire into the number of the English colonists, their morals, and their ministers; and to revive among them the spirit of Christianity, by catechising, by good books, and by other means of the same description.

The second part of his scheme had reference to other Churches. He would endeavour to open a correspondence with the Church of Abyssinia, or, if the English board of management thought fit, he would try to pierce into that country himself. He would also personally inquire into the state of the poor Christians of St Thomas, who were scattered all over India, and would settle a correspondence between them and the Church of England. He also proposed to convey Protestant books among the Roman Catholics, translated into the language of the countries where he found them dwelling.

Then, in the third place, he would exert himself to benefit the 296heathen natives. He would endeavour to learn the language of Hindostan, that he might be able to reason and to preach to the people in their native tongue, and so convert them and their Brahmins to the religion of Jesus Christ.

He acknowledges that he is not “sufficient for the least of these designs, much less for all together; but it would be well worth dying for to make some progress in any one of them; and he would expect the same assistance as to kind, though not to degree, which was granted of old to the first planters of the gospel.”

He thinks that if the East India Company were made acquainted with his scheme they might deem it worthy of encouragement; and he also hopes that Queen Anne might be prevailed upon to grant it her royal favour; but even should the Queen and the East India Company give him no encouragement, he was still prepared to go on two conditions—1. That he be allowed £140 a year; £100 of which he would devote to his own expenses, and the remaining £40 to a curate employed to take his place at Epworth. And 2. That, in case of his decease while upon his mission, provision might be made for the subsistence of his family, they, of course, being supported while he lived by the income of his rectory.

Such was Samuel Wesley’s noble plan to go as a missionary, for £100 a year, to St Helena, Abyssinia, India, and China. Perhaps communications from his wife’s brother, Samuel Annesley, jun., now resident in India, might have excited within him some amount of interest in the welfare of the inhabitants of that country; but, over and above all that, he was animated with a zeal for God and a love for the souls of men which made him willing not only to encounter hardship and danger, but even death in his great missionary project. His father, John Wesley of Whitchurch, was inspired with the same spirit; and, when forbid to preach in England, longed to go to Surinam, in Guiana, or to Maryland, in America, as a missionary among the English settlers there. The father’s heroic spirit was the spirit of the son, and also of the grandsons, John and Charles, who, full of zeal for the Most High, tore themselves from their friends at Oxford, and, almost without scrip or purse, crossed the Atlantic to preach the glorious gospel of the blessed God to the different tribes of American Indians.

297Samuel Wesley’s proposal was not adopted; but it was not on that account the less honourable to his head and heart.

On the 5th of April 1705, Queen Anne dissolved by proclamation the high Tory House of Commons, and, of course, this was followed by a general election. Whigs and Tories now exerted themselves to the uttermost. Party struggles throughout the kingdom were most vehement. The clergy generally were in favour of the Tories, and took great pains to infuse into the people tragical apprehensions, that, if the Whigs obtained a majority, the Church would be in danger. The universities took the same side of the question, and “the Church in danger” was the election cry of the Tory party.

The contest for the county of Lincoln was extremely violent. The late members, Sir John Thorold and Mr Dymoke, were Tories. Their opponents, Colonel Whichcott and Mr Bertie, were Whigs. Mr Wesley was early and zealously canvassed by both parties. At first, he promised to do what was exceeding fair, viz., to vote for Thorold and Whichcott, and thus give to each party the benefit of his example and of his influence. In course of time, the party-cry reached the Isle of Axholme. Thorold and Dymoke stood up for royalty and the Church; Whichcott and Bertie, both Churchmen, threw themselves into the hands of the Dissenters. By the Whig party, the Church, the clergy, and “the memory of the martyr were openly scandalised;” and it now became a serious question with Mr Wesley whether he should fulfil his promise to vote for a man whose party were thus assailing the Church he so much loved; and, though it was “equally against his inclination and his interest, he determined to drop both when honour and conscience were concerned, and to vote for the friends of the Church.” As soon as this was known, the Whigs loaded him and his family with every kind of insult and persecution within their power. On the steps of his own church, he was called “rascal and scoundrel;” but we will permit him to tell his own story. In a letter to Archbishop Sharpe, dated “Epworth, June 7, 1705,” he writes:—

“I went to Lincoln on Tuesday night, May 29th, and the election began on Wednesday, 30th. A great part of the night our isle people kept drumming, shouting, and firing of pistols and guns under the windows where my wife lay, who had been brought to bed not three weeks before. I had put the child to nurse over 298against my own house; the noise kept his nurse waking till one or two in the morning. Then they left off; and the nurse being heavy to sleep, overlaid the child. She waked, and finding it dead, ran with it to my house almost distracted, and calling my servants, threw it into their arms. They, as wise as she, ran up with it to my wife, and, before she was well awake, threw it cold and dead into hers. She composed herself as well as she could, and that day got it buried.

“A clergyman met me in (Lincoln) Castle yard, and told me to withdraw, for the isle men intended me a mischief. Another told me he had heard near twenty of them say, ‘If they got me in the castle yard they would squeeze my guts out.’ My servant had the same advice. I went by Gainsborough, and God preserved me.

“When they knew I was got home they sent the drum and mob, with guns, &c., as usual, to compliment me till after midnight. One of them passing by on Friday evening, and seeing my children in the yard, cried out, ‘O ye devils! we will come and turn ye all out of doors a begging shortly.’ God convert them and forgive them!

“All this, thank God, does not in the least sink my wife’s spirits. For my own, I feel them disturbed and disordered; but, for all that, I am going on with my reply to Palmer, which, whether I am in prison or out of it, I hope to get finished by the next session of parliament, for I have now no more regiments to lose.”

What had Wesley done to deserve outrages like these? He had withdrawn his promise to vote for Whichcott, the Dissenters’ candidate, because the Dissenters, for election purposes, began to abuse the Church, the clergy, and the memory of Charles I. And, secondly, he had “concerned himself in the election of the county, which he thought he had as much right to do as any other freeholder.”^[180] For this claim of freedom to vote as he thought proper, the professed friends of freedom deemed it their duty to subject him and his family to all this insult and injury. Is it surprising that, after this, Samuel Wesley should look askance upon his old friends, the Dissenters; and that, to some extent, he should, as Wesleyan biographers have stated, ally himself to the opponents of Dissenters, the “High Flyers” of the Church of England?

299In the last sentence of the foregoing letter, there is an expression which must be noticed. Wesley says, “I have no more regiments to lose.” An explanation will be found in the following narrative:—

For above thirty years, John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, had pursued the military life with amazing ability and success. He had married Sarah Jennings, the companion of Princess Anne. On the accession of Anne, he was appointed captain-general of the forces at home and abroad, with an allowance of £10,000 a year. After a succession of marvellous victories, he fought and won the battle of Blenheim, in August 1704. In this battle, the French and Bavarians lost nearly forty thousand men, or about two-thirds of their entire army. Thirteen thousand were made prisoners, among whom were twelve hundred officers. Ten French battalions were wholly cut to pieces; and thirty squadrons of horse and dragoons were forced into the Danube, most of whom were drowned. Marlborough took above one hundred cannon, twenty-four mortars, one hundred and twenty-nine colours, one hundred and seventy-one standards, seventeen pair of kettle-drums, three thousand six-hundred tents, thirty-four coaches, three hundred laden mules, two bridges of boats, fourteen pontoons, and eight casks of silver. His loss in killed and wounded was twelve thousand. The hero received the thanks of both Houses of Parliament; the city entertained him with a splendid feast; the colours taken from the enemy were paraded from one extremity of London to the other; the Queen gave to him and to his heirs for ever the manor of Woodstock and the hundred of Wootton, and caused a palace, Blenheim House, to be built for him. His prime fault was his avarice. “The desire of accumulating money,” says John Wesley, “attended him in all his triumphs, and threw a stain upon his character. In the whole, he received above £523,000 of the public money, which he never accounted for, and probably received some millions by plunder and presents.”^[181] He died in 1722.

Such was the man whose exploits Samuel Wesley celebrated in 1705. His poem is a folio pamphlet of twelve pages, and is “dedicated to the Right Honourable Master Godolphin.” With one or two exceptions, perhaps this is the most finished poem that Samuel Wesley ever wrote. It consists of five hundred and twenty-six lines, many of them containing beauties of the highest order.

300In consequence of this poem, the Duke of Marlborough made him chaplain to Colonel Lepelle’s regiment, which was to stay in England for some time; and a nobleman sent for him to London, promising to procure him a prebend. All this, however, happened while he was in the midst of his controversy with Mr Palmer, and the result was, his old friends, the irritated Dissenters, who had powerful influence both in parliament and at court, succeeded in preventing him obtaining the cathedral appointment; and, also, soon worked him out of the military chaplainship, which was actually given him.^[182]

It is to the last of these mean and revengeful actions he refers when, in the foregoing letter, he remarks “I have no more regiments to lose.”

Samuel Wesley’s dissenting controversy involved him and his family in terrible trials. Some have been related, others yet remain. The following letter to Archbishop Sharpe was written within a month after the general election:—

“Lincoln Castle, June 25, 1705.

“My Lord,—Now I am at rest, for I have come to the haven where I have long expected to be. On Friday last, when I had been christening a child at Epworth, I was arrested in my churchyard by one who had been my servant and gathered my tithe last year, at the suit of one of Mr Whichcott’s relations and zealous friends, (Mr Pinder,) according to their promise, when they were in the isle, before the election. The sum was not £30; but it was as good as five hundred. Now, they knew the burning of my flax, my London journey, and their throwing me out of my regiment, had both sunk my credit and exhausted my money. My adversary was sent to when I was on the road, to meet me, that I might make some proposals to him. But all his answer was that, ‘I must immediately pay the whole sum or go to prison.’ Thither I went with no great concern for myself, and find much more civility and satisfaction here than in bevibus gyaris of my own Epworth. I thank God, my wife was pretty well recovered, and was churched some days before I was taken from her; and I hope she will be able to look to my family, if they do not turn them out of doors, as they have often threatened to do. One of my biggest concerns was my being forced to leave my poor lambs in the midst of so 301many wolves. But the Great Shepherd is able to provide for them, and to preserve them. My wife bears it with that courage which becomes her, and which I expected from her.

“I do not despair of doing some good here, and it may be, I shall do more in this new parish than in my old one; for I have leave to read prayers every morning and afternoon in the prison, and to preach once a Sunday, which I choose to do in the afternoon, when there is no sermon at the minster. I am getting acquainted with my brother gaol-birds as fast as I can, and shall write to London next post, to the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, who, I hope, will send me some books to distribute among them.

“I should not write these things from a gaol if I thought your Grace would believe me ever the less for my being here; where, if I should lay my bones, I would bless God and pray for your Grace.—Your Grace’s very obliged and most humble servant,

“S. Wesley.”

Five days afterwards, the good archbishop wrote a sympathising letter; but, at the same time, stated what he had heard against him. This letter Mr Wesley answered; gave a satisfactory account of all his affairs, and showed that the reports which had reached the archbishop were perfectly false, and adduced proof of this. He then continues his letter as follows:—

“Lincoln Castle, July 10, 1705.

“My Lord,—I am not forgotten, neither by God nor by your lordship. My debts are about £300, which I have contracted by a series of misfortunes not unknown to your Grace. The falling of my parsonage barn before I had recovered the taking my living; the burning of a great part of my dwelling-house about two years since, and all my flax last winter; the fall of my income nearly one-half, by the low prices of grain; the almost entire failure of my flax this year, which used to be the better half of my revenue; together with my numerous family, and the taking this regiment from me, which I had obtained with so much expense and trouble,—have at last crushed me, though I struggled as long as I was able. Yet I hope to rise again, as I have always done when at the lowest; and I think I cannot be much lower now.

“Do not be in haste to credit what they report of me, for really 302lies are the manufacture of the party; and they have raised so many against me, and spread them so wide, that I am sometimes tempted to print my case in my own vindication.”

The party whom Wesley had opposed had prevented him obtaining a prebend, had wrested from him a regimental chaplaincy, had indirectly occasioned the death of his infant child, had loaded him with obloquy, and had cast him into prison. Surely this was punishment enough for the publication of his unlucky letter, and his two pamphlets in defence of it, and for the vote which he had given at the general election of 17051705. But not so. Two months after writing the foregoing letter, be poured fresh sorrows into the ear of his friend, the archbishop. He writes:—

“Lincoln Castle, Sept. 12, 1705.

“My Lord,—It is happy for me that your Grace has entertained no ill opinion of me, and will not alter what you have entertained without reason. But it is still happier that I serve a Master who cannot be deceived, and who, I am sure, will never forsake me. A jail is a paradise in comparison of the life I led before I came hither. No man has worked truer for bread than I have done, and few have lived harder, or their families either. I am grown weary of vindicating myself; not, I thank God, that my spirits sink, or that I have not right on my side, but because I have almost a whole world against me; and therefore shall, in the main, leave my cause to the righteous Judge.

“A few weeks ago, in the night, since I came hither, my enemies stabbed my cows, endeavouring thereby to starve my forlorn family in my absence; my cows being all dried by it, which was their chief subsistence; though I hope they had not the power to kill any of them outright.

“After it was done, to divert the cry of the world against them, they spread a report that my own brawn (boar) did this mischief; though at first they said my cows ran against a scythe and wounded themselves.

“As for the brawn, any impartial jury would bring him in not guilty, on hearing the evidence. There were three cows all wounded at the same time, one of them in three places; the biggest was a flesh wound, not slanting, but directly in towards the heart, which it only missed by glancing outward on the rib. It was nine inches deep; whereas the brawn’s tusks were hardly two 303inches long. All conclude that the work was done with a sword, by the breadth and shape of the orifice.

“The same night the iron latch of my door was twined off, and the wood hacked in order to shoot back the lock, which nobody will think was with an intention to rob my family. My house-dog, who made a huge noise within doors, was sufficiently punished for his want of politics and moderation; for, the next day but one, his leg was almost chopped off by an unknown hand.

“It is not every one that could bear these things: but, I bless God, my wife is less concerned with suffering them than I am in the writing, or than I believe your Grace will be in reading them. She is not what she is represented, any more than I am. I believe it was this foul beast of a worse-than-Erymanthean boar, already mentioned, who fired my flax by rubbing his tusks against the wall; but that was no great matter, since it is now reported I had but £5 loss.

“O my lord! I once more repeat it, that I shall sometime have a more equal Judge than any in this world.

“Most of my friends advise me to leave Epworth, if ever I should get from hence. I confess I am not of that mind, because I may yet do good there; and it is like a coward to desert my post because the enemy fire thick upon me. They have only wounded me yet, and, I believe, cannot kill me. I hope to be at home at Christmas. God help my poor family! For myself, I have but one life, but while that lasts, shall be your Grace’s ever obliged and most humble servant, S. Wesley.”

Such were the sufferings inflicted by unrelenting enemies upon a man with a sickly wife and eight young children. Such conduct was outrageous, and admits of no excuse. Five days after the above letter was sent off, the poor prisoner wrote another to the same excellent archbishop:—

“Lincoln Castle, Sept. 17, 1705.

“My Lord,—I am so full of God’s mercies that neither my eyes nor my heart can hold them. When I came hither, my stock was but little above ten shillings, and my wife’s at home scarce so much. She soon sent me her rings, because she had nothing else to relieve me with; but I returned them, and God soon provided for me. The most of those who have been my 304benefactors keep themselves concealed. But they are all known to Him who first put it into their hearts to show me so much kindness; and I beg your Grace to assist me to praise God for it, and to pray for His blessing upon them.

“This day I have received a letter from Mr Hoar, that he has paid £95, which he has received from me. He adds that ‘a very great man has just sent them £30 more;’ he mentions not his name, though surely it must be my patron. I find I walk a deal lighter; and I hope I shall sleep better now that these sums are paid, which will make almost half my debts. I am a bad beggar, and worse at returning formal thanks; but I can heartily pray for my benefactors; and I hope I shall do it while I live, and so long beg to be esteemed, your Grace’s most obliged, and thankful humble servant, Sam. Wesley.”

It is uncertain how much longer Mr Wesley was kept in Lincoln Castle; but four months after this he was once more at his home at Epworth. Archbishop Sharpe and others were extremely kind, and the following additional anecdote of his Grace’s thoughtful sympathy, deserves insertion. Mrs Wesley writes:—“When my master was in Lincoln Castle, the late Archbishop of York said to me, ‘Tell me, Mrs Wesley, whether you ever really wanted bread?’ My lord, said I, I will freely own to your Grace that, strictly speaking, I never did want bread. But then, I had so much care to get it before it was ate, and to pay for it after, as has often made it very unpleasant to me. And I think to have bread on such terms is the next degree of wretchedness to having none at all. ‘You are certainly in the right,’ replied his lordship, who seemed for a while very thoughtful. Next morning he made me a handsome present; nor did he ever repent having done so. On the contrary, I have reason to believe it afforded him comfortable reflections before his death.”^[183]

Thus wrote Susannah Wesley respecting one of her husband’s friends. Hear what she says respecting one of his enemies. “Last Thursday, (May 1706,) a very sad accident happened here. Robert Darwin, a man of this town, was at Bawtry Fair, where he got drunk; and, riding homeward down a hill, his horse came down with him, and he fell with his face to the ground, and put his neck out of joint. Those with him immediately pulled it in 305again, and he lived till next day; but he never spoke more. His face was torn all to pieces, one of his eyes beat out, his under lip cut off, and his nose broken down. In short, he was one of the dreadfullest examples of the severe justice of God that I have known. This man, as he was one of the richest in this place, (Epworth,) so he was one of the most implacable enemies your father had among his parishioners; one that insulted him most basely in his troubles, one that was ready to do him all the mischief he could; not to mention his affronts to me and the children, and how heartily he wished to see our ruin. This man, and one more, have been now cut off, in the midst of their sins, since your father’s confinement.”^[184]

The heroic wife, during the rector’s imprisonment, evinced fortitude, fidelity, and love, worthy of herself. Money she had none,—not a coin; the household lived on bread and milk, the produce of the Epworth glebe; but she did what she could to help her husband in his strait;—she sent him her little articles of jewellery, including her wedding-ring; but these he sent her back, as things far too sacred to be used in relieving his necessities. Brave-hearted couple! The wife did her duty; but the husband’s soul was far too noble to avail himself of such a sacrifice.

In his “Pious Communicant,” published in 1700, Samuel Wesley puts into the reader’s mouth a beautiful prayer, which he had doubtless often offered on his own behalf, and which, in his present circumstances, was peculiarly appropriate. The prayer, for itself, is worth preserving; and, in a narrative like this, is of some importance, as illustrating the thoroughly devout and Christian spirit of this much-tried godly minister. It is as follows:—

“A PRAYER FOR ONE IN AFFLICTION AND WANT.

“O God! who art infinite in power, and compassion, and goodness, and truth! who hast promised in Thy holy Word, that Thou wilt hear the prayer of the poor destitute, and wilt not despise his desire. Look down, I beseech thee, from heaven, the habitation of Thy holiness and glory, upon me a miserable sinner, now lying under Thy hand in great affliction and sorrow. I am weary of my groaning, my heart faileth me. The light of my eyes is gone from me, I sink in the deep waters, and there is none to help me; yet I wait still upon Thee my God. Though all the world forsake me, let the Lord still uphold me, and in Him let me always find 306the truest, the kindest, the most compassionate, unwearied almighty friendship. To Him let me ease my wearied soul, and unbosom all my sorrows!

“Help me, O Lord! against hope to believe in hope! Grant that I may not be moved with all the slights and censures of a mistaken world. Let me look by faith beyond this vale of tears and misery, to that happy place which knows no pain, or want, or sorrows. I know, O Lord! that a man’s life consists not in the abundance of the things that he possesses, but that he who has the most here, as he brought nothing with him into this world, so he shall carry nothing out. I bless Thee that Thou hast not given me my portion among those who have received all their consolation here, whose portion is in this life only. Neither let me expect those blessings which Thou hast promised to the poor, unless I am really poor in spirit, and meek, and humble. I know nothing is impossible with God, and that it is Thou alone who givest power to get riches, and that Thou canst by Thy good providence, raise me from this mean condition, whenever Thou pleasest, and will certainly do it, if it be best for me. I therefore humbly submit all unto Thy wise and kind disposal. I desire not wealth or greatness. Give me neither extreme poverty, nor do I ask riches of Thee, but only to be fed with food convenient for me. I desire earnestly to seek first the kingdom of God and the righteousness thereof, well hoping that, in Thy good time, food and raiment, and all other things that be needful shall be added unto me. I believe, O Lord! that Thou who feedest the ravens, and clothest the lilies, wilt not neglect me and mine,—that thou wilt make good Thy own unfailing promises,—wilt give meat to them that fear Thee, and be ever mindful of Thy covenant. In the meantime, let me not be querulous, or impatient, or envious at the prosperity of the wicked; or judge uncharitably of those to whom Thou hast given a larger portion of the good things of this life; or be cruel to those who are in the same circumstances as myself. Let me never sink or despond under my heavy pressures and continued misfortunes. Though I fall, let me rise again. Let my heart never be sunk so low that I should be afraid to own the cause of despised virtue. Give me diligence, and prudence, and industry, and let me neglect nothing that lies in me to provide honestly for my own house, lest I be worse than an infidel. Help me carefully to examine my life past; and, if by my own carelessness 307or imprudence, I have reduced myself into this low condition, let me be more deeply afflicted for it; but yet let me still hope in Thy goodness, avoiding those failures whereof I have been formerly guilty. Or, if for my sins Thou hast brought this upon me, help me now, with submission and patience, to bear the punishment of my iniquity. Or, if by Thy wise providence Thou art pleased thus to afflict me for trial, and for the example of others, Thy will, O my God! not mine, be done. Help me, and any who are in the same circumstances, in patience to possess our souls, and let all Thy fatherly chastisements advance us still nearer towards Christian perfection. Teach us the emptiness of all things here below—wean us more and more from a vain world. Fix our hearts more upon heaven, and help us forward in the way that leads to everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be glory, honour, and power, now and for ever. Amen!”^[185]

Such a prayer as the above helps to supply the lack of a religious diary; and so will the following extracts from letters written immediately after Mr Wesley was released from Lincoln Castle. It ought to be premised that all the letters were addressed to his son Samuel, who was now sixteen years of age, and for two years past had been a pupil in Westminster School:—

“Epworth, January 14, 1706.

“Dear Child,—I now call you so, more on account of your relation than your age; for you are past childhood, and I shall hereafter use you with more freedom, and communicate my thoughts to you as a friend as well as a father. Most of what I write to you will be the result of my own dear-bought experience; and you may expect a letter once a month at least; and I hope, in mere civility, you will sometimes write again, unless my son, too, has made a vow never to write to me more, as I am sometimes inclined to think my mother has. If you think these letters worth preserving, you may lay them together, and sometimes look over them.

“I shall begin, as I ought, with piety, strictly so called, or your duty towards God, which is the foundation of all happiness. I hope you are tolerably grounded, for one of your age, in the principles 308of natural religion, and the firm belief of the being of a God, as well as of His providence, justice, and goodness, (if not, look upon me, and doubt it if you can!) towards which you have had considerable advantages in your reading so much of Tillotson, while you were here, as well as in your mother’s most valuable letter to you on that subject, which I hope you will not let mould by you; I am sure you ought not to do it, for not many mothers could write such a letter.

“Now if there be a God, as it follows that He is just, good, and powerful, so I leave it to your own thoughts whether it be not our clearest interest, as well as honour and happiness, to serve Him, and the greatest folly in the world not to do it. This service must begin at the heart by fearing and loving Him. The way to attain this happy temper is often to contemplate, deeply and seriously, His attributes and perfections, especially His omniscience, omnipresence, and justice for the former; and His beneficence and love to mankind to excite the latter, particularly that amazing instance of it—His sending His Son to die for us; which that pious youth, Charles Goodall, (who went to heaven not much older than you are,) could never reflect upon without rapture, as I find by his papers now in my hands, and which, perhaps, you and the public may sometime have a sight of.

“Another way to preserve and increase piety is to exercise it in constant and fervent devotion. There never was a very good man without constant secret prayer; as I know not how any can be wicked while he conscientiously discharges that duty. If we make our less necessary employments take the place of our stated devotions—or, what is next to it, crowd them up into a narrow room—we shall soon find our piety sensibly abate, and all that is good ready to run to ruin.

“With these are to be enjoined the daily reading of God’s Word, on no occasion to be omitted, and that with care and observation, especially such passages as more immediately concern your own case and the state of your soul.

“Next to this, I can scarce recommend anything that would more conduce to the advancement of true piety than your Christian diary. I will not reproach you that a mother’s commands were more prevalent than those of a father, for your resuming and continuing it, since I am too well pleased that you have at last done it. This, with the exercise which you will have, will find 309you employment; and, therefore, you must be a good husband of your time, and fix certain hours for everything, not neglecting bodily exercise for the preservation of your health.

“I have not time to close this head, but yet would not any longer delay to write. I commend you to God’s gracious protection, and would have you always remember that He sees and loves you. Your mother will write soon to you. We are all well.—I am your affectionate father,

“Samuel Wesley.”^[186]

The following is an extract from a letter written seven months after the date of the former one:—

“Epworth, August 15, 1706.

“Dear Child,—My last related to that part of piety which is to be exercised between God and your own soul. This will refer to public devotion, which is our due homage to Almighty God, and never ought to be neglected, unless in case of unavoidable necessities, as sickness and the like, and therefore not for taking physic, unless the case be very pressing; for you cannot expect to gain anything in your studies by robbing God of that small moiety of time. I understand you are now under the happy necessity of being always present at public worship, of which I am very glad; but then, you know, it is by no means sufficient to sit as God’s people sit, if our hearts be far from Him. There ought to be a due preparation of mind before you presume to approach the house of God. When you are entering, remember whither you are going; when present, remember where you are, and say, ‘How dreadful is this place!’ Always consider the sacredness of it, on account of its dedication and relation to God, and His presence in it, as well as its sacred uses; for I suppose you are hardly of the same mind with the rebellious assembly of divines, and I hope never will be, who, as impudently as falsely, affirm, that ‘no place is holy on account of any separation or dedication whatever.’

“You will find the firm belief of God’s presence in His own holy house of prayer will be of great advantage to you in fixing your thoughts on the great work for which you come thither; which, as soon as you enter, and when you take your seat, you are to express in most humble adorations of body and mind, 310accompanied with some short prayer, either mental or vocal, suitable to the occasion.

“When the service begins, you are to join with it, and go along with every part of it, with the utmost intension and most fervent devotion; for which end keep your eye fixed upon your Prayer-book or Bible, and let your eye go along with the priest, which will keep your thoughts from wandering.

“I hope you understand the cathedral service—I mean, understand what they sing and say—which at first is something difficult. Unless you understand what is said, you might as well pray in an unknown tongue. On the contrary, if we do understand the service and go along with it, we shall find Church music a great help to our devotion, as it notably raises our affections towards heaven; which, I believe, has been the experience of all good men, unless they have been dunces or fanatics; nay, even the latter confess the same of their own sorry Sternhold-psalms, which are infinitely inferior to our cathedral music, as well as some thousands of years of later date, not being of two hundred years standing. We are not to think God has framed man in vain an harmonious creature; and surely music cannot be better employed than in the service and praises of Him who made both the tongue and the ear. I hope you are not so weak as to be moved by the wicked examples of idle lads who regard none of these things, or by their scoffs for your doing it.

“You are to be very attentive to the sermon, because you know in whose name and by whose commission it is delivered; and that faith, and obedience too, come by hearing; this being God’s ordinance for the conversion of mankind and the Church’s edification. By practice you will be able to remember the principal parts of a sermon; which, with a little pains, will add an habitual memory to that good natural one wherewith God hath blessed you. When you come home, immediately retire, either into your closet, or else to some solitary walk in the park. There recollect what you have heard, and fix what is observable in your memory, especially what relates more immediately to yourself and to the state of your own soul. This will be of great advantage to you, on more accounts than one, for it will lay a good foundation of divinity, which study you must always have in your eye, as being both designed for it, and, I hope, inclined to it above any other.

“Have a particular respect to the religion of the Sabbath, as all 311good men have ever had. Value highly that time, for as time, in general, is the most precious thing in the world, so this is the most precious of all others, and not designed for idle visits, but for the concern of our souls, and communion with God in prayer and praise, and other acts of piety and devotion.

“I hope you dare not make any exercises upon it but what are proper for the day, such as Judge Hale did; but then, have a care lest, doing this as a school task only, it may not degenerate into formality. Rob not yourself of so much pleasure and profit as you will find in your translations of the Bible into verse, and Sunday exercises of the same nature, if you are but so happy as to reconcile fancy and devotion, which have too long been enemies.

“I shall not write anything to you concerning receiving the blessed sacrament till towards spring; though I hope you frequently think of it and long for it, as the dearest pledge of your Saviour’s love, especially when you go home from church and see others stay to receive it.

“And thus much, at present, of public worship.—I am, your affectionate friend and father,

“Samuel Wesley.”^[187]

Before proceeding to give further extracts from Mr Wesley’s letters, there are two facts in the foregoing which demand attention.

The first is, that the rector was a passionate admirer of sacred music. Of this there can be no doubt. In one of his articles, in the Athenian Oracle, (vol. i. p. 393,) be strongly advocates the duty of singing psalms in private families, and attributes the neglect of this to the general decay of piety, though he admits that the faultiness of the metrical versions of the psalms, and the ill choice of tunes, may have had some influence in leading to such neglect. In another article, in the same volume, (p. 440,) he says—“Nothing but a stock is proof against the charms of music, and especially when good sense, good poetry, good tunes, and a good voice meet together.” In another article on the same subject, in vol. iii. p. 95, he strongly complains of Sternhold’s version, and adds, in reference to the tunes, that most of them are so vile that even Orpheus himself could not make good music out of them. “This, and the reading them at such a lame rate, tearing them limb from limb, and leaving sense, cadency, and all at the mercy 312of the clerk’s nose, may be part of the reason why the Reformed Churches are yet most remiss in psalmody.”

Is it too much to say that the marvellous musical genius of his two grandsons, Charles and Samuel Wesley, was inherited from himself? So remarkable was this talent for music that Charles surprised his father, by playing, with correctness, a tune on the harpsichord before he was three years old; while Samuel taught himself to read from Handel’s oratorios; had all the airs, recitations, and choruses of “Samson” and the “Messiah,” both words and notes, by heart before he was six years old; and, when he was eight, composed and wrote his own oratorio of “Ruth.”

The other fact, in the preceding letter, which deserves to be noticed is, that Samuel Wesley recommends his son, as a Sabbath exercise, to make “translations of the Bible into verse.” He was as fond of sacred song as he was of sacred music. Besides his poetical “Life of Christ,” he had already done what he recommends to his son Samuel, for, in three volumes, he had turned the whole of the histories of the Old and New Testaments into verse; and, though his eldest son did not adopt his suggestion, it was substantially adopted by his youngest son Charles, who, fifty-six years afterwards, published in two volumes his “Short Hymns on Select Passages of the Holy Scriptures;” the hymns being two thousand and thirty in number, all founded upon particular texts, beginning with Genesis and ending with the Revelation of St John.

At the risk of being tedious, we cannot deny ourselves the gratification of inserting the substance of two other letters, written by Mr Wesley to his son Samuel, at Westminster School, in the same year as the above were written, 1706:—

“Epworth, September 1706.

“Dear Child,—The second part of piety regards your duty towards your parents, towards whom I hope you will behave yourself as you ought to the last moment of their lives.

“Some people, who are either fond of paradoxes, or have imbibed ill principles from our modern plays and such like authors, may, for aught I know, be in earnest when they defend that most erroneous and unnatural principle that ‘we owe nothing to our parents on account that they are the immediate authors of our being.’ But these seem to forget that God himself, the common Father of the universe, urges this as an argument against the ingratitude 313of his people, ‘Is he not thy Father?’ &c. And again, in Malachi, ‘If I be a father, where is my honour?’ Perhaps you will think I am pleading my own cause, and so indeed I am, in some measure; but it is the cause of my mother also, and even your own cause, if ever you should have children, and, indeed, that of nature and civil society, which would be dissolved or exceedingly weakened if this great foundation-stone should be removed.

“You know what you owe to one of the best of mothers. Perhaps you may have read of one of the Ptolemies, who chose the name of Philometer, as a more glorious title than if he had assumed that of his predecessor, Alexander. And it would be an honest and virtuous ambition in you to attempt to imitate him, for which you have so much reason. Often reflect on the tender and peculiar love which your dear mother has always expressed towards you; the deep affliction of both body and mind which she underwent for you, both before and after your birth; the particular care she took of your education when she struggled with so many pains and infirmities; and, above all, the wholesome and sweet motherly advice and counsel which she has often given you to fear God, to take care of your soul as well as of your learning, and to shun all vicious and bad examples. You will, I verily believe, remember that these obligations of gratitude, love, and obedience, and the expressions of them are not confined to your tender years, but must last to the very close of life, and, even after that, render her memory most dear and precious to you.

“You will not forget to evidence this by supporting and comforting her in her age, if it please God that she should ever attain to it, (though I doubt she will not,) and doing nothing which may justly displease or grieve her, or show you unworthy of such a mother. You will endeavour to repay her prayers for you by doubling yours for her; and, above all things, to live such a virtuous and religious life that she may find that her care and love have not been lost upon you, but that we may all meet in heaven.

“In short, reverence and love her as much as you will, which I hope will be as much as you can. For though I should be jealous of any other rival in your heart, yet I will not be jealous of her; the more duty you pay her, and the more frequently and kindly you write to her, the more you will please your affectionate father,

“Samuel Wesley.”^[188]

314This beautiful advice was not lost. Samuel Badcock, (no great friend of the Wesley family,) in the third volume of the “Bibliotheca Topographica Britannica,” published in 1790, writes:—“I have in my possession a letter of this poor and aged parent, addressed to his son Samuel, in which he gratefully acknowledges his filial duty in terms so affecting that I am at a loss which to admire most—the gratitude of the parent, or the affection and generosity of the child. It was written when the good old man was nearly fourscore, and so weakened by a palsy as to be incapable of directing a pen, unless with his left hand. I preserve it as a curious memorial of what will make Wesley applauded when his wit is forgotten.”

The next letter is as characteristic and as full of interest as any of the preceding:—

“Epworth, November 8, 1706.

“Dear Child,—After piety to God and to your parents, your morals will fall next under consideration; or, your duty towards yourself and your neighbour.

“I hope I need not say much of justice toward your neighbour. Its general rules are short and easy. ‘Doing as you would be done by, and loving your neighbour as yourself;’ principles which have been admired by wise and virtuous heathens when they have heard them from the gospel; and which are, indeed, inscribed on the hearts of all mankind as a part of the law—natural, though much obliterated by the lapse of our nature and vicious habits.

“As for the regiment of your passions, all the rest depend, in a great measure, on these two—love and hatred, or rather anger.

“As for love, I shall only say at present that whoever expects to become anything in the world must guard against anti-Platonic love in his youth, shut his eyes and heart against it, burn romances, have a care of plays, and keep himself fully employed in some honest exercise; and then, I think, he will be in no very great danger from it.

“But love takes in all desirable objects, or such as we fancy desirable; and here the rule is, first, that it be fixed upon a lawful object; and then, that it exceed not the due measure; since, if we offend against the former part of this rule, it unavoidably renders us criminal; if against the latter, at least ridiculous, imprudent, and unhappy. Indeed, there is but one object of our love where 315we cannot transgress in loving too much; and that is God. Even mediocrity is here a fault, which is both our wisdom and our virtue in all other cases.

“As for hatred, I can scarce tell how it is possible to have it in extremes against any one. For my own part, I have much ado to hate the devil himself. I am sure I have often pitied him; and I interpret those scriptures which speak of hating the wicked, &c., as relating chiefly to their vices, for which we ought always to have a just abhorrence.

“Anger, and some sort of aversion, I own to be more difficult to subdue, though even these have too often pride or interest at the bottom. There never was a truly great man who could not bridle his passions. This, my boy, is what I wish you would do, what I am sure you may do, and what would render you wiser and greater than most part of mankind. This mastery of yourself will cost you some pains before you can attain it; but it is richly worth all your labour, since this wise and Christian temper will be so far from inviting injuries, that you will have much fewer offered you in the course of your life; and if any should be so devilish as to do it, for that very reason, you will find they will glide very gently off, and leave little or no impression behind them.

“And thus much of the government of your passions.—Your affectionate father,

“Samuel Wesley.”^[189]

Such are a few of the godly letters that were written by the Epworth rector immediately after his release from Lincoln Castle. We are loathe to leave so much Christian serenity, fatherly affection, and manly sentiment, for the region of strife and contest; and yet, to do justice to the subject of these memoirs, we must.

It has been already shown how Samuel Wesley was, unintentionally on his part, involved in the Dissenting controversy. It was most unwarrantable conduct in Mr Clavel to publish a letter which the writer intended to be kept private; but, being published, and being so savagely attacked by Mr Palmer, there was nothing for it but for Samuel Wesley to defend himself. This he did in his pamphlet, published in 1704. In 1705, Palmer published his “Vindication,” in which Wesley was again offensively assailed. Immediately after this, he was subjected to all the disgraceful persecutions 316that have been narrated, and, as a climax to the whole, was thrust, by a revengeful spirit, into Lincoln Gaol. He had already begun his “Reply to Mr Palmer’s Vindication,” and, during his involuntary leisure within his prison-house, he finished it. It consists of 155 pages quarto, and was published “for Robert Clavel, at the Peacock, in St Paul’s Churchyard, in 1707.” It has on the title-page, for a motto, the following sentence from the writings of Defoe:—“How long must we see the reproaches of our Establishment and the insults of the laws, and be bound to silence, and to say nothing for peace’ sake? How long must their false prophets and dreamers of dreams abuse us, and we be obliged to hold our peace?”

The book consists of nine chapters and an introduction.

In the introduction, Wesley states that Palmer has charged him with publishing “scandalous, wicked, malicious, envious, spiteful, injurious, base, bold, daring, rampant, downright, positive, complicated, abominable falsehoods.” He says Palmer regales him by applying to him the epithets following:—“Cruel, unjust, wicked, silly, wretched, flagrant, spiteful, impertinent, insidious, scandalous, impudent, barefaced, perfidious, ingrate, sycophant, delator and informer.”

Wesley’s “Reply” was written at the request of his bishop, who offered to assist him with materials for the work, and revised part of it before it was printed.^[190] It is elaborate and able; but a lengthened review of it, at this period, would be useless. We content ourselves, therefore, with giving a few matters of fact in the order in which the book contains them.

Wesley declares that the Dissenters were now “choosing lads of the most pregnant parts, and were educating them at the public schools of the Church, as St Paul’s and others, with the intention to transplant them thence to Dissenting academies, and from thence into a martial phalanx to attack the Church with greater success than their predecessors”predecessors” (p. 7.)

In the 15th page, Wesley strangely enough “thanks God that the Act of Uniformity is not repealed, and that all the strength of the Dissenters cannot prevail to repeal it!” Remembering what his father and his grandfather were made to suffer by that Act, one cannot help but think that there is hardly good taste in this.

317Wesley says he can give the name of a famed Dissenting minister who was active in taking away all our legal securities, and caballed with those who were favourites at Court. He and his proselytes met at a house not far from the Poultry Church, whither many of the Dissenting ministers usually resorted. When Wesley had just returned to London from the university, those caballers used all the arguments they could think of to persuade him to join them; but he writes:—“I thank God I abhorred their proposals, and never saw them more, unless I accidentally met them,” (pp. 62 and 63.)

Palmer, in his “Vindication,” had alleged that Benjamin Bridgewater, the Calves-head poet, learned to sing “To Puss, Boys” in Trinity College, Cambridge, thereby intending to cast a slur upon the reputation of the Church. Wesley replies:—“I am sorry they won’t suffer poor Ben (my successor in the favours of the party) to be quiet in his grave.” He then proceeds to show that poor Ben, for bad behaviour, was forced to leave Cambridge University some years before the song “To Puss, Boys” was published, and that when he came to London he took sanctuary among Dissenters, and wrote the anthems of the Calves-head Club, by which he became the darling of the party, and was entertained and caressed at their houses,houses,(p. 65.)

Wesley declares that up to the time that his “letter” was published by Clavel, and he published his “Defence,” his best friends were all Dissenters, but that now he had lost their favour, because he could not comply with their proposals to retract the truths that he had written concerning Dissenting matters. He writes:—“You cannot say but that my behaviour towards you has been inoffensive during the many years which have elapsed since I left you. I have received common civilities from some of your persuasion, and have, in my turn, obliged them as occasion offered. I never desired your destruction, but your reformation. I showed no great fondness to engage against you. It was a mere accident that occasioned it, and I sent you fair warning long before I began to write my defence. I am of no party that I know of, unless you reckon those to be such who desire you should neither distress nor overtop the Establishment,” (p. 73.)

Wesley says Palmer accuses him of bowing and cringing to the Dissenters since he had joined the Church. He replies:—“I own this to be true, for I have often asked my father-in-law’s, and my 318mother’s blessing, and I did once bow down in the house of Rimmon; but for the rest nobody ever accused me that my knees were suppled,” (p. 99.)

Wesley relates a story to the effect that on January 31st, 1698, which happened to be Sunday, a clergyman near London was preaching a sermon, from 1 Peter, ii. 13, in reference to the martyrdom of King Charles, and that nine pupils from a neighbouring Dissenting Academy came to hear him. After the service, a deputation of two of them waited upon him and invited him to a noble entertainment to be given the same evening. The clergyman refused. They then began to quarrel with his sermon, and said Charles I. was “a cursed tyrant, and that his death was the just execution of a damned malefactor.” The next day, the same clergyman received a letter signed Timothy Greybeard, stating, that, if he had gone as invited to the supper on the night previous, they would have given him, as “the principal dish, the best calf’s-head they could have procured for love or money; and that, if he had been inclined to drink a health to the sanctified head, there would have been good humming liquor to have washed his conscience in a few gulps,” (p. 100.)

Wesley acknowledges that, when he was a pupil in the Dissenting Academy, three arch lasses made a fool of him by clothing him in a cloak, and sending him through St Paul’s Churchyard to ask for Rochester’s “Divine Poems;” but he indignantly denies that he ever kept any lewd company, though he says it was “one of the happiest providences of his life that he did not, and that he had a narrow escape from debauchery and ruin.” He adds, “Though I kept no such company, I know too many Dissenters that did, and know where they have made assignations with them, in your very meetings, though it is possible that, in twenty years, those ladies may be advanced to a more venerable character than they then possessed,” (pp. 139 and 140.) He further states that the majority of the Dissenters, with whom he had been acquainted, preferred a commonwealth to a monarchy, abhorred the memory of Charles I., and the name and race of the Stuarts; and that they could not deny that lewdness and debauchery were not uncommon in their academies as well as in other places, (p. 143.)

In closing the controversy, Mr Wesley says, that when he was last in London, in January and February 1705, he was often ruffled by being urged to retract, or at least palliate his charges 319against the Dissenters; and that, as he was about to receive the sacrament, he wrote the following protestation, and sent it to the clergyman who was to officiate:—

“I take this opportunity solemnly to declare, that what I have written in relation to the Dissenters, in my letter, and the defence of it, is strictly true, and that I have not wilfully charged them with anything that is otherwise.”

HeHeadds, “After the delivery of this, I bless God I received with as great quiet and satisfaction as I hope I should die with, if God should call me to witness to the truth with my last breath.”

“If in the heat of controversy I have unadvisedly used any expressions in this or in any other of my writings, that either may reflect too severely on a whole body of men, among whom I doubt not there are many who fear God and have a zeal for Him, though I think it is not according to knowledge, or which have not been agreeable to the spirit of Christianity and the example of my great Master, I do heartily, very heartily, ask pardon both of God and them, as I desire the same for my greatest enemies; and having written this, and again and again reviewed and weighed it, I am not much concerned for the consequence of it as to this world, but shall conclude as our Church does one part of our Litany, ‘In all time of our tribulation, in all time of our wealth, in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment—good Lord, deliver us.’”

We now subjoin two letters written by Mr Wesley in the year in which his last controversial work was published. Both were addressed to his son Samuel, now King’s Scholar, in Westminster School:—

“Epworth, October 2, 1707.

“Dear Sam,—Read the histories of Joseph, of Daniel, and of Lot; and, if you please, the thirteenth satire of Juvenal.

“Remember, God sees, and will punish and reward.

“If you can get no other time to say your prayers, you may do it as you seem to be reading, for done it must be, or you know what follows! But have not you time when you sit up to watch?

320“That God may evermore preserve you, is the prayer of your affectionate father,

“Samuel Wesley.”^[191]

“Epworth, Dec. 29, 1707.

“Dear Child,—I was pleased to see in your last that you expressed an inclination to repose a more than ordinary confidence in me. I have endeavoured to show that I really value your affection, and I should be very well satisfied if you looked upon me as your friend, as well as your father. Sammy, believe it, there are but few in the world that are fit to be trusted with our weaknesses and most private thoughts; and yet it is exceedingly convenient to have some one to whom one might safely communicate them, especially in youth, when first launching into the world. I know there are not many who would choose a father for this; but since you are inclined to do it, perhaps it shall not be the worse for you, and I will promise you so much secrecy, that even your mother shall know nothing but what you have a mind she should, for which reason it may be convenient you should write to me still in Latin.

“It is agreed by all that a pure body and a chaste mind are an acceptable sacrifice to infinite Purity and Holiness; and that, without these, a thousand hecatombs would never be accepted. How happy are those who preserve their first purity and innocence; and how much easier is it to abstain from the first acts, than not to reiterate them and sink into inveterate habits! There is no parleying with the temptation to this sin, which is nourished by sloth and intemperance. You have not wanted repeated warnings, and I hope they have not been altogether in vain. The shortness, the baseness, the nastiness of the pleasure would be enough to make one nauseate it did not the devil and the flesh unite in their temptations to it. However, conquered it must be, for we must part with that or heaven! Ah, my boy, what sneaking things does vice make us! What traitors to ourselves, and how false within! And what invincible courage, as well as calmness, attends virtue and innocence!

“Now, my boy, (it is likely,) begins that conflict whereof I have so often warned you, and which will find you warm work for some years. Now vice or virtue, God or Satan, heaven or hell, which 321will you choose? What, if you should fall on your knees this moment, or as soon as you can retire, and choose the better part? If you have begun to do amiss, resolve to do better. Give up yourself solemnly to God and to His service. Implore the mercy and gracious aid of your Redeemer, and the blessed assistance (perhaps the return) of the Holy Comforter. You will not be cast off. You will not want strength from above, which will be infinitely beyond your own, or even the power of the enemy. The holy angels are spectators, and will rejoice at your conquest. Why should you not make your parents’ heart rejoice. You know how tenderly they are concerned for you, and how fain they would have you virtuous and happy.

“I cannot close my letter without adding something remarkable that has lately happened in our town (though it is not over-fruitful in adventures) which may afford you some useful remarks.

“Your worthy schoolmaster, John Holland, whose kindness you wear on your knuckles, after having cost his father, Thomas Holland, two or three hundred pounds at the University, in hopes he would live to help his sister and brothers, and for want of which the poor old man now lies in Lincoln Gaol, without any hopes of liberty unless death should set him free; after having been in thirteen places, and pawned his gown and clothes almost as often, being thrown out wherever he came for his wickedness and lewdness—was making homewards about a month or six weeks since, and got within ten or a dozen miles of Epworth, where he fell sick, out of rage or despair, and was brought home to the parish in a cart, and has lain almost mad since he came hither. Peter Forster, the Anabaptist preacher, gave him twopence to buy some brandy, and thought he was very generous. His mother fell a-cursing God when she saw him. She has been with me to beg the assistance of the parish for him. What think you of this example?—I am, your affectionate father,

“Samuel Wesley.”^[192]

The above letter is a beautiful example of the loving confidence which ought to exist between a father and his children. It also affords incidental evidence, which refutes the commonly-received opinion, that the early education of the Wesley children was devolved exclusively on the mother. There can be no doubt that 322Susannah Wesley educated her children up to a certain point, but who taught the sons and some of the daughters the elements of Greek and Latin? From the foregoing letter, it is undeniable that, though Susannah Wesley was a thorough master of the English language, and had a respectable knowledge of the French, she was not so familiar with Latin as to be able to read it without difficulty; and, if so, there can be little question that, whatever knowledge the sons, and two or three of the daughters had of the classic tongues, was communicated by their father; for, though Samuel seems to have had a half brutalized tutor for a time, there is no evidence that any other of the children had a like provision. In the first place, the rector could not afford it; and, secondly, there was no need of it, for he himself was one of the best classical scholars of his day.

Wesley had now eight children, and two more were intrusted to him afterwards. We have already sketched all that were born up to the year 1697. In 1701 the rector’s wife had twins, both of whom died in infancy. In 1702 occurred the birth of their daughter Anne. At the age of about twenty-three she married Mr John Lambert, a land-surveyor at Epworth. Lambert was an educated man, and was particularly careful to collect the early pamphlet publications of his father-in-law, Mr Samuel Wesley, from which collection, and from Lambert’s manuscript notes, Dr Adam Clarke derived considerable assistance in his compilation of the Memoirs of the Wesley Family. Mr and Mrs Lambert, in 1737, were residing at Hatfield, where they were visited by Charles Wesley. Lambert was betrayed into drinking habits by his brother-in-law, the wretched Wright; but Charles Wesley laboured to reclaim him, and it is hoped with good effect.

In the eventful year 1703, when Mr Wesley’s unfortunate letter was published by Mr. Clavel, his son John was born; but of him we need say nothing.

In 1705, the year that Mr Wesley was imprisoned, another child was born; and, as already stated, was smothered by its nurse, and thrown dead into its mother’s arms.

In 1707, the year in which Wesley wrote the preceding letters to his son Samuel, his daughter Martha was given him. Martha was reputed, by her sisters, to be the mother’s favourite; and certainly Martha loved and almost idolised her mother. From her infancy she was remarkable for deep thoughtfulness, for equanimity 323of temper, and for serious deportment. Her brothers and sisters would use all kinds of witty mischief to ruffle her; but in vain. The likeness between herself and her brother John was so exact, that Dr Clarke declares, if he had seen them dressed in the same attire, he could not have distinguished the one from the other. Their disposition also was the same; and even their hand-writing was so much alike that the one might be easily mistaken for the other. At the age of thirteen, she went to live with her uncle Matthew in London, and remained with him for the space of a dozen years.^[193] Here she became acquainted with Westley Hall, who was one of the pupils of her brother John, at Lincoln College. Hall, at that time, was a man of agreeable person, pleasing manners, and good property. He fell in love with Martha, and made her an offer of marriage. Without consulting any of her family she accepted him. Within a week he went with her brothers John and Charles to Epworth, where he grew enamoured of her younger sister Kezziah, made an engagement to marry her, and was on the point of leading her to the altar, when a sudden qualm of conscience reminded him of his previous engagement, and he came back to Martha. They were married in 1735, (the year in which her father died;) and her uncle Matthew gave her a dowry of £500. Hall, for a time, behaved like a gentleman and a Christian, and honourably fulfilled his duties as a curate of the Church of England at Salisbury. He then became a Moravian and Quietist, an Antinomian, a Deist, if not an Atheist, and a Polygamist, which last he defended in his teaching, and illustrated by his practice. While a curate at Salisbury, he seduced one of his servants, and was afterwards guilty of many similar infidelities. Once when Charles Wesley was preaching at Bristol, and had his sister Patty for a hearer, Hall came into the room and took her off with him. On another occasion at Salisbury, he turned both her and her brother John out of doors. Samuel Wesley, jun., never liked him. In a letter to John he says—“I never liked the man from the first time I saw him. His smoothness never suited my roughness. He appeared always to dread me as a wit. This, with me, is a sure sign of guilt and hypocrisy. He was afraid I 324should see it, if I looked keenly into his eye.”^[194] After being the father of ten children by his wife, nine of whom lie buried at Salisbury, Hall abandoned his family, went off to the West Indies with one of his mistresses, lived with her there till she died, and afterwards returned to England, where, professing penitential sorrow, he was cordially received by his injured and incomparable wife, who showed him every Christian attention till his death, which took place at Bristol, Jan. 6, 1776. John Wesley buried him, and says—“God had given him deep repentance.”

Such was poor Patty’s worthless and vagabond husband; and yet, in the midst of all her trials, she acted the part of a perfect Christian. Out of sheer pity, she actually gave money to one of her husband’s abandoned concubines; and, on another occasion, when he, with frontless inhumanity, brought home one of his illegitimate infants, and commanded his wife to take charge of it till he could make other provision for it, she ordered a cradle to be brought, placed the babe in it, and continued to perform for it all the requisite acts of humanity.

Mrs Hall often dined with Dr Johnson at Bolt Court; he ardently admired her, and always treated her with great reverence and respect. In many cases, her conversation supplied to Johnson the place of books; for her memory was a repository of the most striking events of past centuries; and she had the best parts of all the English poets by heart. Of wit she used to say, she was the only one of the family without it; and her brother Charles remarked that “Sister Patty was always too wise to be witty.” One of her peculiarities was, she could never be induced to behold a corpse, “Because,” said she, “it is beholding sin sitting upon his throne.” Mrs Hall died on the 12th of July 1791, her last words being, “I have the assurance which I have long prayed for. Shout!” She was the last survivor of the original Wesley family; her father, mother, brothers, and sisters having all died before her. In all respects, she was a remarkable woman; but, in Christian charity, was pre-eminent. Her brother Charles was accustomed to say, “It is in vain to give Pat anything to add to her comforts, for she always gives it away to some person poorer than herself.” In the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1791, p. 684, there is the following obituary notice:—“July 12, in the City Road, in her eighty-fourth year, Mrs Martha Hall, widow of the Rev. 325Mr H., and last surviving sister of the Rev. John and Charles Wesley. She was equally distinguished by piety, understanding, and sweetness of temper. Her sympathy for the wretched, and her bounty even to the worthless, will eternise her name in better worlds than this.”^[195]

In the year 1708, Charles Wesley was born, and two years afterwards Kezziah, the youngest of the rector’s children that survived the days of infancy.

Throughout life Kezziah Wesley’s health was delicate, in consequence of which she was prevented from improving a mind that seems to have been capable of high cultivation. When she was about nineteen years of age, she became a teacher in a boarding-school in Lincoln, where she complains of the want of clothes and of money, but wishes to remain for the purpose of completing her education. She had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, both divine and human; but her bad health rendered her almost incapable of close mental application. We refrain from again adverting to the distressing acquaintance with Westley Hall; suffice it to say, that after this she for a time was boarded at the house of the venerable Vicar of Bexley, the Rev. Mr Piers. She afterwards was domiciled with an aunt at Islington, and her brother Samuel offered her a home at Tiverton. It was not long that she needed the kindness of her friends, for, at the age of thirty-one, she peacefully expired. Her brother Charles gives the following account of her death:—“Yesterday morning, March 9, 1741, sister Kezzy died in the Lord Jesus. He finished His work, and cut it short in mercy; full of thankfulness, resignation, and love, without pain or trouble, she commended her spirit into the hands of Jesus, and fell asleep.”^[196]

Such were the members of the Wesley family. “Such a family,” writes Dr Clarke, “I have never read of, heard of, or known; nor since the days of Abraham and Sarah, and Joseph and Mary, has there ever been a family to which the human race has been more indebted.”

Charles Wesley tells us that he has heard his father say, “God had shown him he should have all his nineteen children about him in heaven;”^[197] and there is little doubt that, for more than seventy years past, this hope of the rector has been realised.

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