LIFE OF JOHN CHURCH.

The nearer to Church the further from God!! Old English Proverb.

Dr. Jortin, in his Adversaria, very justly remarks, that “a sudden rise from a low station, as it sometimes shews to advantage the virtuous and amiable qualities, which could not exert themselves before, so it more frequently calls forth and exposes to view, those spots of the soul which lay lurking in secret, cramped by penury, and veiled with dissimulation.”

JOHN CHURCH, better known as the Obelisk Parson, it appears, was abandoned by his parents, when he was scarcely six weeks old, and left exposed in a basket, with little covering to protect him from the inclemency of the weather, on the steps of St. Andrew’s Church, Holborn. In this pitiable state he was found by the overseers of the parish, and sent to the Foundling Hospital; and it was from this circumstance he derived the name of Church. Here he remained until he was nine years old, when a complaint to the Governor’s having been made against him by the nurses that he was addicted to improper and disgusting practices, it was thought prudent to apprentice him out at that early age, in order to prevent the morals of the boys being corrupted from so dangerous an example. He must have quitted the hospital at an earlier age than usual, from his evident illiteracy, and the badness of his writing. In general the boys from this institution are distinguished as good scholars. Church was accordingly placed out as an apprentice to a carver and gilder, in the neighbourhood of Blackfriar’s Road; but before his time of servitude had expired, he married, and abruptly quitted his master. For a short period he followed his business, and worked for a composition ornament maker, in Tottenham-Court-road; but being of an artful disposition, of lazy habits, and with much hypocritical cant, he at length succeeded in imposing upon several religious persons his great anxiety and desire to become a minister of the Gospel. It appears, he commenced his pretended religious career, by taking upon himself the office of a teacher of a sunday school, at that time established in Tottenham Court-road. Thinking that preaching was a more lucrative employment than that in which he was engaged, this hypocritical wretch, together with two other young men, who were also candidates for the gown, hired a garret in Compton-street, Soho, in order to acquire the method of addressing a congregation with confidence. He made a rapid progress in dissimulation, and even at this early period of his religious studies, he laughed in his sleeve at the credulity and ignorance of those persons who were induced to listen to his pious harangues. An old chair was the substitute for the pulpit. He now began, as he termed it, “to gammon the old women.” Good luck procured him the notice of old Mother Barr, of Orange-street, who being interested in his behalf, allowed him the use of a room of her’s, in which he treated her and a few choice labourers in the field of piety, with his rapturous discourses. From this he used to hold forth more publicly. He became acquainted with one Garnet, of notorious memory, who procured him the situation of a preacher at Banbury. It was at this place that he first became obnoxious. But before we proceed further, it may be necessary to inquire by what authority such a man as Church presumed to take upon himself the functions of a minister of the gospel. A man so profligate—so notoriously criminal—come forth to instruct others in religion. It seems, the practice among Dissenters is, that when any man feels a strong desire to become a preacher, he communicates the same to several ministers, who make a strict inquiry into his qualifications as to piety, learning, morals, &c. and if they find these established on satisfactory evidence, they then confer on the candidate a sort of ordination, without which he can have no authority to officiate as a minister of the Gospel. It is evident he must have played the hypocrite in a masterly style, as he did receive an ordination at Banbury, in Oxfordshire. But his real character soon made its appearance, from his having made several violent attempts upon some young men while at the above place, he was driven out from thence, by the trustees of the chapel in which he preached, and the magistrates, and ordered never to shew his face there again. He hastily decamped, leaving behind him his wife and children, and the police-officers having been sent in pursuit of him, their searches proved fruitless, and it was a long time before he was heard of. He then threw off all controul, and acted in defiance of all the ordinances of the Dissenting Church! preaching doctrines tending to encourage licentiousness, and foster the worst of passions. At Colchester he turned the whole congregation against their minister. The mode of healing the consciences of profligate men was practised by the Romish Church before the Reformation, and when it flourished in its rankest state of corruption—when indulgences for sins to be committed, and pardons for sins past, were openly sold for money. The manner in which the Obelisk Preacher conducts the affairs of his chapel bears some resemblance to this practice. He has filled his pockets, it appears, from the money which he has raised by inflaming the passions, and exciting hopes and fears; this pretender of piety has even administered the sacrament to persons who were nearly intoxicated with gin! It is said that Church belongs to that sect called Antinomians, which is thus described by the Rev. John Evans, in his “Sketch of the Denominations of the Christian World:”—“The Antinomian derives his name from Anti and Nomos; simplifying, against, and a Law, his favourite tenet being, that the law is not a rule of life to believers. It is not easy to ascertain what he means by this position, but be seems to carry the doctrine of imputed righteousness of Christ and salvation faith, without works, to such lengths, as to injure, if not wholly destroy, the obligation to moral obedience. Antinomianism may be traced to the period of the Reformation, and its promulgator was John Agricola, originally a disciple of Luther. The Papists, in their disputes with the Protestants of that day, carried the merit of good works to an extravagant length; and this induced some of their opponents to run into the opposite extreme.”—“This sect (says the Encyclopædia) sprung up in England during the protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, and extended the system of libertinism much further than Agricola, the disciple of Luther. Some of their teachers expressly maintained, that as the elect cannot fall from grace nor forfeit the divine favour, the wicked actions they commit are not really sinful, nor are they to be considered as instances of their violation of the Divine Law; consequently, they have no occasion to confess their sins, or to break them off by repentance. According to them, it is one of the essential and distinctive characters of the elect that they cannot do any thing displeasing to God, or prohibited by law.” It may easily be inferred from such doctrine as the above, the dreadful crime men may be induced to commit, without the horrors of conscience or fear of punishment. From his retreat in the country, it seems, he was called to use his influence in town, by a man of his own disgraceful kind, designated Kitty Cambric; and well known at the Swan, in Vere-street. It is notorious from the public exposure of the wretches, who were detected in this street, and brought to punishment, that many of them assumed the name of women, and were absolutely married together, and it appears Church was actually the parson who performed the blasphemous mock ceremony of joining them in the ties of “holy matrimony,” he being nominated their chaplain. He now settled himself at Chapel-court, in the Borough, when his old friend Garrett publicly charged him with a wicked and diabolical offence, as the law says, “not to be named amongst Christians,” and he was obliged to run away from the accusation. By some fortuitous event he, at length, got possession of the Obelisk Chapel, where he began again to deliver his abominable doctrines; and several young men were obliged to leave him, in consequence of his having used them in a manner too indecent to be mentioned or hinted at. The first document we have is letter dated March 7, 1810, from a person, at Banbury, named Hall, of which the following is a copy:—

“Honoured Sir—in reply to your letter concerning Mr. C. I can only inform you, there was a report against him of a very scandalous nature; but how far his culpability extends, it is quite out of my power to determine. He was absent from hence when the rumour first spread. The managers of our chapel took great pains to inquire into the origin of such reports, and the result was, they sent Mr. C. positive orders never, on any account, to return to Banbury again; which advice he has hitherto wisely observed. Now, sir, after giving you the above information, I beg leave to conclude the subject by referring you to your own comment hereon.

(Signed) S. Hall.

Banbury, March 7, 1817.”

Then follows a letter from William Clark, of Ipswich, a young man between 19 and 20 years of age, which contains an account of attempts to horrid to be published. The written confession (frightful indeed it is) of this poor simple young man, whose mind was bewildered by the canting exhortations of Church; and the whole of his statements corroborated by the oral testimony of Mr. Wire, who resides at Colchester, and knows Clark very well. The circumstances related by Clark would have furnished ample grounds for a criminal prosecution had he made his complaint immediately after the assault was committed:—but, suffering under the influence of ignorance and fear, he kept it a secret too long, and afterwards accepted of a pound note from Church. A case was laid before two eminent barristers, to have their opinion whether such a prosecution could be carried on with any prospect of conviction. Their opinion, in writing, is, that after the long concealment of a charge, a jury would pay no attention to his evidence, unless he was confirmed in his story by other evidence.

Extract from the confession of William Clark, of Ipswich.

“Having been called by Providence to Colchester, I went to hear John Church preach in a barn, was invited to Mr. Abbot’s; was prevailed upon to sleep with John Church; I did sleep with him three nights; after being enticed to many imprudencies, I was under the necessity to resist certain attempts, which, if I had complied with, I am fearful must have ruined both soul and body: the crime is too horrid to relate.

Wm. Clark.

Richard Patmore, J. Ellisdon, C. Wire, H. T. Wire. Witnesses.

P.S. This took place in March last, 1812.”

The peace of this poor lad’s mind is completely destroyed, so fatally has the event preyed upon him;—so far as to fill the bosom of his aged father with such a spirit of indignation and revenge, that he actually came up to London with a full determination to be the death of him who had thus ruined the peace of his beloved son, while the mother’s mind was not less distracted than that of the father’s. In consequence of this, the father entered John Church’s meeting-house, with two loaded pistols, one in each pocket; but, under the excess of agitation, he fainted away, and was carried out of the place.

The following will cast some light on the preceding:—

“Colchester, September 16, 1812.

“Sir,

“Last evening I had an interview with Clark’s father, who wishes him to comply with your wishes. I mentioned to him respecting Church’s conduct, and I find the last night to be the worst. Likewise that he would have committed the act had not Clark prevented him. The particulars I told you when in London, but find them worse than what I described to you. They are not able to be at any expense; but if the gentlemen wish to prosecute, and to pay Clark’s expenses up to London, &c. he will have no objection to come when you please to send. I need only say I wish you to inform the gentlemen, and give me a line.

I am, dear Sir, your’s, &c. C. Wire.”

In addition to the above testimonies, a very long narrative of atrocities committed by John Church; while he resided at Banbury, has been written by a minister at that place; but the facts are too disgusting and shocking to be published.

In the month of April, 1813, a Mr. Webster, who was employed in the house of Messrs. Evans and Co. eminent Hop Merchants, in the Borough, having, this being the time the first public exposure of Church’s character took place, asserted his readiness to prove Church’s infamy, was immediately seized upon by a fellow of the name of Holmes, and another creature of the name of Shaw, a sort of attorney in St. George’s Fields, who had been employed by Church, and dragged to a lock-up-house in the Borough, on a charge of riot, of which the following account appeared in the Morning Chronicle.

Riots at the Obelisk.—Tuesday, a Mr. Webster, who is employed in the house of Messrs. Evans and Co. eminent Hop-Merchants, in the Borough, was charged at Union-Hall, by a person of the name of Shaw, with committing a riot and a breach of the peace, on Sunday morning, at the Obelisk, in St. George’s Fields, near the entrance of a chapel belonging to a preacher named John Church. The magistrate said, that as Mr. Birnie, who had, on a former day, heard another case similar to this, was absent, they wished the case might be deferred until next day, and desired Mr. Webster to attend accordingly. The prosecutor observed, that it would be dangerous to allow Mr. Webster to be at large, and desired that he might be kept in custody or held to bail. The magistrate asked if there was any person present ready to be bail for his appearance. Mr. Robert Bell, the Editor of the Weekly Despatch, who accompanied Mr. Webster as his friend, a housekeeper, in Lambeth, said he was ready to bail him. The prosecutor then said, he had also a very serious complaint to make against Mr. Bell, for the article which he published in his last Sunday’s newspaper, respecting Mr. Church, and he had one of the papers in his hand. Mr. Bell told the Magistrates that he was ready to meet any complaint of this kind, that he conceived it to be his duty, as one of the guardians of public liberty, and public morals, to send forth the statement in question; that he could prove the truth of every thing he had written and published. The worthy magistrate then asked Mr. Webster if he would promise, on his honour, to attend next day, which Mr. Webster assured him he would do, and retired. It is necessary to mention that Mr. Webster had been kept in a state of imprisonment during the greater part of Sunday, and all Sunday night.

April 7, 1813, Mr. Webster having appeared again before the magistrates, disclosed, in the course of the examination, the fact of Church having, some years since, made an attempt of an abominable nature, on the person of his younger brother, the magistrate, struck with horror, immediately stopt all proceedings against Mr. Webster, and desired his brother to be brought forward. The office was cleared of all persons, except the parties immediately concerned; the brother’s deposition was taken, and a warrant was issued for Church to appear there the next day.

On Wednesday, J. Church appeared, in consequence of the warrant issued the day before for his apprehension on a charge of abominable practices, attended by a number of his deluded followers. Mr. W. Webster having deposed as to his attempts on him, Church was ordered to find bail for his appearance at the next Middlesex Sessions, and Mr. Webster bound over to prosecute. The magistrate observed that from the length of time which had elapsed since the offence had been committed, he thought a jury would not feel justified in finding him guilty. Mr. Johnston, a young gentleman of the law, who attended for Mr. Webster, replied, that it was not the time for them to discuss what was likely to be the verdict of a jury;—that he had recommended Mr. Webster to prefer an indictment against Church, and Mr. Webster had come to that resolution; and whatever might be the result of the trial, the evidence relating to the conduct of Church would be of that disgusting nature as to stamp his name with eternal infamy and disgrace. Church’s attorney observed that it was a conspiracy amongst another sect to ruin Mr. Church’s character. This Mr. Johnson denied and said that it was merely a desire to bring him to merited punishment. Mr. Johnston also said that if Mr. Church acted like a man of prudence, and consulted his own interest, he would desist from preaching until the indictment had been tried, as it would be the means of preventing a breach of the peace, but this he declined; and Shaw; his attorney, said they should follow their own advice. Mr. Johnston informed Church’s attorney that it was Mr. Webster’s intention to indict, or bring an action against him for an assault and false imprisonment.

On that very evening (incredible as it may appear) this very man held to bail for trial on the most horrid charges, given on oath, had the impudence to go into his chapel and preach to a crowded audience.

On the 6th of June, 1813, the Grand Jury for the county of Middlesex found a bill of indictment against John Church, for his attempt, some years ago, on a lad, named Webster. On the 12th of July following, he was tried and acquitted.—If any surprise is manifested at this acquittal, let it be recollected, that this prosecution was ordered by the magistrates, and did not originate with the prosecutor, William Webster, on whom the abominable attempt was alleged to have been made (now fourteen years ago). The very mention of the attempt was a mere incidental circumstance arising out of another proceeding then before the Magistrates. Let the reader also take notice of the following sentence:—“The magistrate observed, that from the length of time which had elapsed since the offence had been committed, he thought a Jury would not feel justified in finding him guilty.” This William Webster, therefore, must be considered, in all respects, as an unwilling prosecutor. He was supported only by one counsel, then of young standing, (Mr. Adolphus,) who had to struggle against two of the most able advocate (Messrs. Gurney and Alley) in the criminal courts. It appears also that Webster gave his evidence with embarrassment and trepidation, and that he suffered himself to fall into some inconsistencies. With this solitary and confused evidence, and after a lapse—after a silence of ELEVEN YEARS, was it possible to suppose that a Jury would have found any man guilty? But the verdict did not, in the slightest degree, affect any of the numerous accusations, of a more recent date, which have been made against John Church. From the reports that had gone abroad, that he was addicted to certain abominable propensities, gentlemen in the neighbourhood of the Surrey Theatre, dreading the disgrace of pollution which Christianity might suffer from the immoral character of any of its teachers, investigated these rumours, and the following fact came to light.—James Cook was released from his two year’s imprisonment, on the 21st of September, 1813, the landlord of the infamous house in Vere-street. They accidentally met and recognized each other, and a correspondence took place between these old acquaintances, on the 13th of October following. A fac simile of the letter has been published, in Church’s own hand-writing, offering Cook assistance to set up another house, as may be perceived:—

“Dear Sir,

“Lest I should not have time to call or converse with you, as I shall not be alone to Day, I thought it But right to Drop you a Line. I wish you all the success you can desire in getting a house fit for the business in the public line; and, as you had a great many acquaintances, they ought not to fail you; if every one acted right, according to there ability, I am sure you would soon accomplish it. As I am By no means Rich, but rather embarrassed, I hope you will accept my mite towards it, 1l. 1s. and you shall have another as convenient, wishing you all prosperity,

“I Remain Your’s sincerely, J. Church.”

For Mr. Cook, at Mr. Halladay’s, Richmond: buildings, Dean-street.

There is another letter bearing the two-penny post mark of the 20th of October.—It is as follows:—

“Dear Sir,

“I received your note this morning in Bed, as I have contracted such a Dreadful cold Being wet on Tuesday I am very much grieved i have not been able to comply with the request concerning Mr. C— But I shall certainly keep my eye upon him and Do him all the Good it lays in my power where ever he is he knows my Disposition too well to impute any remissness to my conduct But I cannot do impossibilities as I have Lately had and have now Got so many Distressing cases in hand Beside, I will Be sure to call on you as soon as I can—But am not able to day

“I remain Yours, J. CHURCH.

“32 hercules Buildings”

Badly directed to Mr. Oliver, (or Holloway,) No. 6, Richmond’s Buildings, Dean-street, Soho.

The following is a narrative which Cook has given of his acquaintance with Parson Church; and which was taken down from his own dictation by Mr. E— B—:

“In May, 1810, I was in company with Mr. Yardley and another young man by the name of Ponder. I found after that the said Ponder was a drummer in the Guards; I called at a house in the London-road, where I saw Mr. Church the first time in my life: there was at this house about twelve or fourteen altogether, drinking gin, and Mr. Church handed me a glass of the same, which I took; Church behaved very polite to me, and said what a fine fellow I was; he pressed me very much to stop and get tea with them, for he said he would call and see me when I was settled in the house in Vere-street. I stopped a little while, and was about to leave them, when Church said I should not go before I had tea, and flung down, a dollar; and a man, by the name of Gaiscoin, took the money and went for the tea and other things, but I would not stay: Church came out of the room with me, and walked with me as far as the turnpike; there he met another gentleman, which I never saw before, and I went on and left him for that time; I think it was six or eight days. I went to live at the Swan, and saw Church again; he came about three o’clock in the afternoon, and Mr. Yardley accosted him, “Parson, what are you come to see the chapel?” He said “Yes, and to preach too.” Church asked me how I was; I said I was not very well: he asked me why I went away in that shy manner; I told him he was a stranger to me, and I did not like to be intruding on strange people: he said I was shy—he did not know what to make of me; he also pressed me very much to take a walk with him, but I declined it: he said I must go, but I still declined, and did not go with him; he staid some time, and joined the company in the back parlour—persons by the name of Miss Fox and Miss Kitty Cambrick was among them, and the Queen of Bohemia. As Mr. Church was going away, he came to the bar and spoke to me, and said I must take something to drink, which I did, and he paid for it, and left the house for that time. In a few days he called again, in the afternoon, and there was not many people there; he asked if Yardley was at home; I said he was not; he said he was very sorry for it; I asked him what he wanted; he said he came on purpose for me to take a walk with him, but I did not go: he said he would wait until Yardley came in. Church said I should do him a great favour if I would take a walk with him; I would not go—he still pressed me very much to go: I said I would if he would wait till I had cleaned myself: he waited more than two hours for me; I went to sleep because I would not go with him; and in the mean time he waited so long that he was tired; he sent the waiter to call me, which he did, and said the Parson wanted me, and had been waiting two hours for me; I said, let him wait, for I should not come; he returned, and said if I would but speak to him, he should go away happy; I found I could not get rid of him—I went down stairs; he said, well, sir, I hope your nap has done you good; I said, I don’t know, don’t bother me. He said I was very cross to him; I told him there was other men without me; if he wanted to preach, not to preach to me about crossness. He said, well, if that was the case, he was very sorry he had offended me; I told him he had not offended me nor pleased me; but as I was not well, the less any one talked to me the better I liked it; he said, if I was but friends with him, and shake hands with him, he should go away happy. Mr. Yardley said, he never see such a fellow as I was, for I had affronted every body that came to the house. I then shook hands with the Parson, for at that time I did not know his name. He shook hands with me, and we had something to drink, and Mr. Church paid for it and went away. I never saw him till I came out of Newgate; I was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Holloway, and telling them there was a Parson somewhere about St George’s Fields, but his name I did not know. He asked me if I should know him if I saw him, I said I should; by that I went to the chapel and saw Mr. Church, and then I asked the people what was the Parson’s name; they told me his name was Church. I said he ought to be ashamed of himself to preach there, a ******** and rascal, and left the place, and went home in the greatest pains I ever felt in my life, and was resolved to see him, which I did the next day, and give him one of the hand-bills; and the manner he received me, was like a young man would his sweetheart;—I began my conversation; Well, sir, I suppose you do not know me? He said he did not. I said my name was Cook, that kept the Swan, in Vere-street. He said he thought so, but was not sure: he said why did I not call before and shake hands with a-body. I told him I did not know where he lived, nor I did not know his name until I went to the chapel and found him out. He told me not to make it known that he ever came to my house, for he and Rowland Hill had daggers drawn, and that he should be obliged to indite Hill to clear up his character, and for God’s sake do not expose me.”—(Here the narrative breaks off.)

As an orator, he delivers himself in a full, clear, articulate, tone of voice; but, to criticise his style, or analyse the substance of his discourse, would be a fruitless labour; it would be like dissecting a cobweb. Unmeaning rhapsodies and unconnected sentences, through which the faintest gleam of morality is not to be traced, must, from their evanescent nature, set the powers of recollection at defiance, they even escape the lash of contempt. But, to gratify the reader, the following notes of a SERMON was taken down in short-hand as he delivered it:—

“God is frequently going forth, and we also are often going to the window to look for him; the more vile I am made to appear to the world, the more God will assist me. Every citizen is a free-born. Many have wondered how I could go through so much trouble. There have been a great many that have wished to see me—I can inform them, I had much rather they had wished to see Christ. People may be laughed at for being fools, but, you may depend upon it, the more God will like them. All that believe not will certainly be damned. The duties of christianity are not to be preached to an ungodly world. John Church is very much spoken of, but they had much better speak of Jesus. The people of the established church feel no spiritual joy. Spiritual discourse is enlivening to the senses. &c. The bread of life is not to be given away to dogs. I am not going to turn auctioneer, but I am going to inform you, that, next Lord day, I am going to publish a book, proving that God, the Son, and the Spirit, are all one great God. My sermon will be good news and comfort to all poor sinners. Satan and all his spirits never sleeps; the power of life and death is only in the hands of our Lord Jesus Christ. Devils are allowed to harass the people of God day and night,—no wonder they perplex those they can’t destroy. People are mostly liable to fall, in their first love, into awful heresies and temptation. All the Lord’s people do not see into the glory of my text—’tis like a jewel in a rock of adamant.—The worst sin was the murdering of God’s saints. When I sit in darkness the Lord will be a light unto me. I am never tired of preaching, and, I believe, my dear brethren are never tired of hearing me. Many men laugh at the doctrine of the new birth—are there not many learned doctors that know nothing of it? Let a man come under any circumstances, I will receive him—Don’t laugh at the doctrine of inspiration; be wise, it has often been preached by our church. If every one that is saved should be as bright as the sun, what a place heaven must be, where there will be so many millions! Angels beckon me away, and Christ bids me come. The sight of Christ, you may depend on’t, will be worth suffering for. O that I had the voice of an archangel, I would indeed do wonders. I doubt the superiority of one angel over another in heaven—Christ is entirely independent of or with God. We must have the spirit of God before we are his people. Believe in the predestination of eternal life, but not in eternal death; people that suffer were before-hand predestined so to do by God. Bad or horrid is the religion of a proud pharisee. The MOB is seldom stirred up but through priests; there is now a case of the very kind: envy bursts forth through jealous and envious neighbouring priests, and published by deists, there can be nothing to fear; and, I verily believe; that any thing prayed for to Christ will certainly be granted, as has always been the case with me. Let us for ever endeavour to turn every thing, whether good or bad, into good. I do not care who hears me, whether God or man, friends or foes, devils or angels, or any thing else; and let them call me an Antinomian again if they please. There must be spiritual life in the soul. I do not believe that God begot Jesus Christ—they say too that Joseph was an impostor, at this very day:—everything that is done against the church is done against Christ; also, that which is done against Christ is done against the church; and anything done against the people of God is done against Christ. It is a most blessed thing that we can throw our burthens upon Christ. That religion that is preached by the people of God is God himself. There can be no going forth until the spirit of God has entered. The Lord Jesus Christ and the people of God are all one. Christ has no sorrow but the people of God must sympathise with him; and the people of God have no affliction but that Christ sympathises with them. This monster—when he was about to preach, would frequently say to his favorites;—“Well, I am going tip ’em a gammoning story, my old women would believe the moon to be made of green cheese, If I was to tell them so. And I must tell them something.”

In consequence of a respectable young tradesman, in the Borough, Mr. E— B—, who was one of his hearers, becoming disgusted with his hypocrisy, and some attempts he had made upon him, leaving him altogether, he wrote the following beastly epistles:—

Had this wretch received a classical education, one might suppose he had been writing a paraphrase on Virgil’s eclogue, beginning with the line—Formasum Pastor Corydon Ardebat Alexin.

Copy of a letter, written by the Rev. John Church, Minister of the Obelisk-Chapel, Blackfriars’-Road, to Mr. E— B—, Rodney-Street, Kent-Street, Borough, dated March 3, 1809.

“Dear Ned,

“May the best blessings be yours in life and in death, while the sweet sensations of real genuine disinterested friendship rules every power of your mind, body, and soul. I can only say I wish you as much captivated with sincere friendship as I am; but we all know our own feelings best. Friendship, those best of names,—affection, those sweetest power,—like some powerful charm that overcomes the mind. I could write much on this subject, but dare not trust you with what I could say, much as I esteem you.—You would consider it unmanly and quite effeminate; and having already proved what human nature is, I must conceal even these emotions of love which I feel. I wish I had the honour of being loved by you as much and in as great a degree as I do you. Sometimes the painful thought of a separation overpowers me; many are now trying at it; but, last night, I told the persons that called on me that, let them insinuate what they would, I would never sacrifice my dear Ned to the shrine of any other friend on earth; and that them you did not like, him should have none of my company at all. I find, dear Ned, many are using all their power to part us; but I hope it will prove in vain on your side: the effect all this has upon me is to make me love you ten times more than ever. I wish opposition may have the same effect upon you in this particular; but I fear not. However, I am confident if you love me now, or any other time, my heart will ever be sat upon you, nor can I forget you till death. Your leaving of me will break my heart,—bring down my poor mind with sorrow to the grave, and wring from my eyes the briny tears, while my busy meddling memory will call to remembrance the few pleasant hours we spent together. I picture to my imagination the affecting scene, the painful thought. I must close the affecting subject; ’tis more than my feelings are able to bear.—My heart is full, my mind is sunk.—I shall be better when I have vented out my grief. Stand fast, my dearest Ned, to me: I shall to you whether you do to me or no; and may we be pardoned, justified, and brought more to the knowledge of Christ. O help me to sing—

When thou, my righteous judge, shall come To fetch thy ransom’d people home, May I among them stand; Let such a worthless worm as I, That sometimes am afraid to die, Be found at thy right hand.

I love to be among them now, Before thy gracious feet to bow, Though vilest of them all; But, can I bear the piercing thought, What if my name should be left out, When thou for them should call.

Learn these two verses by heart, and then I will write two more, as they are expressions of mind, fears, sensations, and desires.—I must close, I long to see your dear face again, I long for Sunday morning, till then God bless you.

I remain unalterably thy dear, thy loving friend. J. Church.”

Another letter was received by Mr. E— B— on the 15th of March, 1809, from Church, without a date, as follows:

“Dear Sir,

“Is this thy kindness to thy once professed much loved friend, surely I never, never, did deserve such cruel treatment at your hands; why not speak to me last night in James-Street when you heard me call, stop! stop! Ned! do, pray do; but cruel, cruel, Ned, deaf to all intreaties—O why was I permitted to pass the door of Mr. Gibbons when you and West were coming out. Why was I permitted to tramp up and down the New Cut after you; I only wanted to speak one bitter, heart-breaking, painful, distressing, word, farewell: I only wanted to pour my sorrows into your bosom, to shake hands with you once more, but I was denied this indulgence. I never, never, thought you would deceive me—O, what an unhappy man am I; the thing that I most feared is come upon me, no excuse can justify such apparent duplicity; O, my distress is great indeed. O my God! what shall I do? O Christ! O God! support me in this trying hour, what a night am I passing through; I cannot sleep, its near three o’clock; alas! sleep is departed, how great my grief, how bitter my sorrows, the loss of my character is nothing to the loss of one dearer to me than anything else. O let me give vent to tears; but I am too, too, much distressed to cry; O that I could. I feel this like a dagger; never, never, can I forgive the unhappy instrument of my distress in Charlotte-street. Why did my dear friend Edward deceive me? O how my mind was eased on Wednesday night; alas, how distressed on Thursday. I have lost my only bosom friend, nearest, dearest, friend, bosom from bosom torn, how horrid! Ah, dear Suffolk-court, never surely can I see you again. How the Philistines will triumph; there, so would we have it: how Ebeir, Calvin, Thompson, Edwards, Bridgman, all will rejoice, and I have lost my friend, my all in this world, except the other part of myself, my wife, and poor babes; never did I expect this from my dear E— B—. O for a calm mind, that I might sleep till day-light; but no, this I fear will be denied me. How can I bear the piercing thought, parted; a dreadful word, worst of sensations, the only indulgence, the only confident, the only faithful, the only kind and indulgent, sympathising, friend, to lose you. O what a stroke; O what a cut, what shall I do for matter on Sunday; O that I could get some one to preach for me; how can I lift up my head. O sir, if you have a grain of affection left for me, do intreat of God to support me; this is a worse affliction than the loss of my character nine months ago. A man cannot lose his character twice. O, I did think you knew better; I did think I had found one in you that I could not find elsewhere; but no, the first object presented to you, seen suddenly, gained your mind, gained your affections; and I, poor, unhappy, distressed, I, am left to deplore your loss. O for submission, but I am distressed; woe is me. O that I had never, never, known you, then I should never feel what I do; but I thank you for your company hitherto, I have enjoyed it four months exactly, but this is over for ever; miserable as I am, I wish you well for ever, for ever. I write in the bitterness of my soul which I feel. May you never be cursed with the feelings I possess as long as you live. What a day I have before me! I cannot go out of my house till Sunday morning. How can I conceal my grief from my dear wife?—how shall I hide it?—what shall I say?—I am miserable, nor can I surmount the shock at all. I have no friend to pour out my sorrows to now, I wish I had; I am sorry you are so easily duped by any to answer their purposes: my paper is full, my paper is full, my heart is worse; God help me! Lord God support me! What shall I do, dear God! O Lord have mercy on me! I must close; this comes from your ever loving, but distressed,

J. Church.”

In addition to the confession made to Mrs. Hunter, the following confessional letter from Church, was sent to the great surprise of the Rev. Mr. L—, two days after the offence had been committed. It appears that Church was but very slightly known to the above gentleman, in consequence of some money transactions having passed between them:—

Dear Sir—Surely upon the reception of this short note you will say, ah, Church is like all the rest of the parsons, promise much and do little, yea nothing: to your note I can only with a pained heart reply I cannot indeed—I can scarcely write this note, my soul is too deeply pierced. About eight or nine years ago Dr. Draper left the church in the Borough and God opened Chapel-court for me, many attended and have been blest, now a singular providence, but a most distressing one, has occurred to take me shortly from my dear, dear family and beloved congregation. But God has sent Mr. L— to preach all the truth to my poor dispersed flock, at least so it appears to me, and I would do all the good to promote the success of Mr. L— that my poor people might not be starved till I return to them in peace, which may be many months. My heart is broken, my enemies have ruined me at last, and I shall never, never surmount it, an unpleasant affair happening at Vauxall, is added too, and I must take the consequences: no arm can help, relieve, or deliver, but the Lord’s, and I feel persuaded the Lord will not: judge my feelings if you can. I shall secretly come and hear you, to get all the good I can to a heart deprest, disconsolate, and full of woe. Oh, the joy of my enemies! Oh the distress of my friends! Oh, my poor heart! Let a sigh go up to God for me when you can.

Your’s, in the utmost distress,

J. C.

The following bad character has been given of Church by Mr. and Mrs. Gee, of the New Cut, who keep a cake-shop, where he once lodged:—

“Mr Church, the minister, lodged at our house a year and a half, and left last year at Lady Day.

“We were in hopes that we were about to have a godly praying minster in our house; and to be sure the first night he had somewhat like a prayer, and that once afterwards were the only times he ever went to family prayer in our house. Nor could they have any prayer, as he would be frequently out almost all hours of the night, and would lie in bed till ten in the morning. Several times he and his wife would have skirmishings and fightings between themselves, while the children would be left to run about the streets out of school hours, and allowed to keep company with children that would swear in our hearing most shockingly. His children were always left to be very dirty, and would be sent sometimes three or four times in a morning for spirituous liquors of all sorts. As for reading good books, or even the Bible, he scarce ever thought of it, but would spend a deal of his time in loose and vain talk, in walking about, and fawning upon young men, that was his chief delight.

“Sundays and working days were all alike to them, for they would send out to buy liquors, and whatever else they wanted, on Sundays as well as other days.

“The house would be frequently more like a playhouse (I might say a bawdy house) than a minister’s house, were a set of young people would come and behave more indecently than ought to be mentioned. Even one Sunday morning they made such an uproar as that they broke one of the windows, after that they would go with him to his chapel, and, after that, he would give the sacrament to such disorderly people, let their characters be ever so loose.

“He was always ready to go fast enough out to dinner or supper where he could get good eating and drinking, but poor people might send to him from their sick bed times and times before he would come to them. Seeing so much of his inconsistencies and shocking filthiness in their rooms, (though they always paid their rent,) we were determined to give them warning to quit our house, and we do not think that a worse man or woman ever came into any house before, especially as Mr. Church pretended to preach the gospel; such hypocrites are much worse than others, and, besides this, we never heard a man tell lies so fast in all our lives. It is a great grief to us that ever we went to hear him preach, or suffered him to stop so long in our house.”

George and Frances Gee.

It appears from the testimony of George Tarrier, and James Russell, of Redcross-street; of Richard Jessop, of Castle-street; and William Williams of the Mint; that the Rev. John Church, on the 16th of November, 1809, also attended at the funeral of Richard Oakden, a clerk in the Bank, who was hung before Newgate, for an abominable offence, on 14th November, 1809. This pious minister and his partizans returned to the Hat and Feathers, Gravel-lane, kept by a Mr. Richardson, where the funeral set out from, to partake of a jovial dinner. His conduct here, it seems, was beyond description.

It is averred, that his wife, upon hearing the infamy of his conduct took to drinking, to avoid reflection, which soon occasioned her death. But, within the last three months since, he has been charged with the above detestable offence, in order (we presume under the mask of hypocrisy,) to rescue, in some degree, his character from the public odium with which it had been marked, he has been induced to marry a respectable woman, who kept a seminary for young ladies at Hammersmith. The verdict of “Guilty” had been scarcely pronounced, when the relatives of the children, with the greatest promptitude possible, took them all away from the said school.

Some time previous to the commission of the offence for which Church has been at last convicted he made an attempt, in the open street, on the person of a poor Frenchman, who had him conveyed to the watchhouse, where a long examination took place, but the proof not being very conclusive, the affair was hushed up.

Since his conviction, Church has resided at the house of a friend, where his followers are admitted to see him on producing a card signed by himself, on which are inscribed certain texts of scripture. Will this wretch never cease blaspheming the holy scriptures by his appropriation of them!

It may not be improper to state one of the tricks made use of to threw the prosecutor off his guard. A limb of the law, it appears, of the Jewish persuasion, gratuitously offered to conduct the prosecution for the young man; but upon a refusal being given him, on account of Mr. Harmer being selected for that purpose, it was ultimately discovered that this philanthropic Israelite had been exerting himself towards exculpating Church, with all the ingenuity he was master of in his defence, from the heinous offence alleged against him. The “laws delay” was resorted to, but only to put off the trial till the next assizes, but the expenses materially increased, as a means of deterring the prosecutor from proceeding. It is, however, lamentable to observe, that the charges in bringing such a wretch to justice, should amount to eighty or ninety pounds!

From the acknowledgement of this monster himself, the profits of this precious recepticle produced him from £1000 to £1200 annually.

At length, this precious hypocrite, who has so long set all decency at defiance, by public preaching, notwithstanding his diabolical well known propensities, has been found guilty of the crime he has so long (and so numerously) been charged with. Much as it might be wished that such a monster, under the disguise of that sacred habit, which at all times is entitled to reverence, should be consigned with his crimes to oblivion. But such suppression would be doing a serious injury to public morals. Delicacy at all times ought to be a paramount consideration, but there are cases in which a great deal more injury both to morals and liberty may arise from the suppression than the exposure of indecencies. This we apprehend to be one of that sort, and great care has been taken to avoid entering into any disgusting particulars. It is due to the community at large that such a dangerous character should be exposed to society, and it is equally important to that sacred body, who can only rise or fall in public estimation from their good conduct.

He will be brought up the first day of next term to receive judgement in the Court of King’s Bench. Mr. Gurney we understand, although he so ably and eloquently defended the guilty monster, Church, undertook his cause with the greatest reluctance.