The Oxford Methodists

Other Oxford Methodists

It is difficult to determine the exact number, who, at one time or another, were Oxford Methodists. As early as the year 1733, four had left the brotherhood, three of the seceders being pupils of Wesley, and one under Clayton’s care. Wesley writes:—

“I think, in the year 1735, we were fourteen or fifteen in number, all of one heart and of one mind.”275

The “fourteen or fifteen” included the two Wesleys and Whitefield, Memoirs of whom have been designedly omitted in the present work. There were, also, Clayton, Ingham, Gambold, Hervey, and Broughton, with whom the reader has been made acquainted. Besides these, Robert Kirkham, Charles Morgan, William Smith, and Matthew Salmon, who have been briefly noticed, were, less or more, connected with them. Seven others, standing in the same relationship, must now be mentioned,—namely, Messrs. Boyce, Chapman, Kinchin, Hutchins, Atkinson, Whitelamb, and Hall. This is a greater number than that stated by Wesley; but it must be recollected, that, in 1735, Oxford Methodism was in the seventh year of its existence, and that some of its first members had then left the University.

Rev. Mr. Boyce

Of Mr. Boyce we know nothing, except that his father lived at Barton.276 Did he subside into an ordinary country parish priest,—pious and plodding, but unenterprising and unknown? To say the least, it would be interesting to know his career, after he left Oxford. Will some one, better informed than the present writer, furnish what is lacking?

Rev. William Chapman

The history of William Chapman also is wanting. He was ardently attached to the two Wesleys; but, strangely enough, they never mention him. After their departure from Oxford, he was the nightly companion of Hervey; but, excepting the letter, dated “June 12, 1736,” already given in Hervey’s Memoir (page 208), we possess no epistolary correspondence between the two. Chapman, like all the other Oxford Methodists, was humble, earnest, and devout. The following, hitherto unpublished, letter affords ample evidence of this. It was addressed “To the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, at Savannah, in Georgia, America.”

“Pembroke College, September 3, 1736.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—Your kind concern and repeated endeavours for my spiritual good, while at Oxford, will not suffer me to think, that, you have utterly lost all remembrance of me, though you have given me no testimony of your affection since your leaving England. What shall I conjecture this silence to be owing to? I will not inquire; but rather take it as a providential punishment and scourge, for my slow and slender proficiency under the blessed means I enjoyed of your’s, and your dear brother’s conversation.

“Too, too late, alas! do I see how dreadfully I was wanting to myself in not heartily embracing so glorious an opportunity of laying in a stock of spiritual courage, sufficient to have carried me victoriously on through a host of enemies. How does my base ingratitude to my Heavenly Benefactor, like a frightful spectre, present itself before me, for rejecting those kind offers of health and salvation! And for not disengaging myself from that bane of our spiritual progress,—the fear of the world,—which was always as fetters upon my feet, and manacles on my hands! O! through what a waste of uncomfortable, barren, and dry ground,—through what a wilderness of sorrows, perplexities, and distress, have I not been led, under the conduct of this delusive spirit; when the holy and loving Spirit of God would have led me into pleasant pastures, and refreshed my thirsty soul with the waters of comfort, and conducted me into those paths, which are pleasantness and peace. But, blessed be God! for the sense of these things, though, indeed, not till driven to it, by the pungency of the affliction, by the misery and torment of a divided state of heart, and the perpetual conflicts I endured. Blessed be the most high God! I am once again, I trust, in the strait and narrow way, that leadeth to the kingdom of heaven; from which that I may never stir a foot, till the cord of life is loosed, I dare say, you will not cease earnestly to request at the throne of grace.

“I am sorry, I deferred writing till it was too late to say more; though I cannot help telling you, before I conclude, that, I sit every evening with Mr. Hervey,—that great champion of the Lord of Hosts; and, that, I read, five times a week, to a Religious Society, in St. Ebbs’ parish.

“Dear Sir, God Almighty prosper all your endeavours for the good of souls! Depend upon it, in due time, you will reap, and that abundantly, if you faint not. My prayers are with you. O! that my body was there too, that, I might make up what I have lost, under such shining examples. Do, dear Sir, write me a long letter, by the first opportunity. Adieu! God and the Angels be with you!

“I am yours, my dear Brother, sincerely in Christ,

“W. Chapman.

“My Lady Cocks and sisters are now in Oxford; and they desire their best services to you, and wish you good luck in the name of the Lord.”

It is hoped, that, this fragment of the religious experience of the Oxford Methodists will not be unacceptable. The men were intensely earnest and sincere, but not happy.

Rev. Charles Kinchin

Charles Kinchin, a Fellow of Corpus Christi College,277 left Oxford about the same time the Wesleys did, and became Rector of Dummer, a small village of about four hundred inhabitants, with a benefice, at present, worth more than £400 a year. Like a good Oxford Methodist, he visited from house to house, catechised the children, and had public prayers twice every day,—in the morning, before the people went to work, and, in the evening, after their return.

Towards the end of 1736, being likely to be chosen Dean of Corpus Christi College, he requested Whitefield to supply his place at Dummer, while he was absent on the business of the pending election. Whitefield writes:—

“Mr. Kinchin’s parish, consisting chiefly of poor and illiterate people, my proud heart, at first, could not well brook. I would have given all the world for one of my Oxford friends, and mourned, for lack of them, like a dove. But, upon giving myself to prayer, and reading Mr. Law’s excellent character of Ouranius, in his Serious Call to a Devout Life, my mind was reconciled to such conversation as the place afforded me. Mr. Kinchin loved his people, and was beloved by them. I prosecuted his plan, and generally divided the day into three parts, eight hours for study and retirement, eight hours for sleep and meals, and eight hours for reading Prayers, catechising, and visiting the parish. The profit I reaped, by these exercises, and conversing with the poor country people, was unspeakable. I soon began to be as much delighted with their artless conversation, as I had been formerly with the company of my Oxford friends; and frequently learnt as much by an afternoon’s visit, as in a week’s study.”

Kinchin being elected Dean of Corpus Christi, was now frequently obliged to reside at Oxford; but he still retained his rectory at Dummer, where Whitefield was succeeded by Hervey. The Dean, however, continued faithful to the principles of the Methodists, and, on the removal of Hervey, Whitefield, and others from the University, willingly took upon himself the spiritual charge of the Oxford prisoners. Charles Wesley on his return from Georgia, hastened to Oxford, where, in February, 1737, he met with his “old pupil, Robert Kirkham,” “good Mr. Gambold,” “poor languid Smith,” and “Mr. Kinchin,” whom, says he, “I found changed into a courageous soldier of Christ.” A year afterwards, W. Seward, speaks of Kinchin expounding at Oxford, and of “forty gownsmen” being among his auditors.278

On March 15th, 1738, Wesley and Kinchin set out for Manchester, accompanied by Kinchin, and a Mr. Fox, who had been an inmate of Oxford prison. An extract from Wesley’s Journal will help to illustrate the character, not of Wesley only, but, of Kinchin. Wesley writes:—

“1738. Tuesday, March 14. I set out,” from Oxford, “for Manchester, with Mr. Kinchin, Fellow of Corpus Christi, and Mr. Fox, late a prisoner in the city prison. Between five and six, we called at Chapel-on-the-Heath; where lived a poor man, sometime prisoner in the castle of Oxford. He was not at home; but his wife came to us, to whom Mr. Kinchin spoke a few words, which so melted her heart, that she burst out into tears, and we went on rejoicing and praising God.

“About eight, it being rainy and very dark, we lost our way; but, before nine, came to Shipston, having rode over, I know not how, a narrow foot-bridge, which lay across a deep ditch near the town. After supper, I read prayers to the people of the inn, and explained the Second Lesson; I hope not in vain.”

There is something beautiful in all this:—the two Oxford Methodists and an ex-prisoner, in a dark and rainy night, making the lanes ring with their praises to the Almighty, and, in the absence of a church, using a country inn, for reading the Church liturgy and expounding the word of God. Wesley proceeds:—

“The next day, we dined at Birmingham, and, soon after we left it, were reproved for our negligence there, in letting those, who attended us, go without either exhortation or instruction, by a severe shower of hail. At Hedgeford, about five, we endeavoured to be more faithful; and all who heard seemed serious and affected.”

Here, again, is a useful lesson. As yet, neither Wesley nor Kinchin had found peace with God, by trustful faith in Christ. They were, if the reader likes the designation, legalists,—men seeking to be saved by their own good works. Be it so; but, in their conscientiousness with regard to duty, and in their earnest desire to be useful to their fellow-men, they set an example to Christian travellers, which is not generally followed. Wesley continues:—

“In the evening, we came to Stafford. The mistress of the house joined with us in family prayer. The next morning, one of the servants appeared deeply affected, as did the ostler, before we went. Soon after breakfast, stepping into the stable, I spake a few words to those who were there. A stranger, who heard me, said, ‘Sir, I wish I was to travel with you;’ and, when I went into the house, followed me, and began abruptly, ‘Sir, I believe you are a good man, and I come to tell you a little of my life.’ The tears stood in his eyes all the time he spoke; and we hoped not a word which was said to him was lost.

“At Newcastle, whither we came about ten, some, to whom we spoke at our inn, were very attentive; but a gay young woman waited on us, quite unconverted: however, we spoke on. When we went away, she fixed her eyes, and neither moved nor said one word, but appeared as much astonished as if she had seen one risen from the dead.

“Coming to Holms-Chapel about three, we were surprised at being shown into a room where a cloth and plates were laid. Soon after, two men came in to dinner. Mr. Kinchin told them, if they pleased, that gentleman would ask a blessing for them. They stared, and, as it were, consented; but sat still while I did it, one of them with his hat on. We began to speak on turning to God, and went on, though they appeared utterly regardless. After a while, their countenances changed, and one of them stole off his hat, and, laying it down behind him, said, all we said was true; but he had been a grievous sinner, and not considered it as he ought; but he was resolved, with God’s help, now to turn to Him in earnest. We exhorted him and his companion, who now likewise drank in every word, to cry mightily to God, that, He would ‘send them help from His holy place.’

“Being faint in the evening, I called at Altrincham, and there lit upon a Quaker, well skilled in, and therefore, as I soon found, sufficiently fond of controversy. After an hour spent therein, perhaps not in vain, I advised him to dispute as little as possible; but rather follow after holiness, and walk humbly with his God.”

Men like Kinchin and Wesley will never be without adventures. This long three days’ journey, in the wintry weather, was filled with incidents, by the earnest efforts of the travellers to be of service to those with whom they met. They were scholars, gentlemen, and philanthropists. Religion was all in all to them. They lived it; looked it; breathed it. Everywhere, in the humble home of the quondam prisoner, the town hotel, the country inn, and the ostler’s stable,—among waiters, fellow-travellers, and disputatious Quakers,—they were equally about their Master’s business. Would, that, in these days of unequalled locomotion, men of such a spirit and of such behaviour were multiplied!

Three days were spent in Manchester, one of them “entirely with Mr. Clayton, by whom,” says Wesley, “and the rest of our friends here, we were much refreshed and strengthened.” On the Sunday, both the Oxford Methodists “officiated at Salford Chapel”; and, on Monday, March 20th, they set out on their return to Oxford. Wesley writes:—

“Early in the morning, we left Manchester, taking with us Mr. Kinchin’s brother, for whom we came, to be entered at Oxford. We were fully determined to lose no opportunity of awakening, instructing, or exhorting, any whom we might meet with on our journey. At Knutsford, where we first stopped, all we spake to thankfully received the word of exhortation. But, at Talk-on-the-Hill, where we dined, she with whom we were was so much of a gentlewoman, that, for near an hour, our labour seemed to be in vain. However, we spoke on. Upon a sudden, she looked as one just awakened out of sleep. Every word sunk into her heart. Nor have I seen so entire a change, both in the eyes, face, and manner of speaking, of any one in so short a time.

“About five, Mr. Kinchin riding by a man and woman double-horsed, the man said, ‘Sir, you ought to thank God it is a fair day; for, if it rained, you would be sadly dirty with your little horse.’ Mr. Kinchin answered, ‘True; and we ought to thank God for our life, and health, and food, and raiment, and all things.’ He then rode on, Mr. Fox following; the man said, ‘Sir, my mistress would be glad to have some more talk with that gentleman.’ We stayed, and when they came up began to search one another’s hearts. They came to us again in the evening, at our inn at Stone, where I explained both to them and many of their acquaintance, who were come together, that great truth,—godliness hath the promise both of this life, and of that which is to come.

“Tuesday, March 21. Between nine and ten, we came to Hedgeford. Just then, one was giving an account of a young woman, who had dropped down dead there the day before. This gave us a fair occasion to exhort all that were present, ‘so to number’ their ‘days,’ that, they might apply their ‘hearts unto wisdom.’

“In the afternoon, one overtook us, whom we soon found more inclined to speak than to hear. However, we spoke, and spared not. In the evening, we overtook a young man, a Quaker, who afterwards came to us, to our inn at Henley, whither he sent for the rest of his family, to join with us in prayer; to which I added, as usual, the exposition of the Second Lesson. Our other companion went with us a mile or two in the morning; and then not only spoke less than the day before, but took in good part a serious caution against talkativeness and vanity.

“An hour after, we were overtook by an elderly gentleman, who said he was going to enter his son at Oxford. We asked, ‘At what college?’ He said, he did not know; having no acquaintance there on whose recommendation he could depend. After some conversation, he expressed a deep sense of the providence of God; and told us, he knew God had cast us in his way, in answer to his prayer. In the evening, we reached Oxford, rejoicing in our having received so many fresh instances of that great truth, ‘In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.’”

In a moral and religious sense, this episode in the lives of the two Oxford Methodists is pre-eminently picturesque. The two were of one mind and heart, and all their energies and time were devoted to the service of their great Master.

Four days were spent at Oxford, during which Wesley met Böhler, and was “amazed more and more, by the account he gave of the fruits of living faith,—the holiness and happiness which he affirmed to attend it.” And, on Easter Monday, April 3rd, at Kinchin’s desire, Wesley went with him to Dummer, where he remained, for him, the unusually lengthened period of a fortnight. Here they doubtless pondered Böhler’s doctrines, and brought them to the test of Scripture; and here, perhaps, was held a meeting, which Wesley mentions, without giving the date and place of it.

“Soon after my return to England,” he writes, “I had a meeting with Messrs. Ingham, Stonehouse, Hall, Hutchins, Kinchin, and a few other clergymen, who all appeared to be of one heart, as well as of one judgment, resolved to be Bible-Christians at all events; and, wherever they were, to preach, with all their might, plain old Bible Christianity.”279

Among others at Dummer, in whose religious interests Wesley took an active interest, was Kinchin’s sister, who, three weeks after his departure, wrote to him, as follows:—

“You have been, I hope, an instrument, under God, of reclaiming me. I certainly was in a very unhappy state when you were here. God will recompense you for your prayers and kind offices. May my good God pour down the choicest of His blessings upon you, your mother, brothers, and sisters, and give us all grace, to strive and struggle against our sins. I beg you to join with me, in praying God to show forth His power in me. What a frail creature am I? I am afraid, I am sorely afraid, of falling back. What shall I do? What shall I do? O pray, I may put my whole trust in God, who is able and willing to help me.”280

Kinchin himself also wrote to Wesley the following simple and humble letter:—

“May 2, 1738.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—My Lord and my God has made His servant a minister of the Gospel of His Son. He has committed to my care many immortal souls. And I am but a little child. I know not how to go out, or come in. Pray, therefore, earnestly for me, that, God would give His servant an understanding heart, to lead and instruct His people; that, I may discern between what is good and bad; for who is able to walk discreetly and uprightly before such a worldly-minded and refractory people? I beg the prayers and directions of my friends.

“My sister is much mended in health. She has received much benefit from you, under God, as to her spiritual concerns.

“Pray, write speedily to your sincere friend and servant,

“C. Kinchin.”281

Letters like these show the religious confidence and friendship which Kinchin and his sister cherished towards Wesley.

Kinchin, as yet, was only a penitent inquirer. In the month of August, 1738, Charles Wesley went to Oxford, and met him and Gambold, who, says he, “surprised me, by receiving my hard saying, that they had not faith. I was ashamed to see the great thankfulness, and child-like loving spirit of Mr. Kinchin, even before justification.” They attended together a Society meeting, where C. Wesley read his sermon on, “The Scripture hath concluded all under sin.” He writes,—

“I urged upon each my usual question, ‘Do you deserve to be damned?’ Mrs. Platt, with the utmost vehemence, cried out, ‘Yes, I do, I do!’ I prayed, that, if God saw there any contrite soul, He would fulfil His promise, of coming and making His abode with it. ‘If Thou hast sent Thy Spirit to reprove any sinner of sin, in the name of Jesus Christ, I claim salvation for that sinner.’ Again Mrs. Platt broke out into strong cries, but of joy, not sorrow, being quite overpowered with the love of Christ. I asked her, if she believed in Jesus. She answered in full assurance of faith. We sang and rejoiced over her (she still continued kneeling); but her voice was heard above ours. Mr. Kinchin asked, ‘Have you forgiveness of sins?’ ‘I am perfectly assured I have.’ ‘Have you the earnest of the Spirit in your heart?’ ‘I have; I know I have: I feel it now within.’ Her answers to these and the like questions, were expressive of the strongest confidence, to the great encouragement of all present.”282

This, especially at the time, was a strange scene; and Kinchin was there as a listener and a learner. Soon after this, the two Wesleys and Whitefield were almost uniformly excluded from the pulpits of the Established Church. During the year 1739, Wesley himself was not allowed to preach in more than eight; and one of these was the pulpit of his friend Kinchin. In the month of March, when at Oxford, he wrote,—

“At my return to Mrs. Fox’s, I found our dear brother Kinchin, just come from Dummer. We rejoiced, and gave thanks, and prayed, and took sweet counsel together; the result of which was, instead of setting out for London, as I designed, I set out for Dummer, there being no person to supply his church on Sunday.”

Wesley, and his brother, and Whitefield were now, by force of circumstances, evangelistic itinerants; ordained clergymen, without churches, and yet preaching everywhere; and Kinchin was inclined to join them. It was, at this momentous period, that Hervey wrote to him the letter, dated, “April 18, 1739,” an extract from which has been already given (see page 220). Whether that letter turned him from his purpose, there is no means of knowing. Any how, his decision, comparatively speaking, was of little consequence, for his work was nearly ended. In spirit, in aim, and in doctrine, however, he thoroughly sympathized with his outcast brethren, and, in time of need, sought their counsel and their prayers. The following is an extract from a long letter addressed to Wesley, and hitherto unpublished.283

“Dummer, October 9, 1739.

“My dear Brother,—I am just setting out for Oxford, and thence, probably, for London, in order to print my sermon, on the Necessity and Work of the New Birth. I have revised and enlarged it, have made a Preface, and also written a Dedication to the vice-chancellor, Dr. Mather, the Heads of Houses, with their Societies. Mr. Hutchins has perused the whole. I shall have him at Dummer while I am absent. I asked the vice-Chancellor for the use of the University press; but his answer was, that, he could not consent to it. I have written him a letter, desiring him to peruse the discourse, before he absolutely refuses the press; but he has made no reply. I propose, therefore, to wait upon him at Oxford, to know whether he received my letter. I also intend to ask Mr. Gambold and Mr. Wills to peruse my sermon. If I had any opportunity, I would be glad for you to see it too. I desire your prayers, and the prayers of your friends around you, that, God will bless my journey, and my design in publishing the discourse.

“We all join in love to you, and all around you; and constantly pray for you, and desire your prayers. If you write within a week, direct to Mr. Fox’s.

“Your unworthy brother,

“C. Kinchin.”

In a little more than two years after this, Kinchin entered into rest. Wesley writes:—

“1742. January 4. This day, I understand, poor Charles Kinchin died.

“Cui pudor, et justitia soror,
Incorrupta fides, nudaque veritas,
  Quando ullum invenient parem?”

This was high praise from a man like Wesley; but it was not unmerited.

Rev. Richard Hutchins, D.D.

It has been already stated, that, Dr. Hutchins was Hervey’s tutor. We have no further information concerning him, except the following, kindly supplied, from the Register of Lincoln College, Oxford, by the present Rector:—

“1720. December 8. Richard Hutchins, B.A., was admitted to the rights and privileges of a Fellow of Lincoln College.”

“1739. November 6. Mr. Hutchins was chosen Sub-Rector.”

“1742. November 6. Mr. Hutchins was chosen Bursar and Librarian.”

“1755. July 9. Richard Hutchins, D.D., Fellow in one of the Founder’s Fellowships for the Diocese of Lincoln, was, on this day, unanimously elected Rector of this College. And straightway a letter was drawn up, in the very words prescribed by the College Statutes, in order to its being sent to the Lord Bishop of Lincoln, sealed with the college seal, and subscribed by all the electors present, certifying their said election to his lordship, and praying him to admit to the Rectorship of this College the said Richard Hutchins, Sub-Rector.”

“Dr. Richard Hutchins, our late worthy Rector, departed this life, on Friday, 10th August, 1781.”

The only publication by Dr. Hutchins, which we have seen, is a Latin sermon, delivered at the time of his being made Doctor of Divinity, in 1747, and with the following title,—“Elucidatio Sexti Capitis Evangelii secundem Johannem, in solenni Praelectione habita in Schola Theologica Oxon, pro Gradu Doctoris in Theologia. A. Ric. Hutchins, S. T. B. Colleg. Lincoln Socio., 1747,” 8 vol. 51 pp. The sermon is learned and spiritual; and the reader may infer what were the views and sympathies of its author, when it is stated, that, the third and principal division, is, that, the body and blood of Christ are communicated to the faithful in the Eucharist. In more respects than one, Dr. Hutchins continued an Oxford Methodist long after all his old friends had been dispersed.

Rev. Christopher Atkinson

In the Parish Register of Thorp-Arch, near to Wetherby, in the county of York, there is the following entry, in Christopher Atkinson’s own hand-writing:—

“The Rev. Christopher Atkinson, born in the parish of Windermere, Westmoreland, April, 1713, was inducted Vicar of Thorp-Arch and Walton, in July, 1749.”284

Here, for a quarter of a century, Mr. Atkinson lived and laboured. He and Ingham were not distant neighbours, and close at hand were flourishing societies of Methodists; and, yet, there is no evidence, that either Ingham, the Wesleys or Whitefield ever paid him visits. Why was this? It is impossible to tell. The two villages of Thorp-Arch and Walton were small, not containing a population of more than about three hundred each; but they were not remote from Otley, Leeds, and York, places which Wesley, at least, often visited.

Mr. Atkinson had a large family, and a church income hardly equal to his wants.285 One of his sons, the Rev. Miles Atkinson, rose to considerable eminence. Besides being Vicar of Kippax, Lecturer of the parish church in Leeds, and Incumbent of St. Paul’s, in that important town, he was the author of “Practical Sermons,” in two octavo volumes, and had the honour of being sneered at by the half-infidel Monthly Review of the period in which he lived. The famous “Billy” Dawson was greatly benefited by his ministry and friendship in early life; and, in 1779, at Atkinson’s request, Wesley preached in the parish church, at Leeds, to such a congregation as had seldom been assembled within its walls. In spirit and in doctrine, Miles Atkinson was thoroughly in harmony with the Methodists; and, from such a circumstance, perhaps, it may with safety be inferred, that, in this respect, he was walking in the footsteps of his father.

A happy death is generally the sequence of a holy and useful life; and such a death was that of Atkinson, the Oxford Methodist. The details are here given in the language of the son just mentioned. He visited him on the day of his decease, and thus writes:—

“My father walked out of doors to the very last, even in the morning of the day he died. I said to him, ‘I hope, sir, your confidence is in the Lord Jesus Christ.’ He answered, ‘Entirely. I have no hope or confidence but in Him only. I am very sensible, that, I am, in myself, a poor, guilty, helpless sinner before God. I find, I have been guilty of every sin. There is not a commandment which I have not broken; but the Lord Jesus Christ is my Saviour. His blood is sufficient for me. I rest upon His promises, and, (laying his head upon his breast and looking up) ‘I feel the Spirit of God now supporting me.’

“Two of his twelve children had not arrived; but, fearing his understanding might begin to fail, I asked him if he would like my mother and the rest of his children to be called up, that we might pray together, and receive his blessing. He immediately assented, and desired me to pray. The scene was very affecting. He seemed to be very fervent; and, when the prayer was over, he tenderly and affectionately saluted us all, and invoked the blessing of God in Christ Jesus. Soon after, he spoke to me about the place in the churchyard, where he wished his body to be laid, and then said, ‘Oh, son, I now feel the vanity of life. We often talk in health about its emptiness; but this is the trying hour. I now experience it. My God! what a condition should I now be in, if the business of eternity was unbegun!’ And, then, he proceeded to speak of Christ and the happiness of heaven. His voice faltered; but, at one time, I heard him say ‘Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly;’ and, at another, ‘I have finished my course, I have fought the good fight. Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me in that day.’ He next addressed his children, and said, ‘My dear children, whatever you have seen faulty in me, be careful to avoid; if you have seen anything praiseworthy, that imitate and pursue. But, oh! mind the one thing needful. Let God be your portion. Seek unto Him through the gracious Redeemer, and doubt not but He will provide for you what is necessary in this world. My dear wife, trust in God. O, my God, look down upon this my family, and let Thy blessing rest upon them! Guide them by Thy blessed Spirit!’

“He continued praying, in a kind of feeble murmur until about the three last breaths he drew; and then, at half-past four o’clock, on Monday afternoon, July 11, 1774, expired, aged sixty-one years, leaving behind him a wife and twelve children.

“His last words to one of his daughters were, ‘My love, would you recall me from happiness?’”

Christopher Atkinson lies interred in the burial ground of Thorp-Arch church, of which he was the minister for five-and-twenty years.

Rev. John Whitelamb

John Whitelamb, the son of poor parents, was born in 1707, in the neighbourhood of Wroot, a small village of about three hundred inhabitants, in the county of Lincoln. The village stands upon an eminence, surrounded by 60,000 acres of land, which, in Whitelamb’s days, were often flooded, rendering Wroot accessible only by boats. The land, also, even at the best of times, was fenny, moorish, swampy.

About the time of Whitelamb’s birth, Henry Travis, Esq., of London, bequeathed three hundred and seventy-nine acres of land, for the endowment of three schools, at Wroot, Hatfield, and Thorne, in which children, male and female, were to be taught to read English, especially the Bible and Catechism, and to be well instructed in the principles of the Christian religion. The Archbishop of York was to be special visitor; the children were to be elected by the clergyman of each of the three respective parishes, and by his churchwardens; and on leaving school, and attaining the age of seventeen, each scholar was to be presented with a Bible and the “Whole Duty of Man.” It was in the charity school, at Wroot, that Whitelamb received the rudiments of his education.

It is well known, that, Wesley’s father was rector of both Epworth and Wroot, and that his greatest literary work was his “Dissertationes in Librum Jobi,” a large-size folio book of 600 pages. Samuel Wesley was employed upon this remarkable production for more than five-and-twenty years. On leaving school, young Whitelamb became his amanuensis. For four years, he was occupied in transcribing the aged rector’s Dissertations. He also designed its illustrations, several of which he also engraved.

While resident beneath the roof of Samuel Wesley, Whitelamb acquired a sufficient knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, to enter Lincoln College, Oxford, where he was principally maintained by the Epworth Rector, and had Wesley for his tutor.

Samuel Wesley was a large-hearted man, to whom it was always a happiness to have the power of showing kindness to a fellow-creature. His own early life had been an almost friendless one. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, he had to pursue it “under difficulties.” Bitter experience had taught him the preciousness of a friend’s assistance. These facts were quite sufficient to render the poor boy, from the Wroot Charity School, an object of affectionate regard; but there were others beside these. John Whitelamb was the son of one of Samuel Wesley’s peasant parishioners; as an amanuensis, he had rendered the Rector important service for four long years; and, more than that, he had been the means of saving the Rector’s life. In a letter, dated, “Epworth, September 5, 1728,” Samuel Wesley writes:—

“God has given me two fair escapes for life within these few weeks. The first was when my old nag fell with me, trailed me in the stirrups by one foot, and trod upon the other, yet never hurt me.

“The other escape was much greater. On Monday week, at Burringham Ferry, we were driven down with a fierce stream and wind, and fell foul against a keel. Two of our horses were pitched overboard, and the boat was filled with water. I was just preparing to swim for life” (he was then sixty-six years of age), “when John Whitelamb’s long legs and arms swarmed up into the keel, and lugged me in after him. My mare was swimming a quarter of an hour; but, at last, we all got safe to land. Help to praise Him who saves both man and beast.”

Remembering all this, it will be felt, that, it was a grateful, as well as generous, act, for Samuel Wesley to send his youthful helper and deliverer to Lincoln College, Oxford.

Whitelamb’s going to Oxford must have taken place soon after Samuel Wesley’s providential deliverance from being drowned; for, five years after this, he had finished his collegiate education, and become the Rector’s curate, and son-in-law.

Whitelamb was a steady student. “John Whitelamb,” wrote Wesley, in 1731,—

“Reads one English, one Latin, and one Greek book alternately; and never meddles with a new one, in any of the languages, till he has ended the old one. If he goes on as he has begun, I dare take upon me to say, that, by the time he has been here four or five years, there will not be such an one, of his standing, in Lincoln College, perhaps not in the University of Oxford.”

Like his patrons, however, Whitelamb was very poor; and poverty always implies trials. The young gentlemen of Oxford, as a rule, had ample means, and could dress accordingly; but Whitelamb, without a purse, had to submit to the indignity of wearing a worn-out college gown. Wesley, his tutor, pitied him, and yet had scarcely the ability to help him. Hence the following, to his brother Samuel, under the date of “November 17, 1731:”

“John Whitelamb wants a gown much, and I am not rich enough to buy him one at present If you are willing that my twenty shillings (that were) should go toward that, I will add ten to them, and let it lie till I have tried my interest with my friends to make up the price of a new one.”

No wonder that Susannah Wesley used to call Whitelamb “poor starveling Johnny.” His position was a proud, and yet a painful one.

In 1733, Whitelamb became Samuel Wesley’s curate, and, soon afterwards, married his daughter Mary. Whitelamb’s wife was eleven years older than himself; and, through affliction in early life, and, probably, some mismanagement in her nurse, was of stunted growth, and considerably deformed; but her face was exquisitely beautiful, and her amiable temper made her the delight and favourite of the whole of the Wesley family. In her elegy, written by her accomplished sister Mehetabel, and published in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1736, are the following lines:—

“From earliest dawn of life, through Thee alone,
The saint sublime, the finished Christian shone;
Yet would not grace one grain of pride allow,
Or cry, ‘Stand off, I’m holier than thou!’
With business or devotion never cloyed,
No moment of thy time passed unemployed,
Nor was thy form unfair, (though Heaven confined
To scanty limits thy exalted mind).”

“Witness the brow, so faultless, open, clear,
That none could ask if honesty was there:
Witness the taintless lustre of thy skin,
Bright emblem of the brighter soul within:
That soul, which, easy, unaffected, mild,
Through jetty eyes, with cheerful sweetness smiled.
But, oh! could fancy reach, or language speak
The living beauties of thy lip and cheek,
Where nature’s pencil, leaving art no room,
Touched to a miracle the vernal bloom,
Lost though thou art in Stella’s faithful line,
Thy face, immortal as thy fame, should shine.”

Such was John Whitelamb’s wife. To provide for the newly-married pair, Samuel Wesley resigned to Whitelamb his rectory at Wroot. The village was sequestered, and the surrounding country, to a great extent, a swamp. The church, also, was extremely unpretending, and its walls composed of boulder stones which, in 1794, were used in paving Epworth streets. Still, there was a field for usefulness, and a benefice, which now is worth about £260 a year. Samuel Wesley’s letter to the Lord Chancellor is so characteristic of both himself and his son-in-law, that its insertion is not irrelevant.

“January 14, 1734.

“My Lord,—The small rectory of Wroot, in the diocese and county of Lincoln, is in the gift of the Lord Chancellor, and, more than seven years since, was conferred on Samuel Wesley, rector of Epworth. It lies in our low levels, and is often overflowed. During the time I have had it, the people have lost the fruits of the earth to that degree, that it has hardly brought me £50 per annum, omnibus annis; and, some years, not enough to pay my curate there his salary of £30 a year.

“This living, by your lordship’s permission and favour, I would gladly resign to one Mr. John Whitelamb, born in the neighbourhood of Wroot, where his father and grandfather lived; when I took him from among the scholars of a charity school (founded by one Mr. Travers, an attorney), brought him to my house, and educated him there, where he was my amanuensis for four years, in transcribing my ‘Dissertations on the Book of Job,’ now well advanced in the press; and was employed in drawing my maps and figures for it, as well as we could by the light of nature. After this, I sent him to Oxford, to my son John, Fellow of Lincoln College; under whom he made such proficiency, that he was, the last summer, admitted, by the Bishop of Oxford, into deacon’s orders, and became my curate at Epworth, while I came up to town to expedite the printing of my book.

“Since then, I gave my consent to his marrying one of my seven daughters, and they are married accordingly; and, though I can spare little more with her, yet I would gladly give them a little glebe land at Wroot, where, I am sure, they will not want springs of water. But they love the place, though I can get nobody else to reside on it.

“If I do not flatter myself, he is indeed a valuable person, of uncommon brightness, learning, piety, and indefatigable industry; always loyal to the king, zealous for the Church, and friendly to our dissenting brethren. For the truth of this character I will be answerable to God and man.

“If, therefore, your lordship will grant me the favour to let me resign my living unto him, and please to confer it on him, I shall always remain, your lordship’s most bounden, most grateful, and most obedient servant,

“Samuel Wesley.”

His lordship complied with this request, and, in the Gentleman’s Magazine for the ensuing month, February, 1734, in the list of ecclesiastical preferments, was the following:—“Mr. Whitelamb to the rectory of Wroot, Lincolnshire.”

Immediately after, Whitelamb and his wife removed to Wroot, and took “true pains among the people.” Their parsonage is thus described by Samuel Wesley, junior:—

“The house is good, and strong, and clean,
Though there no battlements are seen,
But humble roof of thatch, I ween,
  Low rooms from rain to cover.
Where, safe from poverty, (sore ill!)
All may live happy if they will,
As any that St. James’s fill,
  The Escurial, or the Louvre.”

Their parishioners were sketched by Mehetabel Wesley, in the lines following:—

“High births and virtue equally they scorn,
As asses dull, on dunghills born;
Impervious as the stones, their heads are found,
Their rage and hatred, steadfast as the ground.”

The pictures are not attractive; but, despite their thatched residence, and the boorishness of the people among whom they lived, Whitelamb and his wife were happy. Their union, however, was of brief duration. Within one short year of her marriage, the grave received all that was mortal of Mrs. Whitelamb and her infant child. She died in childbirth, at the end of October, 1734.

This was a terrible stroke to the young husband. For a season, he was inconsolable, and, to divert him from his trouble, his father-in-law brought him to the Epworth Rectory. This was just about the time when Oglethorpe returned from Georgia, whither he had gone with his first company of motley emigrants. Samuel Wesley, now within six months of his decease, took an intense interest in the Georgian colony, and declared that, if he had been ten years younger, he would gladly have devoted the remainder of his life and labours to the emigrants, and in acquiring the language of the Indians among whom they had to live. Among others who had gone to Georgia with Oglethorpe, and had returned with him, was John Lyndal, one of Samuel Wesley’s parishioners, of whom the venerable Rector earnestly inquired whether the ministers who had migrated to the infant colony understood the Indian language, and could preach without interpreters. All this tended to turn poor Whitelamb’s thoughts to Georgia; and, five weeks after Mrs. Whitelamb’s death, the Rector of Epworth wrote to General Oglethorpe as follows:—

“Epworth, December 7, 1734.

“Dear Sir,—I cannot express how much I am obliged by your last kind and instructive letter concerning the affairs of Georgia. I could not read it without sighing, when I reflected on my own age and infirmities, which made such an expedition utterly impracticable for me. Yet, my mind worked hard about it; and it is not impossible but Providence may have directed me to such an expedient as may prove more serviceable to your colony than I should ever have been.”

Samuel Wesley then proceeds to give an account of the life of Whitelamb, and continues:—

“I consented to his marrying one of my daughters, there having been a long and intimate friendship between them. But neither he nor I were so happy as to have them live long together; for she died in childbed of her first child. He was so inconsolable at her loss, that I was afraid he would soon have followed her; to prevent which, I desired his company here at my own house, that he might have some amusement and business, by assisting me in my cure during my illness.

“It was then, sir, I received the favour of yours, and let him see it for diversion; more especially, because John Lyndal and he had been fellow-parishioners and schoolfellows at Wroot, and had no little kindness one for the other. I made no great reflection on the thing at first; but, soon after, I found he had thought often upon it; was very desirous to go to Georgia himself; and wrote the enclosed letter to me on the subject. As I knew not of any person more proper for such an undertaking, I thought the least I could do was to send the letter to your honour, who would be so very proper a judge of the affair; and, if you approve, I shall not be wanting in my addresses to my Lord Bishop of London, or any other, to forward the matter as far as possible.

“As for his character, I shall take it upon myself to say, he is a good scholar, a sound Christian, and a good liver. He has a very happy memory, especially for languages, and a judgment and intelligence not inferior. My eldest son, at Tiverton, has some knowledge of him; my two others, his tutor at Lincoln, and my third, of Christ Church, have been long and intimately acquainted with him; and, I doubt not, they will give him, at least, as just a character as I have done.

“And here I shall drop the matter till I have the honour of hearing again from you, ever remaining your honour’s most sincere and most obliged friend and servant,

“Samuel Wesley.”

Samuel Wesley died within five months after the date of this application to Oglethorpe; his son-in-law, John Whitelamb, for some unknown reason, did not go to Georgia; but his sons John and Charles set sail for the recently founded colony on October 14, 1735.

Did Whitelamb miss the way of Providence in not becoming a Georgian missionary? Perhaps he did. At all events, the remaining thirty-four years of his life seem to have been of comparatively small importance to his fellow-men. While the two Wesleys, his brothers-in-law, and Whitefield, were preaching everywhere, and, with Christian heroism, were braving the most infernal and brutish persecutions; while Clayton, in Manchester, was living the active life of a Church of England Ritualist, and Ingham, in Yorkshire, was performing the part of a useful evangelist; while Gambold was restraining Moravian follies, and Broughton was doing his utmost to disperse Bibles, and religious books and tracts;—poor, bereaved Whitelamb seems to have sunk down into a disconsolate and nearly useless widowerhood, and to have spent,—wasted, we had almost said,—his dreary life among the unappreciative dolts, so graphically described by his deceased wife’s sister—Mehetabel. It is true, he had the care of about three hundred souls; but, with his natural ability and collegiate education, he might, in addition to fulfilling his parochial duties, have rendered other service to the Church of Christ, and to mankind at large. At all events, his venerable patron did not sleep away his probationary being as his son-in-law, John Whitelamb, did.

It is a significant fact, that, though Whitelamb lived at Wroot nearly forty years after Wesley began his itinerant career, and though the visits of the latter, to Epworth and the neighbourhood, were numerous, he never, excepting once, and that during his first evangelistic tour to the north of England, came to Wroot. He writes:—

“1742, Sunday, June 13. At seven I preached at Haxey, on, ‘What must I do to be saved?’ Thence I went to Wroot, of which, as well as Epworth, my father was rector for several years. Mr. Whitelamb offering me the church, I preached, in the morning, on, ‘Ask, and it shall be given you;’ in the afternoon, on the difference between the righteousness of the law and the righteousness of faith. But the church could not contain the people, many of whom came from far; and, I trust, not in vain. At six, I preached in Epworth churchyard to a vast multitude gathered together from all parts, on the beginning of our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount. I continued among them for near three hours, and yet we scarce knew how to part.”

It ought to be said, that, Wesley had been at Epworth and in the neighbourhood for the last eight days. He had preached from his father’s tombstone, from, “The kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost;” and again, from, “By grace are ye saved through faith;” and a third time from, “Unto him that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted to him for righteousness;” and a fourth, either from the tombstone or in the street, on Friday, the 11th of June, on, “Ezekiel’s vision of the resurrection of the dry bones;” and a fifth, on the day before he went to Wroot, from the same subject as he took at the afternoon service in Whitelamb’s church. His visit had occasioned immense excitement. During the sermon, on Friday, “lamentation and great mourning were heard; God bowing the hearts of the people, so that, on every side, as with one accord, they lifted up their voice and wept aloud;” and, on Saturday, he writes:—

“While I was speaking several dropped down as dead; and such a cry was heard of sinners groaning for the righteousness of faith as almost drowned my voice. But many of these soon lifted up their heads with joy, and broke out into thanksgiving, being assured that they now had the desire of their soul—the forgiveness of their sins.”

Whitelamb was present at one, at least, of these Epworth services; and, like others, was deeply impressed with the preacher’s doctrines; but, strangely enough, seems not to have spoken to him. Two days afterwards, however, he wrote to Wesley, and this, probably, occasioned the visit to Wroot just mentioned. His letter was as follows:—

“June 11, 1742.

“Dear Brother,—I saw you at Epworth, on Tuesday evening. Fain would I have spoken to you, but that I am quite at a loss how to address or behave. Your way of thinking is so extraordinary,286 that, your presence creates an awe, as if you were an inhabitant of another world. God grant you and your followers may always have entire liberty of conscience! Will you not allow others the same? Indeed, I cannot think as you do, any more than I can help honouring and loving you.

“Dear sir, will you credit me? I retain the highest veneration for you. The sight of you moves me strangely. My heart overflows with gratitude. I feel, in a higher degree, all that tenderness and yearning of bowels with which I am affected towards every branch of Mr. Wesley’s family. I cannot refrain from tears when I reflect, ‘This is the man, who, at Oxford, was more than a father to me. This is he whom I have there heard expound, or dispute publicly, or preach at St. Mary’s, with such applause. And Oh that I should ever add, whom I have lately heard preach at Epworth!’287

“I am quite forgot. None of the family ever honours me with line! Have I been ungrateful? I appeal to sister Patty; I appeal to Mr. Ellison,288 whether I have or no. I have been passionate, fickle, a fool, but I hope I shall never be ungrateful.

“Dear sir, is it in my power to serve or oblige you in any way? Glad I should be, that, you would make use of me. God open all our eyes, and lead us into truth, whatever it be.

“John Whitelamb.”289

This is a curious letter. It is evident, that, there was, at least, a partial estrangement between Whitelamb and the Wesley family. Correspondence had ceased; and, even when Wesley visited Epworth, and Whitelamb was one of his hearers, they parted without speaking. Why was this? Whitelamb did not believe in Wesley’s doctrines; but that is hardly sufficient to account for such a fact. Perhaps the reason may be found in Whitelamb’s own confession, that, he had “been passionate, fickle, and a fool,” though it is impossible to tell to what such words referred. In the melancholy state of mind in which he obviously was, the epithets might be a severer condemnation of himself than his spirit and behaviour had merited. Be that as it may, though Whitelamb lived for twenty-seven years after this, and though, with undeniable sincerity, he professes great gratitude for the past kindness of the Wesley family, and ardent and affectionate admiration of Wesley himself, this was the winding up of their friendly intercourse. Wesley says, with what correctness we know not, that, at “this time, and for some years afterwards,” Whitelamb “did not believe the Christian Revelation;” but whether Wesley meant, that, Whitelamb was a disbeliever in the Bible as a whole, or only in those doctrines of the Bible which Wesley and his friends were daily preaching, it is impossible to say. If he meant the former, we incline to think there must have been some mistake; for, unless Whitelamb were the most arrant knave, he must, in such a case, have relinquished his high office of the Christian ministry. If Wesley meant the latter, his words are too strong, and it was an injustice to Whitelamb’s character and memory to insert them in the Arminian Magazine.

Wesley’s and Whitelamb’s intercourse, at Wroot, seems to have been friendly and pleasant; but allowing the Arch-Methodist to preach in the humble pulpit of the little church gave great offence, and perhaps this was one of the reasons why Wesley ceased to visit him. The following letter, written within three months after Wesley’s visit, is full of interest, and furnishes additional evidence, that, the young widower had been guilty of serious follies, and, as a consequence, had been eschewed by the Wesley family. It was addressed to Wesley’s brother Charles.

Wroot, September 2, 1742.

“Dear Brother,—I must make bold to give you that title. I was informed, that, you have entertained so hard an opinion of me as scarcely to hear me named with patience. This made me fear, the sight of me would not be agreeable. However, I have ventured to write, lest I should confirm that opinion by a behaviour that seems to show neglect and ingratitude.

“It is probably not in my power to alter your sentiments of me; but there is a day, which you and I expect, when it will appear, that, J. Whitelamb was never either ungrateful, or vicious; though, by the heat of youthful blood, and the want of experience of the world, he has been betrayed into very great follies.

“I had the happiness and honour (for I account it both) of seeing and conversing with my brother John, when he was last over. He behaved to me truly like himself. I found in him, what I have always experienced heretofore, the gentleman, the friend, the brother, the Christian.

“Dear sir, command me in anything, whereby I can show my regard to you, or the family; provided conscience be not concerned. Alas! that I should be forced to distinguish Mr. Wesley, from the preacher! My brother John demanded290 my pulpit. By the authority of a tutor, and one to whom I have so great obligations, he has the disposal of whatever is mine. However, I find, by the outcry it caused, that it gives very great offence. I know not what measures may be taken against me, this triennial visitation; nor am I so solicitous about it, as I am uneasy that the interest of religion and the public peace should, in the least, suffer by my means.

“For, to be frank, I cannot but look upon your doctrines as of ill consequence. Consequence, I say; for, take them nakedly in themselves, and nothing seems more innocent, nay, good and holy. Suppose we grant, that, in you and the rest of the leaders, who are men of sense and discernment, what is called the seal and testimony of the Spirit, is something real; yet, I have great reason to think, that, in the generality of your followers, it is merely the effect of a heated fancy.

“So much for dispute; and I beg you will forgive me it. Oh that we could so have met, as that there should have been no contention, but in loving one another!

“I promised my tutor to write to him. Since then, I have had a dangerous illness. I am scarce well recovered; and, besides, it has left behind such a drowsy disposition, as I have not yet had resolution to conquer. I hope to fulfil my promise shortly. I have endeavoured to lay myself quite open to truth; and this (with shame I ought to say it) has cost me some pains. My dear mother Wesley, and poor sister Kezzy are gone.291 God of the spirits of all flesh, grant us all to meet in a happy eternity!

“Dear brother, are you in earnest in what you teach? I cannot persuade any of my friends that you are. If you be, give me your prayers. If not, do not, as you have formerly done, ridicule me for being too religious. You little thought, when you laughed at me, for being shocked at your gay discourse, that you yourself should come to maintain the very notions which I had then.

“I am, your obliged and most affectionate brother,

“John Whitelamb.”292

The last sentence of this letter is significant. John Whitelamb was religious before Charles Wesley was. When Charles was elected to Christ Church, in 1726, he was a sprightly, rollicking young man, with more genius than grace. In 1728, or 1729, “he began to attend the weekly sacrament, and induced two or three other students to attend with him;” and this was really the beginning of the Methodist movement. It is a curious fact, that, this was the very time when Whitelamb went to Oxford. Was John Whitelamb, a young man of twenty-one, fresh from the religious atmosphere of the Epworth rectory, the means of reforming the sprightly Charles Wesley; and, in that indirect way, the means of Methodism being started? The question has never before been put; and it is one which, perhaps, cannot, with certainty, be answered.

Of the last twenty-seven years of Whitelamb’s life we know nothing. More than a quarter of a century ago, an aged female, at Wroot, had a distinct recollection of him, and described him “as a person of retiring habits, and fond of solitude.” She was present when he was suddenly seized, while on his way to perform divine service at the church, with the illness which shortly terminated in his death; and spoke of his funeral as having been attended by a considerable number of clergymen, who thus paid their last tribute of respect to a departed friend.293

Whitelamb died in the month of July, 1769; and, three months afterwards, Wesley wrote to Mrs. Woodhouse, of Epworth, as follows:—

“1769, October 4. How long is it since Mr. Whitelamb died? What disease did he die of? Did he lie ill for any time? Do you know any circumstances preceding or attending his death? Oh, why did he not die forty years ago, while he knew in whom he believed? Unsearchable are the counsels of God, and His ways past finding out.

“John Wesley.”294

Wesley evidently knew nothing of the circumstances of Whitelamb’s death; and his contrast in reference to the religious state of the deceased rector of Wroot “forty years ago” appears to be hardly generous. “Forty years ago” Methodism was just beginning; and it was not until nine years afterwards, that, Wesley himself attained the knowledge of being saved, not by good works, but, by faith in Christ.

In Wroot churchyard, a small stone, about two feet long and one foot broad, bears the following inscription:—

“In memory of John Whitelamb, Rector of this Parish thirty-five years. Buried 29th of July, 1769, aged 62 years. Worthy of imitation. This at the cost of Francis Wood, Esq., 1772.”

Rev. Westley Hall

It is far from pleasant to conclude a book in darkness and in pollution; but, in the present case, it cannot be avoided. In most flocks, there is, at least, one objectionable sheep; and few are the brotherhoods without offenders. Among the patriarchs, Reuben, by sin, forfeited the rights of primogeniture and the priesthood; and, among the apostles, Judas Iscariot was an infamous betrayer. History not only supplies examples, but hoists beacons. The former are useful, and the latter not unneeded. The story of the Oxford Methodists cannot be fully told without a reference to the sin and shame of Westley Hall. The subject is a nauseous one; but, it may help to enforce the apostolic admonition, founded upon the same kind of historic facts,—“Wherefore, let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.”

Of the origin of Westley Hall and his early life, we are ignorant.

At Lincoln College, Oxford, he was one of Wesley’s pupils, and was a man of agreeable person, pleasing manners, and good property. The time of his joining the Methodist brotherhood is not known; but Susanna Wesley, writing to her son John, on October 25, 1732, observes:—

“I heartily join with your small Society in all their pious and charitable actions, which are intended for God’s glory; and am glad to hear that Mr. Clayton and Mr. Hall have met with desired success. You do well to wait on the Bishop; though, if he be a good man, I cannot think it in the power of any one to prejudice him against you. Your arguments against horse-races do certainly conclude against masquerades, balls, plays, operas, and all such light and vain diversions, which, whether the gay people of the world will own it or no, do strongly confirm and strengthen the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life; all of which we must renounce, or renounce our God and hope of eternal salvation. I will not say, it is impossible for a person to have any sense of religion, who frequents those vile assemblies; but I never, throughout the course of my long life, knew so much as one serious Christian that did; nor can I see how a lover of God can have any relish for such vain amusements.”295

Hall seems to have been ordained as early as the year 1734. Hence, in another letter, dated March 30, 1734, Wesley’s mother, after referring to the religious practices of the Oxford Methodists and other matters, says,—

“I cannot think Mr. Hall does well in refusing an opportunity of doing so much service to religion, as he certainly might do, if he accepted the living he is about to refuse. Surely, there never was more need of orthodox, sober divines in our Lord’s vineyard, than there is now; and why a man of his extraordinary piety, and love to souls, should decline the service in this critical juncture, I cannot conceive. But this is none of my business.”296

These extracts furnish the reader with a glimpse of Hall at Oxford. Wesley himself testifies that, while at the University, Hall “was holy and unblamable in all manner of conversation.” In what his “extraordinary piety” consisted, we are not informed; but it is a curious fact, that, he, of all men, made ostentatious professions of his having the gift mentioned by the Divine Redeemer (Matt. xix. 10-12).297 This reads oddly in connection with the following extract from one of Wesley’s letters:—

“1784, August 31. Many years ago, Mr. Hall, then strong in faith, believed God called him to marry my youngest sister. He told her so. She fully believed him, and none could convince one or the other to the contrary. I talked with her about it; but she had ‘so often made it matter of prayer, that, she could not be deceived.’ In a week, he dropped her, courted her elder sister, and, as soon as was convenient, married her.”298

What is the history of this strange transaction? Martha Wesley was born in 1707; Kezziah, her sister, in 1710. About the year 1734, Westley Hall met Martha at her uncle’s house in London, proposed to marry her, and, without the knowledge of her parents, or her brothers, was accepted. He then accompanied John and Charles to Epworth, and there saw Kezziah, grew enamoured of her, courted, and obtained her consent, and that of the family in general, to marry him; all of them being ignorant of his pre-engagement with Martha. Returning to London, Hall renewed his addresses to “poor Patty,” who was completely unconscious of what had transpired at Epworth. She wrote to her mother, stating, that for some time past, she had been betrothed to Hall. Kezziah, on learning this, renounced all claim to him. The mother wrote to Martha, assuring her, “that, if she obtained the consent of her uncle, there was no obstacle” to the marriage. The uncle raised no objection; gave Martha a dowry of £500; and the wedding was completed.

Such, in outline, is the account given by Dr. Adam Clarke. It is not without difficulties. Knowing all the facts, Mrs. Wesley’s approbation is unaccountable, except on the ground, that, now and for years afterwards, she held a high opinion of Hall’s piety and character. Charles Wesley, at the time, was excessively indignant, and wrote to Martha a poetical epistle full of terrible invective; and yet, soon afterwards, when the Wesleys were about to embark for Georgia, it was arranged that Hall should attend them, indicating, that, some sort of a reconciliation had taken place between Charles and Hall. The following are selections from Charles’s poem:—

“When he, who long in virtue’s paths had trod,
Deaf to the voice of conscience and of God,
Drops the fair mask, proves traitor to his vow,
And thou the temptress, and the tempted thou,—
Prepare thee then to meet the infernal war,
And dare beyond what woman knows to dare;
Guard each avenue to thy fluttering heart,
...

“Trembling, I hear his horrid vows renewed,
I see him come, by Delia’s groans pursued.
Poor injured Delia! all her groans are vain;
Or he denies, or, listening, mocks her pain.
What, though her eyes with ceaseless tears o’erflow,
Her bosom heave with agonizing woe;
What, though the horror of his falsehood near
Tear up her faith, and plunge her in despair;
Yet can he think (so blind to heaven’s decree,
And the sure fate of cursed apostasy),
Soon as he tells the secret of his breast,
And puts the angel off—and stands confessed,
When love, and grief, and shame, and anguish meet,
To make his crimes and Delia’s wrongs complete,
That, then the injured maid will cease to grieve,
Behold him in a sister’s arms, and live!
Mistaken wretch—by thy unkindness hurled
From ease, from love, from thee, and from the world;
Soon must she land on that immortal shore,
Where falsehood never can torment her more:
There all her sufferings and her sorrows cease,
Nor saints turn devils there to vex her peace!”

Poor jilted Kezziah took the matter more calmly. In a letter to her brother John, dated June 16, 1734, not long before Martha’s marriage, she observed,—

“I intended not to write till I could give you an account of Mr. Hall’s affair; but it is needless, because, I believe, he won’t do anything without your approbation. I am entirely of your opinion, that, we ought to ‘endeavour after perfect resignation’; and I have learned to practise this duty in one particular, which, I think, is of the greatest importance in life, namely, marriage. I am as indifferent as it is lawful for any person to be, whether I ever change my state or not; because, I think a single life is the more excellent way; and there are also several reasons why I rather desire to continue as I am. One is, because, I desire to be entirely disengaged from the world; but the chief is, I am so well apprized of the great duty a wife owes to her husband, that, I think it is almost impossible she should ever discharge it as she ought. But I can scarce say, I have the liberty of choosing; for my relations are continually soliciting me to marry. I shall endeavour to be as resigned and cheerful as possible to whatever God is pleased to ordain for me.”

Comment on the above facts would not be difficult; but the reader must form his own opinion on all the parties concerned in this mournful business. We only add a copy of verses printed in the Gentleman’s Magazine, for September, 1735, p. 551,—verses portraying a nuptial life, the very opposite of that which awaited the unfortunately wedded couple.

“ON THE MARRIAGE OF MR. WESTLEY HALL
TO MISS PATTY WESLEY.

“Hymen, light thy purest flame,
  Every sacred rite prepare;
Never to thy altar came
  A more pious, faithful pair.

“Thee, dispensing mighty pleasure,
  Rashly sensual minds invoke;
Only those partake thy treasure
  Paired in Virtue’s easy yoke.

“Such are Hall and Wesley joining,
  Kindred souls with plighting hands,
Each to each entire resigning,
  One become by nuptial bands.

“Happy union, which destroys
  Half the ills of life below;
But the current of our joys
  Makes with double vigour flow.

“Sympathising friends abate
  The severer strokes of fate;
Happy hours still happier prove
  When they smile on those we love.

“Joys to vulgar minds unknown
  Shall their daily converse crown;
Easy slumbers, pure delights,
  Bless their ever peaceful nights.

“Oh Lucina, sacred power,
  Here employ thy grateful care;
Smiling on the genial hour,
  Give an offspring wise and fair!

“That, when the zealous sire shall charm no more
Th’ attentive audience with his sacred lore,
Those lips in silence closed, whose heavenly skill
Could raptures with persuasive words instil;
A son may in the important work engage,
And with his precepts mend the future age:
That, when the accomplished mother, snatched by fate,
No more shall grace the matrimonial state;
No more exhibit, in her virtuous life,
The bright exemplar of a perfect wife;
A daughter, blest with each maternal grace,
May shine the pattern of the female race!”

As already related (see pp. 65-67), it was fully arranged, that, a month after the appearance of this epithalamium, Westley Hall and his newly-wedded wife should accompany the Wesleys to Georgia; and, that, at the last moment, Hall declined to go, on the ground, that, his uncle and his mother had engaged to obtain for him an English benefice. The man, in more respects than one, was double-minded. In unstableness, as well as incontinency, he was Reuben redivivus.

The church appointment, secured for Hall, seems to have been the office of curate, at Wootton-Rivers, a small village of about four hundred inhabitants, in the county of Wilts. Here he took, not only his wife, but, strangely enough, Kezziah Wesley, with whose affections he had so basely trifled. The two sisters were evidently reconciled; but their brother Samuel, a keen judge of character, regarded Hall with feelings of suspicion and dislike. Hence the following extract from one of Samuel’s letters, dated, “Blundell’s School, Tiverton, Devon, September 29, 1736,” and addressed to his brother Charles in Georgia:—

“Brother Hall’s is a black story. There was no great likelihood of his being a favourite with me: his tongue is too smooth for my roughness, and rather inclines me to suspect than believe. Indeed, I little suspected the horrid truth; but, finding him on the reserve, I thought, he was something like Rivington, and feared me as a jester; which is a sure sign either of guilt on the one hand, or pride on the other. It is certainly true of that marriage; it will not, and it cannot come to good. He is now at a curacy in Wiltshire, near Marlborough. I have no correspondence with Kez.: I did design it after reading yours; but the hearing, that, she is gone to live with Patty and her husband made me drop my design.”

It was certainly a strange,—an almost unaccountable thing, for Kezziah Wesley to become domiciled with such a man. It is true, her venerable father had died just about the time of the ill-fated marriage, leaving both her mother and herself without a home; but the mother had found a welcome in the house of her son Samuel; who was also wishful to have Kezziah beneath his roof, if his brother John would continue to allow her £50 a year.299 Why, then, did she go to Westley Hall’s? Samuel Wesley strongly disapproved of this; and so also did his brother Charles. Hence the following, from Charles’s Journal, written only three days after his return from Georgia:—

“1736, December 6. I spent an hour at my uncle’s, equally welcome and unexpected. They informed me, my brother Hall was gone to a curacy, very melancholy, and impatient at the mention of Georgia; and that my sister Kezzy was gone to live with him.

“Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agnæ.”

Hall was a hawk among the doves of the Wesley family. There was dislike, and there was also a reasonable suspicion. A sort of truce existed; but it was hollow and uncertain. Samuel Wesley regarded Hall as a smooth-tongued hypocrite, and evidently thought his sister Kezziah had made a great mistake in making the house of Hall her domicile. Charles Wesley was equally dissatisfied, as is evident from his Latin quotation; and, yet, ten weeks after writing thus, he went to Hall’s himself, as a friendly visitor, and spent a week with the reverend coquet, and with his “sisters, Patt and Kez.”300 Indeed, a few months afterwards, Mrs. Wesley, the widow, who had taken up her residence at the house of her son Samuel, at Tiverton, removed to Hall’s at Wootton-Rivers, where, on August 5, 1737, she wrote:—

“Mr. Hall and his wife are very good to me. He behaves like a gentleman and a Christian; and my daughter with as much duty and tenderness as can be expressed.”301

Shortly after this, Westley Hall seems to have removed to Salisbury. Hence the following entry in Charles Wesley’s Journal:—

“1737, December 29. I supped in Salisbury, at my brother Hall’s.”

In 1739, he came to London. In a letter, to her son Samuel, dated “March 8, 1739,” Mrs. Wesley writes:—

“I have been informed, that, Mr. Hall intends to remove his family to London, hath taken a house, and I must (if it please God I live) go with them.”302

Here he associated with Wesley and his brother, and, like them, was soon involved in the Moravian squabbles. A “famous French Prophetess,” of the name of Lavington, sprang up among them, who, at one of their meetings, on June 7, 1739, asked, “Can a man attain perfection here?” Charles Wesley answered, “No.” The Prophetess began groaning. Charles turned and said, “If you have anything to speak, speak it.” She lifted up her voice, like the lady on the tripod, and cried out vehemently, “Look for perfection; I say, absolute perfection!” Charles writes:—

“I was minded to rebuke her; but God gave me uncommon recollection, and command of spirit, so that, I sat quiet, and replied not. I offered, at last, to sing, which she allowed, but did not join. Bray pressed me to stay, and hear her pray. They knelt; I stood. She prayed most pompously. I durst not say, Amen. She concluded with a horrible, hellish laugh; and showed violent displeasure against our baptized Quaker, saying, ‘God had showed her, He would destroy all outward things.’”

On the three following days, Charles Wesley took the depositions of certain parties, “concerning her lewd life and conversation;” read the account to the Society; and warned his friends against her. On June 12th, at another of their meetings, she again appeared. Charles remarks:—

“She flew upon us like a tigress; tried to outface me; and insisted, that, she was immediately inspired. I prayed. She cried, ‘The devil was in me. I was a fool, a blockhead, a blind leader of the blind.’ She roared outrageously; said, it was the lion in her. (True; but not the Lion of Judah.) She would come to the Society in spite of me: if not, they would all go down. I asked, ‘Who is on God’s side? Who for the old Prophets rather than the new? Let them follow me.’ They followed me into the preaching room. I prayed, and expounded the lesson with extraordinary power.”

The next day, the two Wesleys, with their brother-in-law, Westley Hall, met the Society, and discussed “the Prophetess’s affair.” Charles Wesley says,—

“Bray and Bowers were much humbled. All agreed to disown the prophetess. Brother Hall proposed expelling Shaw and Wolf. We consented, nem. con., that, their names should be erased out of the Society-book, because they disowned themselves members of the Church of England.”

Thus we find Westley Hall employed in silencing the profanities of a half-crazed woman, and expelling men from a religious society, because they would not acknowledge themselves to be members of the Established Church.

It is not known in what church Hall officiated during his residence in London; but there is one circumstance connected with his ministry while here, too interesting to be omitted. At this period, the great themes of the preaching and of the conversation of Wesley and his brother were their newly found doctrines of Justification by Faith only, the Witness of the Spirit, and the New Birth. For many a long year, Susannah Wesley had been one of the most Christian women then living; but her sons’ doctrine of the Witness of the Spirit was one of which she had scarcely ever heard. Now, however, at the age of seventy, and only three years before her death, she obtained the blessing for herself, and obtained it under the ministry of Westley Hall. Wesley writes:—

“1739, September 3. I talked largely with my mother, who told me, that, till a short time since, she had scarce heard such a thing mentioned as the having God’s Spirit bearing witness with our spirit: much less did she imagine, that, this was the common privilege of all true believers. ‘Therefore,’ said she, ‘I never durst ask it for myself. But two or three weeks ago, while my son Hall was pronouncing those words, in delivering the cup to me,—The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee,—the words struck my heart, and I knew, God, for Christ’s sake, had forgiven me all my sins.’”

Westley Hall, though a clergyman of the Established Church, continued to attend the Moravian meetings; and, to his credit, it ought to be recorded, that, for a time at least, he withstood the Moravian heresies. Charles Wesley writes:—

“1740, May 14. I found Mr. Hall at Fetter Lane, asking them, whether they would try their spirits by the Word, or the Word by their spirits. I enforced the question, which they strove to evade. Rabbi Hutton303 forbade their answering me. I warned the few remaining brethren to beware of the leaven of stillness; showed them the delusion of those who had cast off the ordinances, and confined the faith to themselves only; I foretold the dreadful consequences of their enthusiasm; set the case of Gregor before their eyes; besought, entreated, conjured them not to renounce the means, or deny the Lord that bought them; read a letter from one who had been strongly tempted to leave off the Sacrament, but, in receiving, was powerfully convinced that her dissuader was the devil. Hodges, Hall, and Howel Harris confirmed my words. Others were hereby emboldened to bear their testimony to the divine ordinances. By the strength of the Lord, we have stood between the living and the dead; and the plague, we trust, is stayed.”

Fickleness was one of Westley Hall’s characteristic faults. Within a twelvemonth after this resistance of the Moravian stillness, he himself adopted it, and argued against the two Wesleys, that, “silent prayer, and quiet waiting for God, was the only possible way to attain living, saving faith.”304

Still, Hall and the Wesley brothers continued to be on friendly terms; so much so, that, when Whitefield and Wesley quarrelled respecting the doctrine of “Free Grace,” and Whitefield declared his intention to attack Wesley and his brother wherever he went, Westley Hall assumed the office of peace-maker, waited upon Whitefield, and reminded him of a promise, he had made, “that, whatever his private opinion was, he would never publicly preach against” them.305 This, however, was not of long duration. At the close of 1739, Wesley took possession of “The Foundry,” which he fitted up as a place for preaching and the meetings of his London Society. Here, he, also, opened a day-school for the children of the poor; and, over the band-room, there were apartments, occupied by his mother and himself. Here, the Stewards and Leaders met to receive and distribute money, and to manage the general affairs of the London Methodists. Westley Hall seems to have held some sort of office at the Foundry; and he began, during Wesley’s absence in the north, to be treacherous to Wesley himself, as, seven years before, he had been to Wesley’s sister Kezziah. Wesley writes:—

“1742, Sunday, October 31. Several of the leaders desired to have an hour’s conversation with me. I found, they were greatly perplexed about ‘want of management, ill-husbandry, encouraging idleness, improper distribution of money,’ ‘being imposed upon by fair pretences,’ and ‘men who talked well, but had no grace in their hearts.’ I asked, who those men were; but that they could not tell. Who encouraged idleness; when and how; what money had been improperly distributed; by whom, and to whom; in what instances I had been imposed upon (as I presumed they meant me); and what were the particulars of that ill-husbandry and mismanagement of which they complained. They stared at one another as men in amaze. I began to be amazed too, not being able to imagine what was the matter, till one dropped a word, by which all came out. They had been talking with Mr. Hall, who had started so many objections against all I said or did, that, they were in the utmost consternation, till the fire thus broke out, which then at once vanished away.”

Wesley’s mother had died in the Foundry three months previous to this disclosure; and Wesley had invited Hall and his wife (who had been bereaved of several children) to take up their residence in his own humble dwelling. The following letter, addressed to Mrs. Hall, refers to this and other matters.

“Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Nov. 17, 1742.

“Dear Sister,—I believe the death of your children is a great instance of the goodness of God towards you. You have often mentioned to me how much of your time they took up. Now that time is restored to you, and you have nothing to do but to serve the Lord without carefulness and without distraction, till you are sanctified in body, soul, and spirit.

“As soon as I saw Mr. Hall, I invited him to stay at the Foundry; but he desired I would have him excused. There is a strange inconsistency in his tempers and sentiments with regard to me. The still brethren306 have gradually infused into him as much as they could of their own contempt of me and my brother, and dislike of our whole method of proceeding, which is as different from theirs as light from darkness. Nay, they have blunderingly taught him to find fault even with my economy and want of management both of my family and society. Whereas, I know this is the peculiar talent which God has given me, wherein (by His grace) I am not behind the very chiefest of them. Notwithstanding this, there remains in him something of his old regard for me, which he had at Oxford; and, by-and-by, it will prevail. He will find out these wretched men, and the clouds will flee away.

“My belief is, that, the present design of God, is to visit the poor desolate Church of England; and, that, therefore, neither deluded Mr. Gambold, nor any who leave it, will prosper. O pray for the peace of Jerusalem. ‘They shall prosper that love thee.’

“Mr. Hall has paid me for the books. I don’t want any money of you; your love is sufficient. But write, as often and as largely as you can, to your affectionate friend and brother,

“John Wesley.”307

Not long after this, “poor Moravianized Mr. Hall,” as Charles Wesley calls him, seems to have removed to Salisbury, and there to have occupied a chapel, and set up a Society of his own, which his wife refused to join. Charles Wesley writes:—

“1743, August 11. From ten to two, I got with my sister Hall in Salisbury. She stands alone. Every soul of her husband’s Society has forsaken the ordinances of God; for which reason she refuses to belong to it.”

Westley Hall was now an avowed Dissenter. His wife objected to leave the Church of her venerable father. Her husband’s disciples jeered her; and, before long, her husband himself committed against her the most cruel wrongs. Another extract from Charles Wesley’s Journal will be useful. On his way from London to Bristol, he wrote:—

“1745, June 19. Three miles on this side Salisbury, a still sister came out to meet, and try her skill upon, me. But, alas! it was labour lost! I knew the happy sinner, and all her paces. I found my sister as a rock in the midst of waves. Mr. Hall’s Society had all left the Church, and mocked and persecuted her for not leaving it. Many pressed me to preach; but I answered them, ‘My heart was not free to it.’ At four, I set out with my sister; and reached Bristol in the afternoon of the next day.”

Six months after this, Hall, not satisfied with his dissenting success at Salisbury, used his utmost endeavours to make converts of the two Wesley brothers. To John Wesley he wrote a long letter, earnestly pressing him and his brother “to renounce the Church of England.” Hall’s letter is lost; but Wesley’s answer exists, and is too important to be omitted. It exhibits the ground taken by Hall, and shows the position and difficulties of some, at least, of the Oxford Methodists.

“December 30, 1745.

“Dear Brother,—Now you act the part of a friend. It has long been our desire, that, you would speak freely. And we will do the same. What we know not yet, may God reveal to us!

“You think, First, that, we undertake to defend some things, which are not defensible by the Word of God. You instance three: on each of which we will explain ourselves as clearly as we can.

“1. ‘That, the validity of our ministry depends on a succession supposed to be from the Apostles, and a commission derived from the Pope of Rome, and his successors or dependents.’

“We believe, it would not be right for us to administer, either Baptism or the Lord’s Supper, unless we had a commission so to do from those Bishops, whom we apprehend to be in a succession from the Apostles. And, yet, we allow, these Bishops are the successors of those, who are dependent on the Bishop of Rome. But, we would be glad to know, on what reasons you believe this to be inconsistent with the Word of God.

“2. ‘That, there is an outward Priesthood, and consequently an outward Sacrifice, ordained and offered by the Bishop of Rome, and his successors or dependents, in the Church of England, as vicars and vicegerents of Christ.’

“We believe there is and always was, in every Christian Church (whether dependent on the Bishop of Rome or not) an outward Priesthood ordained by Jesus Christ, and an outward Sacrifice offered therein, by men authorized to act, as Ambassadors of Christ, and Stewards of the mysteries of God. On what grounds do you believe, that, Christ has abolished that Priesthood or Sacrifice?

“3. ‘That, this Papal Hierarchy and Prelacy, which still continues in the Church of England, is of Apostolical Institution, and authorized thereby; though not by the written Word.’

“We believe, that, the threefold order of ministers, (which you seem to mean by Papal Hierarchy and Prelacy,) is not only authorized by its Apostolical Institution, but also by the written Word. Yet, we are willing to hear and weigh whatever reasons induce you to believe to the contrary.

“You think, Secondly, ‘That, we ourselves give up some things as indefensible, which are defended by the same law and authority, that establish the things above mentioned: such as are many of the Laws, Customs, and Practices of the Ecclesiastical Courts.’

“We allow, 1. That, those Laws, Customs, and Practices are really indefensible; 2. That, there are Acts of Parliament, in defence of them; and also of the threefold order. But, will you show us, how it follows, either, 1. that, those things and these stand or fall together? Or, 2. that, we cannot sincerely plead for the one, though we give up the other? Do you not here quite overlook one circumstance, which might be a key to our whole behaviour? Namely, that, we no more look upon those filthy abuses, which adhere to our Church, as parts of the building; than we look upon any filth which may adhere to the walls of Westminster Abbey, as a part of that structure.

“You think, Thirdly, ‘That, there are other things which we defend and practise, in open contradiction to the Orders of the Church of England. And this you judge to be a just exception against the sincerity of our professions to adhere to it.’

“Compare what we profess with what we practise, and you will possibly be of another judgment. We profess, 1. That, we will obey all the laws of that Church, (such we allow the Rubrics to be, but not the Customs of the Ecclesiastical Courts,) so far as we can with a safe conscience. 2. That, we will obey, with the same restriction, the Bishops, as executors of those laws. But their bare will, distinct from those laws, we do not profess to obey at all. Now point out, What is there in our practice, which is an open contradiction to these professions?

“Is Field-Preaching? Not at all. It is contrary to no law, which we profess to obey.

“The allowing Lay-Preachers? We are not clear, that, this is contrary to any such law. But, if it is, this is one of the exempt cases; one wherein we cannot obey with a safe conscience. Therefore, (be it right or wrong on other accounts,) it is however no just exception against our sincerity.

“The Rules and Directions given to our Societies? which, you say, is a discipline utterly forbidden by the Bishops. When and where did any Bishop forbid this? And if any did, by what law? We know not either the man who ever did forbid, or the law by which he could forbid it.

“The allowing persons (for we require none) to communicate at the chapel, in contradiction, (you think,) to all those Rubrics, which require all to attend always, on their own parish church and pastor, and to receive only at his table?

“Which Rubrics are those? We cannot find them. And, till these are produced, all that is so frequently said of parochial unity, etc., is merely gratis dictum. Consequently, neither is this any just exception against the sincerity of any of our professions.

“John Wesley.”308

This long, but sententiously expressed letter is of considerable importance. It contains the arguments employed by Hall to induce Wesley and his brother to renounce their connection with the Church of England; and it shows, that, notwithstanding the novel steps that Wesley had taken during the last half a dozen years, he still, in some respects, belonged to the High-Church clergy, and believed in the popish figment of apostolical succession, and could talk of the “outward Sacrifice” offered in the Church.

Hall failed to convert Wesley to his Dissenting principles; and equally failed to persuade him to abandon out-door preaching, the employment of lay-evangelists, and the administration of the sacraments in unconsecrated chapels. The two old friends were not yet finally separated; but they had no confidence in each other. A few months after the date of the above letter, Wesley wrote as follows:—

“1746. July 20. I set out for Salisbury, where, to my utter amazement, Mr. Hall desired me to preach. Was his motive only, to grace his own cause? Or rather, was this the last gasp of expiring love?”

The last gasp of expiring love it proved. In a little more than a year afterwards, Hall infamously deserted his wife and family. From a letter, published in the Gentleman’s Magazine, and dated “Salisbury, October 30, 1747,” we learn, that, “by an uncommon appearance of sanctity, joined with indefatigable labour in field and house preaching,” he had drawn “multitudes of the meaner sort, both of Dissenters and the Established Church, to attend him. And, though he had continually advanced the grossest absurdities, both in his preaching and writings,309 yet, he so bewitched his followers, that, his words had greater weight with them than the words of Christ and His Apostles.” The writer continues,—

“Last Wednesday, he took formal leave of his corrupted flock, and had the impudence to justify his infamous conduct from the case of Elkanah, (1 Sam. i. 1, 2), which he largely expounded. On Friday morning, he set out for London, having first stripped his wife, (a virtuous woman by whom he has had several children,) of all her childbed linen, and whatever he could readily convert into money, leaving her in the deepest distress. The fire of jealousy has broken out in many families, where wives or daughters were his followers.”

At the time of this disgraceful occurrence, Charles Wesley was in Ireland; but John, with as little delay as possible, hastened to the desolate home of his forsaken sister, where he wrote:—

“From the concurrent account of many witnesses, who spoke no more than they personally knew, I now learned as much as is hitherto brought to light concerning the fall of poor Mr. Hall. Twelve years ago, he was, without all question, filled with faith and the love of God. He was a pattern of humility, meekness, seriousness, and, above all, of self-denial; so that, in all England, I knew not his fellow. It were easy to point out the several steps, whereby he fell from his steadfastness; even till he fell into a course of adultery, yea, and avowed it in the face of the sun!”

Wesley wrote to the miserable delinquent the following long, faithful, and Christian letter, in which “the several steps, whereby he fell from his steadfastness” are enumerated.

“London, December 22, 1747.

“Dear Brother,—1. When you were at Oxford with me, fourteen or fifteen years ago, you were holy and unblamable in all manner of conversation. I greatly rejoiced in the grace of God, which was given unto you, which was often a blessing to my own soul. Yet, even then, you had frequently starts of thought, which were not of God, though they at first appeared so to be. But you were humble and teachable: you were easily convinced, and those imaginations vanished away.

“2. More than twelve years ago, you told me, God had revealed it to you, that you should marry my youngest sister. I was much surprised, being well assured that you were able to receive our Lord’s saying, (so you had continually testified,) and to be an ‘eunuch for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.’ But, you vehemently affirmed, the thing was of God; you were certain it was His will. God had made it plain to you, that, you must marry, and, that, she was the very person. You asked, and gained her consent, and fixed the circumstances relating thereto.

“3. Hence, I date your fall. Here were several faults in one. You leaned altogether to your own understanding, not consulting either me, who was then the guide of your soul, or the parents of your intended wife, till you had settled the whole affair. And while you followed the voice of nature, you said it was the voice of God.

“4. In a few days, you had a counter revelation, that, you were not to marry her, but her sister. This last error was far worse than the first. But, you were now quite above conviction. So, in spite of her poor, astonished parent, of her brothers, of all your vows and promises, you shortly after jilted the younger, and married the elder sister. The other, who had honoured you as an angel from heaven, and still loved you much too well, (for you had stolen her heart from the God of her youth,) refused to be comforted. She fell into a lingering illness, which terminated in her death. And doth not her blood still cry unto God from the earth? Surely it is upon your head.

“5. Till this time, you were a pattern of lowliness, meekness, seriousness, and continual advertence to the presence of God; and, above all, of self-denial of every kind, and of suffering all things with joyfulness. But there was now a worm at the root of the gourd. Yet, it did not presently wither away; but, for two years or more, after your marriage, you behaved nearly the same as before.

“Then anger and surliness began to appear, particularly toward your wife. But it was not long before you were sensible of this, and you seemed to have conquered it.

“6. You went up to London ten years ago. After this, you began to speak on any head; not with your usual diffidence and self-abasement, but with a kind of confidence in your own judgment, and an air of self-sufficiency. A natural consequence was, the treating with more sharpness and contempt those who opposed either your judgment or practice.

“7. You came to live at London. You then, for a season, appeared to gain ground again. You acted in concert with my brother and me; heard our advice, and sometimes followed it. But, this continued only till you contracted a fresh acquaintance with some of the Brethren of Fetter Lane. Henceforward, you were quite shut up to us; we had no manner of influence over you. You were more and more prejudiced against us, and would receive nothing which we said.

“8. About six years ago, you removed to Salisbury, and began a society there. For a year or two, you went with them to church and sacrament, and simply preached faith working by love. God was with you, and they increased both in number, and in the knowledge and love of God.

“About four years since, you broke off all friendship with us. You would not so much as make use of our hymns, either in public or private; but laid them quite aside, and took the German Hymn-book in their stead.

“You would not willingly suffer any of your people to read anything which we wrote. You angrily caught one of my sermons out of your servant’s hand, saying, you would have no such books read in your house. In much the same manner, you spoke to Mrs. Whitemarsh, when you found her reading one of the “Appeals.” So that, as far as in you lay, you fixed a great gulf between us and you, which remains to this day, notwithstanding a few steps lately made towards a re-union.

“About the same time, you left off going to church, as well as to the sacrament. Your followers very soon trod in your steps; and, not content with neglecting the ordinances of God, they began, after your example, to despise them, and all that continued to use them, speaking with equal contempt of the public service, of private prayer, of baptism, and of the Lord’s Supper.

“From this time, also, you began to espouse and teach many uncommon opinions: as, that, there is no resurrection of the body; that, there is no general judgment to come; and, that, there is no hell, no worm that never dieth, no fire that never shall be quenched.

“9. Your seriousness and advertence to the presence of God, now, declined daily. You could talk on anything or nothing, just as others did. You could break a jest, or laugh at it heartily; and, as for fasting, abstinence, and self-denial, you, with the Moravians, trampled it under foot.”

In an interjected note, Wesley says,—

In the following paragraphs, I recited to him the things he had done with regard to more than one, or two, or three women, concluding thus:—

“And now you know not that you have done anything amiss! You can eat and drink and be merry! You are every day engaged with variety of company, and frequent the coffee houses! Alas, my brother, what is this? How are you above measure hardened by the deceitfulness of sin? Do you remember the story of Santon Barsisa? I pray God, your last end may not be like his! Oh, how you have grieved the Spirit of God! Return to Him with weeping, fasting, and mourning. You are in the very belly of hell; only the pit hath not shut its mouth upon you. Arise, thou sleeper, and call upon thy God! Perhaps, He may yet be found. Because He still bears with me, I cannot despair for you. But you have not a moment to lose. May God, this instant, strike you to the heart, that you may feel His wrath abiding on you, and have no rest in your bones, by reason of your sin, till all your iniquities are done away.”

“John Wesley.”

What success attended Wesley’s honest letter? Hall had left his wife at the end of October, 1747. Three months afterwards, he had returned to Salisbury; and Wesley, on his way to Bristol, resolved to call on him. He writes:—

“1748. January 26.

“Mr. Hall, having heard I was coming, had given strict orders, that no one should let me in. The inner door he had locked himself, and, I suppose, taken away the key. Yet, when I knocked at the outer gate, which was locked also, William Sims opened the wicket. I walked straight in. A girl stood in the gateway, but turned as soon as she saw me. I followed close at her heels, and went in after her at a back door. I asked the maid, ‘Where is Mr. Hall?’ She said, ‘In the parlour,’ and went in to him. I followed her, and found him sitting with my sister, but he presently rose and went up-stairs. He then sent William Sims down, and bid him, ‘Tell my brother he has no business in my house.’ After a few minutes, I went to a house in the town, and my sister came to me. In about an hour, she returned home; but he sent word to the gate, she might go to the place whence she came. I met a little company, gathered up out of the wreck, both in the evening, and at five in the morning, and exhorted them to go on in the Bible way, and not to be wise above that is written.”

Having thus failed in his attempt to reason with Westley Hall, and having tried to be of use to a mere handful of the best of the faithless man’s followers, Wesley, two days afterwards, went on his way to Bristol.

Things grew worse and worse. Hall’s first female victim was a young woman, employed in his house as a seamstress. Other infidelities followed; until, at length, his much-enduring wife was driven from him. The man became a professed polygamist. Life at home became intolerable to “poor Patty;” and, even when she fled from the husband, who had become a monster and a brute, again and again she and her brothers were harassed by his following her. The following are extracts from her brother Charles’s Journal:—

“1750. August 13.—I met my sister Hall in the churchyard,” (Bristol) “and carried her to the room. I had begun preaching, when Mr. Hall walked up the room, and through the desk, and carried her off with him. I was somewhat disturbed; yet went on.

“August 15.—He came up again, calling me by my name. I fled, and he pursued; but could not find me in my lurking place.

“1751. June 4.—Instead of proceeding in Ezekiel, I expounded” (at Bristol) “Hebrew x. 34: ‘Now the just shall live by faith; but, if he draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him.’ I saw the reason with Mr. Hall. He came up toward the desk. Mr. Hamilton stopped him. I gave out a hymn. He sang louder than us all. I spoke sharply of his apostasy, and prayed earnestly for him; desired their prayers for me, lest, after preaching to others, I myself, also, should be a castaway. He walked away, turned back, threatened. The people were all in tears, and agony of prayer.”

There is something horrible in such a scene as this. Westley Hall was “now a settled Deist;”310 and, yet, here we find him, with stentorian lustiness, and in mockery, singing, in the midst of a disturbed congregation, one of Charles Wesley’s Christian hymns. The man seemed to be abandoned by his God, and left to his own corrupted passions. He is said to have thrown off all restraint, and all regard to decency. He publicly and privately recommended polygamy, as conformable to nature, preached in its defence, and practised as he preached. For years, he lived the life of an adventurer, and a profligate; acting sometimes as a physician, sometimes as priest, or figured away with his sword, cane, and scarlet cloak; assuming any character, according to his humour, or the convenience of the day.311

His wife had borne him ten children, nine of whom had been interred at Salisbury. One of them,—Wesley Hall,—still survived, and was being educated at the expense of his uncles, John and Charles. At the age of fourteen, the worse than fatherless boy was seized with small-pox, and died. Dr. Adam Clarke says, he had seen “a folio printed sheet, evidently the publication of Mr. Hall;” entitled, “The Art of Happiness; or, the Right use of Reason: an Epistle to Wesley Hall, Junior.” “The whole,” writes the Doctor, “is a miserable Deistical address, strongly advising his son to follow the dictates of his own nature, as the best way of fulfilling the purposes of his Creator!”

The following are the opening lines:—

“My son, my son, if e’er a parent’s voice
Has power to warn, let this direct thy choice;
Take reason’s path, and mad opinions leave,—
Reason is truth that never can deceive.”

Declaiming against superstition and bigotry, and, perhaps, shooting a shaft against the boy’s uncles,—the two Wesleys,—the profligate poet writes:—

“Inspired with frantic, false, fanatic zeal,
See, with what rage, they threat damnation,—hell,
To all who fair expose the wretched lies,
The frauds, the follies, falsehood, forgeries,
Of Romish fathers, councils, canons, schools,
Impostors’ orders, monks’ and madmen’s rules.”

Love, the universal passion, is eulogized as follows:—

“By thee inspired, we learn each tuneful art,
To raise the passions, or improve the heart;
The mystic union of the sounding strings,
The wondrous commerce of the secret springs,
Whence social joy, and sympathetic pain,
And friendship’s force, and love’s eternal reign.
...
With all the mighty charms by heaven designed,
To raise the bliss of every godlike mind,
In love concentring, from that image bright,
The fairest mirror of th’ Eternal light.”

“He concludes,” says Dr. Clarke, “his ungodly advices to his godly son, in these words:—

“Instructed thus, may’st thou a temple raise,
More glorious far than that of ancient days;
The work of wisdom, and of virtue fair,
With strength and beauty built beyond compare;
By reason’s perfect rule, and nature’s scale,
Which God’s whole order may to man reveal;
Where all things tend, and whence they all began,
Of His machinery the wondrous plan.”

The date of the death of the last of Hall’s legitimate offspring has not been recorded; but his memory was embalmed, and his father’s gibbeted, by his uncle, Charles Wesley, in a poetical pamphlet, entitled “Funeral Hymns,” published in 1759, pp. 70. The tenth of these hymns is devoted entirely to the son, and is exquisitely beautiful; the eleventh is a withering invective against the apostate father. The following is a copy:—

“Rest, happy saint, with God secure,
  Lodged in the bosom of the Lamb;
Thy joy is full, thy state is sure,
  Through all eternity the same;
The heavenly doors have shut thee in,
The mighty gulf is fixed between.

“Thy God forbade the son to bear
  The father’s wickedness below:
And O! thou canst not suffer there
  His foul reproach, his guilty woe,
His fearful doom thou canst not feel,
Or fall, like him, from heaven to hell.

“That tender sense of infant grace,
  (Extinct in him,) which dwelt in thee,
Nor sin, nor Satan can efface:
  From pain and grief for ever free,
Thou canst not now his fall deplore,
Or pray for one that prays no more.

“Yet may thy last expiring prayer,
  For a lost parent’s soul, prevail,
And move the God of love to spare,
  To arrest him, at the mouth of hell:
O God of love, Thine ear incline,
And save a soul that once was Thine!

“Thou didst his heaven-born spirit draw,
  Thou didst his child-like heart inspire,
And fill with love’s profoundest awe;
  Though now inflamed with hellish fire,
He dares Thy favourite Son blaspheme,
And hates the God that died for him.

“Commissioned by the dying God,
  Blessed with a powerful ministry,
The world he pointed to Thy blood,
  And turned whole multitudes to Thee;
Others he saved, himself a prey
To hell, an hopeless castaway.

“Murderer of souls, Thou knowest, he lives.
  (Poor souls for whom Thyself hast died,)
His dreadful punishment receives,
  And bears the mark of sullen pride;
And furious lusts his bosom tear,
And the dire worm of sad despair.

“Condemned, like haggard Cain, to rove,
  By Satan and himself pursued,
Apostate from redeeming love,
  Abandoned to the curse of God;
Thou hear’st the vagabond complain,
Loud howling, while he bites his chain.

“But O, Thou righteous God, how long
  Shall Thy vindictive anger last?
Canst Thou not yet forgive the wrong,
  Bid all his penal woes be past?
All power, all mercy as Thou art,
O break his adamantine heart!

“Before the yawning cavern close
  Its mouth on its devoted prey,
Thou, who hast died to save Thy foes,
  Thy death’s omnipotence display;
And snatch from that eternal fire,
And let him in Thy arms expire.”

It would be an odious task to relate all the details of Westley Hall’s sad apostasy. Suffice to say, that he, at length, went off to the West Indies with one of his concubines, lived there with her till she died, and then returned to England, where, professing penitential sorrow, he was cordially received by his incomparable wife, who showed him every Christian attention till his death, which took place at Bristol, on January 3, 1776; some of his last words being, “I have injured an angel! an angel that never reproached me!” Wesley writes:—

“1776, January 2—Tuesday. I set out early” from London, “and came just time enough not to see, but to bury poor Mr. Hall, my brother-in-law, who died on Wednesday morning, I trust, in peace; for God had given him deep repentance. Such another monument of Divine mercy, considering how low he had fallen, and from what height of holiness, I have not seen, no, not in seventy years! I had designed to visit him in the morning; but he did not stay for my coming. It is enough, if, after all his wanderings, we meet again in Abraham’s bosom.”

“Requiescat in pace!” And yet, justice demands that a word more be added. The fact cannot be denied, that, in many instances, the faults of husbands may be traced to the tempers, frailties, and follies of their wives. A bad wife often makes a good husband bad. Was this the fact in the case of Westley Hall? Did the man who, at Oxford, was so pre-eminently holy, become a licentious infidel through the misbehaviour of his wife? This is not a memoir of “Patty” Hall; but to be entirely silent concerning her might create suspicion, that, she was not unblamable in her connubial life. Hence, even at the expense of returning to the dunghill of Westley Hall’s disgusting wickedness, a few more facts must be stated.

Assuming Martha Wesley to have been aware, that, Westley Hall had proposed marriage to her sister Kezziah, and had jilted her, it was a huge, seriously censurable imprudence for her to become his wife; but that being said, there is not another fact to be told against her. What was her behaviour to one of the worst of husbands?

The seduction of the seamstress has been already mentioned. Mrs. Hall knew nothing of her husband’s criminality till the poor girl actually fell in labour. Hall had gone from home; his wife instantly ordered her other servants to call in a doctor. The servants refused. She remonstrated with them on their inhumanity. They completed her surprise by telling her the seamstress was in labour through her criminal connection with their master. The poor wife was terribly wounded; but the life of her husband’s paramour was in danger. The servants refused to stir, and she herself had to bring in a midwife. Her purse contained six pounds. Five of these she gave to a neighbour to look after the adulterous young mother; with the other pound, she went off to seek her worthless husband, who had designedly gone to London; mildly told him what had happened, and actually persuaded him to return to Salisbury as soon as the young woman and her child could be removed to another dwelling.

Another instance must be given. One day, Hall had the shameful inhumanity to bring home one of his illegitimate infants, and to order his wife to take charge of it. Will it be believed, that “Patty” actually brought out her cradle, placed the bastard babe in it, and continued to perform for it all that its helplessness required!

Was the woman demented? or a good-tempered silly fool, without any self-respect, and without the least idea of what was due unto herself? Not so; but just the opposite. As a proof of this, the following may be given:—

While nursing the illegitimate child just mentioned, her own charming boy, Wesley Hall, displeased his father, who had as little government of his temper as of his passions. In a rage, the father thrust his son into a dark closet, and locked him up. The poor boy was terrified to distraction. His mother, with her usual calmness, desired her husband to release the child. He refused. She entreated; but he was resolute. “Sir,” said she, at length thoroughly aroused; “Sir, thank the grace of God, that, while my child is thus cruelly treated, suffering to distraction a punishment he has not merited, I had not turned your babe out of the cradle; but now I demand, that you will immediately unlock the closet and release the child, or, if you refuse, I myself will do it.” The miserable poltroon succumbed, and the little prisoner regained his liberty. There was more in this than female firmness. Caitiff as he was, Hall had exercised the authority of a father, and his wife did her utmost not to set aside that authority; wishing, with true philosophy, that the lips which had pronounced the sentence might pronounce also its repeal. The woman, taking and maintaining this position, was the very opposite of a senseless, insipid household drudge, without either mind or manners, a very slave to some selfish brute who unfortunately rules over her.

If “Patty” Wesley,—we are reluctant to call her “Patty” Hall,—erred at all, it was on the side of fidelity to her worthless husband, and of kindness to his wretched mistresses. “How could you give money to your husband’s concubine?” asked her brother Charles. “I knew,” she answered, “that I could obtain what I wanted from many; but she, poor hapless creature, could not. Pity is due to the wicked, the good claim esteem. Besides, I did not act as a woman, but as a Christian.”

Notwithstanding all her bad treatment, this incomparable wife was never heard to speak of her husband but with kindness. Two extracts from her letters will show both her feelings and good sense, under circumstances the most trying to a female mind:—

“Being convinced, that, I cannot possibly oblige you any longer, by anything I can say or do, I have determined to rid you of so useless a burden, as soon as it shall please God to give me an opportunity. If you have so much humanity left for a wife, who has lived so many years with you, as to allow anything toward a maintenance, I will thank you.”

“I conjure you to tell what fatal delusion could make me offend a person whom, of all creatures upon earth, I desired most to please. I shall be exceedingly obliged to you, if you will be so good as to satisfy me in this particular. But, be that as it may, whether you think fit to grant or deny my request, one thing I must inform you of, which is, that, I never can, so long as I am in my senses, wilfully bring any evil upon you. No, death itself does not appear so shocking to me, as endeavouring to lay you under any other obligation than those of conscience and honour. For which reason, I design to put myself again absolutely in your power. If you make a kind use of that power, I shall thank God and you. If not, the time is very short that I can stay on this side the grave; and in the same sentiments that I have lived, I trust, it will be given me to die.”

It is hardly necessary to give further details of this memorable woman. Enough has been said, to show, that, Westley Hall’s infamous behaviour was not owing to the character or conduct of his wife. We only add an extract from a manuscript, now before us, written by her niece, Miss Sarah Wesley, with whom she lived on the most loving and confidential terms. Miss Wesley, daughter of Charles, observes:—

“Dr. Johnson was an early friend of hers; to her my father owed his acquaintance with the Doctor, and I, the honour of his favour. I used to accompany her to Bolt Court, and had the privilege of hearing their discourse.

“Her whole character was eminent for magnanimity and tenderness. When her unfortunate husband contended for the lawfulness of polygamy, and acted on his erroneous principles, in all her expostulations, she never lost her command of language, or gave him a reproachful word.

“She was particularly distinguished with favour, by my grandmother, for her docile and tranquil spirit; and her brothers and sisters nick-named her the patient Grisele. Such was her attachment to my uncle John, that, if she was in any pain or trouble in her infant days, the sight of him would instantly cheer her. I never heard of so strong an affection, which lasted toward him through life. My grandmother once entered the room, where the children were in high glee and frolic, and said, ‘Ah, you will all, one day, be more thoughtful, as you grow in years.’ Martha replied, ‘Shall I be more thoughtful?’ ‘No,’ said her mother. Indeed, by all that I have heard, she was born a philosopher, and preferred her mother’s chamber to sports or recreations, which naturally endeared her to the parent, whom she almost idolized.

“Were I to relate the instances of her kindness to me, I could fill a book. No parent’s love could exceed hers. It was a joyful day whenever I was to spend it with her. Even my brothers looked forward with delightful anticipation, when her weekly visit was to be paid us (for one day of the week was appropriated by my father to receive her). Her conversation so far resembled my uncle’s, that, children idolized her; and her memory, to the last, supplied the place of books. She had the best of our poets by heart; and her mode of giving advice was so gentle, that offence could not be taken. Her compassion and charity to the poor were such, that, my father used to say, it was needless to give anything to Pat for her own comfort; she always gave it away to some beggar, and forgot herself.

“I was with her at her death. Composed and tranquil, she reasoned about every pain, as occasioning it, with the same serenity she would have spoken of common things. She had no disease, but the springs of life were worn out. A little before her departure, she called me to her bedside, and said, ‘You have heard me wish for assurance,’ (of happiness, she meant), ‘I have it now. Shout!’ and died!”

Mrs. Hall was the last survivor of the Wesley family,—her father, mother, brothers, and sisters having all died before her. In the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1791, there is the following obituary notice.

“1791. July 12, in the City Road, in her eighty-fourth year, Mrs. Martha Hall, widow of the Rev. Mr. 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 eternize her memory in better worlds than this.”

Her remains are interred in the same vault as those of her brother John, in the burial ground of his chapel, in City Road, London.

Our story of the Oxford Methodists is ended.