JOHN CLAYTON. THOMAS BROUGHTON.

JAMES HERVEY.

BENJAMIN INGHAM. JOHN GAMBOLD.

HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.

THE
OXFORD METHODISTS:

MEMOIRS OF THE
REV. MESSRS. CLAYTON, INGHAM, GAMBOLD,
HERVEY, AND BROUGHTON,
WITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF OTHERS.

BY THE
Rev. L. TYERMAN,
AUTHOR OF “THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE REV. JOHN WESLEY, M.A.,
FOUNDER OF THE METHODISTS.”

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
1873.

PREFACE.

The present book is intended to serve as a companion volume to “The Life and Times of Wesley;” and to assist in showing the wide and gracious results of a revival of religion.

In compiling the work just mentioned, I was compelled, by want of space, to lay aside a large amount of biographical material, some portions of which are embodied in the work now submitted to the reader; and other portions of which may be published at a future time.

Memoirs of the two Wesleys and of Whitefield have been designedly omitted, on the ground, that, their Memoirs, in extenso, are already in existence. Still, those illustrious men are often noticed in the following pages; and, I hope, the facts concerning them will be both interesting and instructive. Of the other Oxford Methodists, no biographies have been previously written, with the exception of Hervey; and it is not censorious to say, that the two principal ones of him,—Ryland’s and Brown’s—are far from satisfactory.

The information concerning some of the Oxford Brotherhood is meagre. I have used all the diligence I could in obtaining materials; but brief notices, and scraps, and a few letters are all that I have to give. Fragmentary, however, though they are, I trust, they will not be regarded as useless and irrelevant. The biographical sketches of Clayton, Ingham, Gambold, Hervey, and Broughton, are more extended. It would have been a satisfaction to have left Westley Hall in the shades of oblivion; but, in telling the story of the Oxford Methodists, it was impossible not to notice him.

A marvellous work was accomplished by the Wesley brothers and by Whitefield; but it is a great mistake, and not a just acknowledgment of the grace of God, to regard the results of the revival of religion in the Oxford University, as confined to Methodism. Contemporaneous Reformers, raised up by Providence, are seldom all employed in the same kind of work. At the beginning of the Christian era, God “gave some, apostles, and some, prophets, and some, evangelists, and some, pastors, and teachers, for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ” (Ephesians iv. 11, 12). Luther, Zuinglius, Melancthon, Œcolampadius, Erasmus, Calvin, Knox, Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer were all engaged, at the same time, in the same great and glorious reformation; but the services they rendered were as various as the dispositions and talents of the men themselves. So in regard to the movement in the Oxford University. Among the Oxford Methodists, the Wesleys and Whitefield will always be pre-eminent; but a great work was also done by their associates. Clayton’s High-Churchism was objectionable; but it is not unreasonable to indulge the hope, that, his earnest piety exercised a useful influence upon the clergy among whom he lived, and especially upon the young gentlemen who were favoured with the instructions of his school. Ingham, as an evangelist, was exceedingly successful among the masses in the North. The Moravian Church owes a debt of incalculable gratitude to Gambold, for checking and correcting its early religious follies. Broughton was efficiently employed in promoting the translation of the Bible, in the work of Home and Foreign Missions, in the distribution of religious tracts, and in the education of the children of the poor, at a period when the present principal societies for such objects did not exist. Hutchins, though retaining, at least, a few of his High-Church doctrines, was a spiritually-minded, earnest Christian; and, in the important office which, for so many years, he held in Lincoln College, could hardly fail in moulding the minds and hearts of some of the young students there. And Hervey was one of the first clergymen of the Church of England, in the last century, who turned the attention of the upper classes of society to religious matters. These were not trifling services. Do they not deserve to be recorded?

The Oxford revival of religion was pregnant with the most momentous issues. And so are most revivals. How often in the history of Methodism, though on a smaller scale, have its revivals of the work of God resulted in consequences bearing some analogy to those of the Oxford movement of a hundred and forty years ago? Who will not pray, that such “Divine visitations” may be continued and multiplied, not only in Methodism, but, in all the Churches of the Great Redeemer?

The Oxford Methodists, up to the time of their general dispersion from that seat of learning, were all (excepting, perhaps, Whitefield) Church of England Ritualists. Their moral conduct was most exemplary. They were studious, devout, self-denying, charitable. Their study of the Bible gained them the nicknames of “Bible-bigots,” and “Bible-moths.” Every morning and every evening, they spent an hour in private prayer; and, throughout the day, habituated themselves to the use of ejaculations, for humility, faith, hope, and love. They communicated at Christ Church once a week, and persuaded all they could to attend public prayers, sermons, and sacraments. They were constant visitors of the inmates of the parish workhouse, and of the prisoners in the Castle; and it was the practice of all of them to dispense in charity all they had, after providing for their own necessities. They also observed the discipline of the Church of England to the minutest points; and were scrupulously strict in practising the rubrics and canons. Every Wednesday and Friday, they fasted, tasting no food whatever, till three o’clock in the afternoon. Though, perhaps, they never held the doctrine of the human nature of the Divine Redeemer being present in the elements of the holy sacrament, they held something approaching this, and spoke of “an outward sacrifice offered therein.” They more than approved of the mixture of water with the sacramental wine; and religiously observed saint days, holidays, and Saturdays. They maintained the doctrine of apostolical succession, and believed no one had authority to administer the sacraments who was not episcopally ordained. Even in Georgia, Wesley excluded Dissenters from the holy communion, on the ground, that they had not been properly baptized, and would himself baptize only by immersion, unless the child, or person, was in a weak state of health. He also enforced confession, penance, and mortification; and, as far as possible, carried into execution the Apostolic Constitutions. In short, with the exception of sacerdotal millinery, the burning of incense, the worship of the Virgin, prayers for the dead, and two or three other kindred superstitions, the Oxford Methodists were the predecessors of the present ritualistic party in the Church of England.

The Oxford Methodists, however, had no desire to aggrandize themselves. They had not the slightest wish to be considered superior to their fellow mortals. They were sincere, and earnest inquirers after truth, and, in the study of the Holy Bible, in prayer to God, and in other devotional exercises, were an example worthy of imitation. God rarely leaves such inquirers in the dark. Wesley, and most of his Oxford friends were brought to a knowledge of “the truth as it is in Jesus;” and, being so, their faith, their energy, their prayers, their toils, and their cheerfully endured sufferings resulted in one of the most glorious revivals of the work of God, recorded in the history of the Christian Church.

May we not indulge the hope, that, what God did for the Oxford Methodists, He will do for those at the present day, who, in most respects, resemble them? Ought we not to pray for this? Indeed, has it not, to some extent, been realized? Though the leaders of the Oxford Tractarian movement have unquestionably served the interests of the Church of Rome, far more than the interests of the Church which nurtured them; yet, is it not a fact, that some of the hard-working evangelical clergy of the Church of England, now so successfully employed in the spread of truth, began their Christian life as the Oxford Methodists began theirs? And is it wrong to prayerfully cherish the expectation, that, in mercy to mankind, others will be brought to the same convictions? The Church, the Nation, and the World need their energy, earnestness, diligence, self-denial, and devotion. Let them lay aside their popish follies and proud pretensions and embrace the truth of Christ in its simplicity and its purity, and, at least, some of them may, under God, accomplish a work as great and as blessed as was accomplished by Wesley and his “Holy Club.”

I have nothing more to add, except to express my obligations to the descendants of the Oxford Methodists, for their courteous kindness in responding to my requests for information; and to other clergymen and gentlemen with whom I have been in correspondence.

The book is not a series of written portraits. I make no pretensions to artistic skill. I have simply done my best in collecting facts, from every source within my reach; and have narrated them as truly and as lucidly as I could.

L. TYERMAN.

Stanhope House, Clapham Park,
April 2nd, 1873.

THE
OXFORD METHODISTS.

THE FIRST OF THE OXFORD METHODISTS.

Robert Kirkham.

Wesley writes:—“In November, 1729, four young gentlemen of Oxford,—Mr. John Wesley, Fellow of Lincoln College; Mr. Charles Wesley, Student of Christ Church; Mr. Morgan, Commoner of Christ Church; and Mr. Kirkham, of Merton College,—began to spend some evenings in a week together in reading, chiefly, the Greek Testament.”[1]

These were the first Oxford Methodists; and, though there is little to be said of Morgan, and still less of Kirkham, they must not be passed in silence. Methodism may be traced to their associating with the two Wesleys, to read the Greek Testament, in 1729.

Robert Kirkham was the son of the Rev. Lionel Kirkham, a clergyman resident at Stanton, in Gloucestershire. The family consisted of Robert and at least two sisters, Sarah and Betty.

Sarah was the intimate friend of Mary Granville, afterwards Mrs. Delany, a woman of great accomplishments, who moved in the highest society and, for more than fifty years, was honoured with the friendship and confidence of King George III. and his Queen Charlotte. Sarah Kirkham was born in 1699; and, in 1725, was married to the Rev. John Capon, or, as the name is sometimes spelt, Chapone. She was a woman of great intellect and of an intensely warm and generous nature. “Sally,” wrote Mary Granville, in 1737, then Mrs. Pendarves, “would shine in an assembly composed of Tullys, Homers, and Miltons: at Gloucester, she is like a diamond set in jet,—their dulness makes her brightness brighter.”[2] Mrs. Chapone died in 1764.

Her sister Betsy was probably the first of Wesley’s sweethearts. As early as February 2, 1726, Robert Kirkham, writing, from home, to his “Dear Jacke,” at “Lincoln College, Oxford, by the Worcester carrier,” says,—

“Your most deserving, queer character, your personal accomplishments, your noble endowments of mind, your little and handsome person, and your most obliging and desirable conversation,—have often been the pleasing subject of our discourse. Often have you been in the thoughts of M. B.” [Miss Betsy?] “which I have curiously observed, when with her alone, by her inward smiles and sighs, and by her abrupt expressions concerning you. Shall this suffice? I caught her this morning in an humble and devout posture on her knees. I must conclude; and subscribe myself your most affectionate friend, and brother I wish I might write,

“Robert Kirkham.”

Twelve months after this, Wesley’s sister Martha wrote to him as follows:—

“When I knew that you were just returned from Worcestershire, where, I suppose, you saw your Varenese” [the pet name of Betsy Kirkham], “I then ceased to wonder at your silence; for the sight of such a woman might well make you forget me. I really have myself a vast respect for her, as I must necessarily have for one that is so dear to you.”

For more than three years subsequent to this, Wesley kept up a correspondence with Kirkham’s sister, and spoke of her in the tenderest terms. In 1731, their friendship was interrupted. Why? Did the young lady’s father interfere? Or did she herself prefer another? These are questions which it is almost impossible to answer; but it is a significant fact that, though the Kirkham family seems to have consisted of only one son and two daughters, one of those daughters died about twelve months afterwards; she, at the time of her death, bearing the name of Mrs. Wilson. Hence the following extract from a letter, written by Mrs. Pendarves, and dated “Killala, June 28th, 1732.”

“Poor Mrs. Wilson! I am sorry for the shock her death must have given Sally” [Mrs. Chapone] “whose tenderness must sometimes take place of her wisdom; but I hope when she considers the great advantage her sister, in all probability, will receive by the exchange she has lately made, that she will be reconciled to the loss of a sister that has given her more woe than happiness. Pray, has Mrs. Wilson left any children?”

Was Mrs. Wilson the quondam Betsy Kirkham? It is probable she was; for, though Mrs. Pendarves and Mrs. Chapone continued to be the warmest friends for thirty-two years after this, there is not, in the voluminous correspondence of the former, the least allusion to Betsy.

Perhaps these notices of Robert Kirkham’s sisters are hardly relevant; but it must be borne in mind that Kirkham was one of Wesley’s warmest friends, and that he wished to have Wesley for a brother.

As already intimated, of Robert Kirkham himself next to nothing has been published. In a letter to his mother, dated February 28, 1730, three months after the first Methodist meeting in Oxford, Wesley wrote:—

“I have another piece of news to acquaint you with, which, as it is more strange, will, I hope, be equally agreeable. A little while ago, Bob Kirkham took a fancy into his head, that he would lose no more time and waste no more money; in pursuance of which, he first resolved to breakfast no longer on tea; next, to drink no more ale in an evening, or, however, but to quench his thirst; then to read Greek or Latin from prayers in the morning till noon, and from dinner till five at night. And how much may one imagine he executed of these resolutions? Why, he has left off tea, struck off his drinking acquaintances to a man, given the hours above specified to the Greek Testament and Hugo Grotius, and spent the evenings either by himself or with my brother and me.”

This was a brave act. For a frank, frivolous, jovial young fellow like Robert Kirkham, who, in a letter to Wesley, four years before, had told his friend of his revelling over a dish of calves’ head and bacon, and a newly-tapped barrel of excellent cider, now to resolve to live a life like that which Wesley mentions, and to have firmness enough to fulfil his resolution, was no ordinary fact, and indicated a great change in the light-hearted young collegian. Was not this the very commencement of the Methodist organization?

In 1731, Kirkham took his leave of the Oxford brotherhood, to become his uncle’s curate. Where did he live after this? How did he live? When did he die? These are questions which we cannot answer. We have tried to obtain information concerning his subsequent career, but have failed.

William Morgan.

William Morgan was not only one of the first Oxford Methodists, but the first of them to enter heaven. The Wesleys and Kirkham were the sons of English clergymen. Morgan was the son of an Irish gentleman, resident in Dublin. As already stated, he was a Commoner of Christ Church; and Samuel Wesley, junior, who was well acquainted with him, speaks of him in the highest terms. From his childhood, he had been devout and diligent; he revered and loved his father; was a warm-hearted, faithful friend; a welcome visitor of orphans, widows, and prisoners; neither a formalist nor an enthusiast; but a man whose life was a beautiful gospel sermon, in a practical, embodied form. A short extract from Samuel Wesley’s poem, on Mr. Morgan’s death, will not be out of place.

“Wise in his prime, he waited not till noon,

Convinced that mortals ‘never lived too soon.’

As if foreboding then his little stay,

He made his morning bear the heat of day.

Fixed, while unfading glory he pursues,

No ill to hazard, and no good to lose;

No fair occasion glides unheeded by;

Snatching the golden moments as they fly,

He, by fleeting hours, ensures eternity.

Friendship’s warm beams his artless breast inspire,

And tenderest reverence to a much-loved sire.

He dared, for heaven, this flattering world forego;

Ardent to teach, as diligent to know;

Unwarped by sensual ends, or vulgar aims,

By idle riches, or by idler names;

Fearful of sin in every close disguise;

Unmoved by threatening or by glozing lies;

Gladdening the poor where’er his steps he turned,

Where pined the orphan, or the widow mourned;

Where prisoners sighed beneath guilt’s horrid stain,

The worst confinement and the heaviest chain;

Where death’s sad shade the uninstructed sight

Veil’d with thick darkness in the land of light

Nor yet the priestly function he invades:

’Tis not his sermon, but his life, persuades.

Humble and teachable, to church he flies,

Prepared to practise, not to criticise.

Then only angry, when a wretch conveys

The Deist’s poison in the Gospel phrase.

To means of grace the last respect he showed,

Nor sought new paths, as wiser than his God;

Their sacred strength preserved him from extremes

Of empty outside, or enthusiast dreams;

Whims of Molinos, lost in rapture’s mist,

Or Quaker, late-reforming Quietist.”[3]

It was in November, 1729, that the first four of the Oxford Methodists began their sacred meetings. Two months later, William Morgan wrote to Wesley the following, which contains a reference to the interest that the Methodists already took in prisoners, and which, being one of the very few of Morgan’s letters still existing, may not be unacceptable.

“February 5, 1730.

“Dear Sir,—About seven last night I reached Oxford, and, after having long rested my wearied limbs, went this morning to Bo-Cro, who have exceeded our best wishes. I have just finished my rounds, and perceive it was not for nothing that I came hither before you. Stewart’s papers will not be in London till Monday. He desires you to get the rule of court for him, and let him have it as soon as possible. Coster begs you would call at Mrs. Hannah Ebbins’, upholsterer, in Shadwell Street, near Tower Hill, at the sign of the Flag, and let her know his present condition. She is very rich, he says, and has often told him she would at any time do him whatever service she could.

“Fisher desires you to look into the Gazette, and see whether the estate of John Davies, of Goldington and Ravensden,[4] is to be sold.

“You would do well to buy a few cheap spelling-books if you can meet with any, for they are wanted much at the Castle.

“Comb’s goods were seized last week, and ’tis thought he is gone to London. If he should call on you for what you owe him, put him in mind of paying you, for me, the twelve shillings he owes me. I forgot to tell you that I neglected to call at Mrs. Baxter’s landlord’s. I wish you would bring my picture of Queen Elizabeth to Oxford, as carefully as you can; it is in a large book in your sister’s closet. There is a plan of mine in the box with your linen, which I likewise desire you would bring with you. Pray give my love to Charles, best respects to your brother and sister, and service to Mrs. Berry[5] and Miss Nancy.

“I am, dear sir,

“Your sincere friend, and affectionate humble servant,

“William Morgan.

“Pray don’t forget to inquire for my pocket-book.”

This curious letter of small commissions is not devoid of interest, inasmuch as it plainly shows,—1. The close intimacy between Morgan and the Wesley brothers. 2. Morgan’s keenness in looking after his pecuniary rights. And 3. That some, at least, of the Oxford Methodists were not, as yet, so intensely religious as they soon afterwards became.

It was not long before the young collegians evinced more earnestness. Wesley writes:—

“In the summer of 1730, Mr. Morgan told me he had called at the gaol, to see a man who was condemned for killing his wife; and that, from the talk he had with one of the debtors, he verily believed it would do much good, if any one would be at the pains of now and then speaking with them. This he so frequently repeated, that, on the 24th of August, 1730, my brother and I walked with him to the Castle. We were so well satisfied with our conversation there, that we agreed to go thither once or twice a week; which we had not done long, before he desired me to go with him to see a poor woman in the town, who was sick. In this employment, too, when we came to reflect upon it, we believed it would be worth while to spend an hour or two in a week; provided the minister of the parish, in which any such person was, were not against it. But that we might not depend wholly on our own judgments, I wrote an account to my father of our whole design; withal begging that he, who had lived seventy years in the world, and seen as much of it as most private men have ever done, would advise us whether we had yet gone too far, and whether we should now stand still, or go forward.”

Wesley’s father highly approved of the project of the young Methodists, and wrote,—

“You have reason to bless God, as I do, that you have so fast a friend as Mr. Morgan, who, I see, in the most difficult service, is ready to break the ice for you. You do not know of how much good that poor wretch, who killed his wife, has been the providential occasion. I think I must adopt Mr. Morgan to be my son, together with you and your brother Charles; and, when I have such a ternion to prosecute that war, wherein I am now miles emeritus, I shall not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate.”

The venerable Rector of Epworth then proceeds to advise them to consult with the chaplain of the prisoners, and to obtain the direction and approbation of the bishop.

This was done. Wesley writes:—

“In pursuance of these directions, I immediately went to Mr. Gerard, the Bishop of Oxford’s chaplain, who was likewise the person that took care of the prisoners when any were condemned to die (at other times they were left to their own care). I proposed to him our design of serving them as far as we could, and my own intention to preach there once a month, if the bishop approved of it. He much commended our design, and said he would answer for the bishop’s approbation, to whom he would take the first opportunity of mentioning it. It was not long before he informed me that he had done so, and that his lordship not only gave his permission, but was greatly pleased with the undertaking, and hoped it would have the desired success.”[6]

Methodism, in its beneficence, was now fairly started. Its first object was a condemned felon; its first visitor, William Morgan; its first approver, Wesley’s father; and its next the Bishop of Oxford, with his chaplain, Mr. Gerard.

The small band of godly collegians soon became the butt of ridicule. Robert Kirkham especially was stigmatized as a member of The Holy Club; and his college (Merton) became immensely merry at the expense of him and his companions. On December 1st, 1730, Wesley’s father addressed to them a letter to inspire them with confidence and hope:—

“Upon this encouragement,” writes Wesley, “we still continued to meet together as usual; and to confirm one another, as well as we could, in our resolutions to communicate as often as we had opportunity (which is here once a week); and to do what service we could to our acquaintance, the prisoners, and two or three poor families in the town.”

To the reading of the Greek Testament, and the visiting of prisoners and the poor, we here have weekly communion added to the programme of Oxford Methodism. What was the result?

Wesley continues:—

“The outcry daily increasing, that we might show what ground there was for it, we proposed to our friends or opponents, as we had opportunity, these or the like questions:—

“I. Whether it does not concern all men of all conditions to imitate Him, as much as they can, ‘Who went about doing good’?

“Whether all Christians are not concerned in that command, ‘While we have time, let us do good unto all men’?

“Whether we shall not be more happy hereafter, the more good we do now?

“Whether we can be happy at all hereafter, unless we have, according to our power, ‘fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited those that are sick, and in prison;’ and made all these actions subservient to a higher purpose, even the saving of souls from death?

“Whether it be not our bounden duty always to remember, that He did more for us than we can do for Him, who assures us, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me’?

“II. Whether, upon these considerations, we may not try to do good to our acquaintance? Particularly, whether we may not try to convince them of the necessity of being Christians?

“Whether of the consequent necessity of being scholars?

“Whether of the necessity of method and industry, in order to either learning or virtue?

“Whether we may not try to persuade them to confirm and increase their industry, by communicating as often as they can?

“Whether we may not mention to them the authors whom we conceive to have wrote the best on those subjects?

“Whether we may not assist them, as we are able, from time to time, to form resolutions upon what they read in those authors, and to execute them with steadiness and perseverance?

“III. Whether, upon the considerations above-mentioned, we may not try to do good to those that are hungry, naked, or sick? In particular, whether, if we know any necessitous family, we may not give them a little food, clothes, or physic, as they want?

“Whether we may not give them, if they can read, a Bible, Common Prayer Book, or ‘Whole Duty of Man’?

“Whether, we may not, now and then, inquire how they have used them, explain what they do not understand, and enforce what they do?

“Whether we may not enforce upon them, more especially, the necessity of private prayer, and of frequenting the church and sacrament?

“Whether we may not contribute, what little we are able, toward having their children clothed and taught to read?

“Whether we may not take care that they be taught their catechism, and short prayers for morning and evening?

“IV. Lastly: whether, upon the considerations above-mentioned, we may not try to do good to those that are in prison? In particular, whether we may not release such well-disposed persons as remain in prison for small sums?

“Whether we may not lend smaller sums to those that are of any trade, that they may procure themselves tools and materials to work with?

“Whether we may not give to them who appear to want it most, a little money, or clothes, or physic?

“Whether we may not supply as many as are serious enough to read, with a Bible and a Whole Duty of Man?

“Whether we may not, as we have opportunity, explain and enforce these upon them, especially with respect to public and private prayer, and the blessed sacrament?”[7]

Such, at the end of 1730, was the plan of benevolent action drawn up by the Oxford Methodists. Who can find fault with it? Wesley tells us, that they met with none who answered these questions in the negative, and that several helped them with quarterly subscriptions.[8]

Thus encouraged, the two Wesleys, Kirkham, and Morgan, cheerily pursued their way, “in spite of the ridicule which increased fast upon them during the winter.” The men of wit, in Christ Church, called them Sacramentarians. Their allies, at Merton, styled them The Holy Club. Others stigmatized them as The Godly Club; and others the Enthusiasts, or the Reforming Club; but ridicule, though far from pleasant, failed to check them in their laborious career.

In the summer of 1731, Mr. Morgan was disabled, by an attack of sickness, and retired to Holt; but under the date of June 11th, Wesley writes:—

“The poor at the Castle, however, have still the Gospel preached to them, and some of their temporal wants supplied, our little fund rather increasing than diminishing. Nor have we yet been forced to discharge any of the children which Mr. Morgan left to our care: though I wish they too do not find the want of him; I am sure some of their parents will.”[9]

Mr. Morgan’s affliction excited great interest in the Wesley family. Matthew Wesley, an eminent physician in London, was on a visit to his brother Samuel, the Rector of Epworth, and from thence went to Scarborough. In a letter to her son John, dated, “Epworth, July 12, 1731,” Susannah Wesley wrote:—

“Before your uncle went to Scarborough, I informed him of what I knew of Mr. Morgan’s case. When he came back, he told me he had tried the spa at Scarborough, and could assure me that it far exceeded all the other spas in Europe, for he had been at them all, both in Germany and elsewhere; that, at Scarborough, there were two springs, as he was informed, close together, which flowed into one basin, the one a chalybeate, the other a purgative water; and he did not believe there was the like in any other part of the world. He said, ‘If that gentleman, you told me of, could by any means be got thither, though his age is the most dangerous time in life for his distemper, yet I am of opinion those waters would cure him.’ I thought good to tell you this, that you might, if you please, inform Mr. Morgan of it.”

Poor Morgan’s work was ended.

“For more than twelve months,” writes Mr. Moore, “he was so greatly reduced, that he became a burden to himself, and totally useless to others. In this stage of his disease, his understanding sometimes appeared deranged; he became more changeable in his temper than usual, and inconsistent in his conversation. But this was purely the effect of his disease; not the least symptom of the kind having ever appeared till long after his health had declined.”

In the month of March, 1732, his father informed him that he should no longer be limited to a fixed allowance, but should have all the money that was necessary for his state of health; at the same time, however, strongly insisting that no part of his remittances should be spent in charity; and adding,—

“You cannot conceive what a noise that ridiculous society in which you are engaged has made here. Besides the particulars of the great follies of it at Oxford (which to my great concern I have often heard repeated), it gave me sensible trouble to hear that you were noted for going into the villages about Holt; calling their children together, and teaching them their prayers and catechism, and giving them a shilling at your departure. I could not but advise with a wise, pious, and learned clergyman. He told me that he has known the worst of consequences follow from such blind zeal; and plainly satisfied me that it was a thorough mistake of true piety and religion. I proposed writing to some prudent and good man at Oxford to reason with you on these points, and to convince you that you were in a wrong way. He said, in a generous mind, as he took yours to be, the admonition and advice of a father would make a deeper impression than all the exhortations of others. He concluded, that you were young as yet, and that your judgment was not come to its maturity; but as soon as your judgment improved, and on the advice of a true friend, you would see the error of your way, and think, as he does, that you may walk uprightly and safely, without endeavouring to outdo all the good bishops, clergy, and other pious and good men of the present and past ages: which God Almighty give you grace and sense to understand aright!”[10]

Thus had the young Methodists to encounter, not only the ridicule of the outside world, but the rebuke of their own relatives and friends. The Epworth rector encouraged them; the Dublin gentleman pronounced upon them censure.

A month after the date of Mr. Morgan’s letter to his sick son, Samuel Wesley, junior, paid a visit to the Oxford Methodists, and, on his return to London, wrote a poetical epistle to his brother Charles, dated April 20, 1732. The following are some of the concluding lines:—

“One or two questions more, before I end,

That much concern a brother and a friend:—

Does John beyond his strength presume to go,

To his frail carcase literally a foe?

Lavish of health, as if in haste to die,

And shorten time to insure eternity?

Does Morgan weakly think his time misspent?

Of his best actions can he now repent?

Others, their sins with reason just deplore,

The guilt remaining when the pleasure’s o’er;

Shall he for virtue, first, himself upbraid,

Since the foundation of the world was laid?

Shall he (what most men to their sins deny)

Show pain for alms, remorse for piety?

Can he the sacred Eucharist decline?

What Clement poisons here the bread and wine?

Or does his sad disease possess him whole,

And taint alike the body and the soul?

If to renounce his graces he decree,

O that he could transfer the stroke to me!

Does earth grow fairer to his parting eye?

Is heaven less lovely, as it seems more nigh?

O, wondrous preparation this—to die!”

Two months subsequent to Samuel Wesley’s visit, poor Morgan took his final departure from his friends at Oxford. He was sick in body and in mind. His end was near, though he knew it not. Leaving Oxford on the 5th of June, 1732, he proceeded to his father’s house in Dublin. Here he spent six weeks, and again set out for Oxford. The following letter, addressed to Wesley by his father, will tell the brief remainder of his short history. The letter was written fifteen months after Morgan’s untimely death; and, during this melancholy interval, his only surviving brother had been placed under Wesley’s tuition.

“Dublin, November, 1733.

“My concern about my only son brings the misfortunes of my other son fresh into my mind, and obliges me now to impart to you, and only to you, what I have hitherto concealed from all men, as far as it could be kept secret. After he had spent about six weeks with me in Dublin, the physicians agreed that the air at Oxford was better for his health than the Irish air. I myself was obliged to take a journey with my Lord Primate into his diocese, and on the same day my dear son set out on his journey to England. He rode an easy pad, and was to make easy stages through part of this kingdom, to see some relations in the way, and to take shipping at Cork, from which there is a short passage to Bristol, and from thence the journey is not great to Oxford. He travelled twelve miles the first day, attended by that careful servant who was with him at Oxford. The servant observed him to act and talk lightly and incoherently that day. He slept little or none at night; but often cried out that the house was on fire, and used other wild expressions. The second day he grew worse; threw his bridle over the horse’s head, and would neither guide him himself nor let the man guide him, but charged him to stay behind him, saying God would be his guide. The horse turned about, went in side roads, and then to a disused quarry filled with water, where my poor child fell off, and had then like to be lost, the servant not daring to do but as he bid him. The servant, finding him deprived of all understanding and also outrageous, by great art and management, brought him back to Dublin. Two of our most eminent physicians and the surgeon-general were brought to attend him. An express was sent for me, with whom I hastened back to town. He was put in a room two pairs of stairs high, yet he found an opportunity to run to one of the windows, tore it down though the sashes were nailed, and was more than half out before he could be caught. He was raging mad, and three men were set over him to watch him. By the diction of the physicians, he was threatened with ropes and chains, which were produced to him, and were rattled. In his madness, he used to say, that enthusiasm was his madness; and repeated often, ‘O religious madness.’ He said, they had ‘hindered him being now with God,’ because they had hindered him from throwing himself out of the window. But, in his greatest rage, he never cursed or swore or used any profane expressions. In seven days, God was pleased to take him to Himself; which, no doubt, the blisterings and severities used by the physicians and surgeon for his recovery precipitated.”

This, in all respects, is a mournful story. No useful end would be answered by asking, whether much religion, or much unkindness, or “much learning,” made poor Morgan mad. His father’s letter, written in March, 1732, was, to say the least, injudicious; and the treatment of the Dublin doctors, in August following, was preposterously cruel. The man himself was a lovely character. Gambold, who seems to have made the fifth Oxford Methodist, observes concerning Morgan:—

“He was a young man of an excellent disposition, and took all opportunities to make his companions in love with a good life; to create in them a reverence for public worship; and to tell them of their faults with a sweetness and simplicity that disarmed the worst tempers. He delighted much in works of charity. He kept several children at school; and when he found beggars in the street, he would bring them into his chambers, and talk to them. Many such things he did; and, being acquainted with Messrs. John and Charles Wesley, he invited them to join with him; and proposed that they should meet frequently to encourage one another, and have some scheme to proceed by in their daily employments. About half a year after I got among them, Mr. Morgan died. His calm and resigned behaviour, hardly curbing in a confident joy in God, wrought very much upon me; though, when I had an opportunity to observe him, he was under a lingering distemper. Some were displeased because he did not make some direct preparation for death; but to a man who has overcome the world, and feels God within him, death is no new thing.”

Poor Morgan’s decease occurred in Dublin, on August 26, 1732; and no sooner was the event known, than it was wickedly and cruelly alleged, that his Methodist associates had killed him. Hence the following, which Wesley addressed to Morgan’s father within two months after the former’s death.

“Oxon, October 18, 1732.

“On Sunday last, I was informed that my brother and I had killed your son; that the rigorous fasting which he had imposed upon himself, by our advice, had increased his illness and hastened his death. Now though, considering it in itself, ‘it is a very small thing with me to be judged by man’s judgment;’ yet as the being thought guilty of so mischievous an imprudence might make me the less able to do the work I came into the world for, I am obliged to clear myself of it, by observing to you, as I have done to others, that your son left off fasting about a year and a half since; and that it is not yet half a year since I began to practise it.”[11]

Apart from amply refuting the slanderous charge already mentioned, this extract from Wesley’s letter is of considerable importance, as it clearly shows that fasting was not a part of the primary programme of the Methodists; and that, if fasting is to be taken as a proof of religious earnestness, Morgan, in the first instance, was the most religious of the brotherhood. Whether Morgan was in the habit of observing the ecclesiastical fasts when the Methodist meetings were commenced in November, 1729, is not apparent; but it is quite clear that his discontinuance of fasting was occasioned by his declining health. It was about the month of May, 1731, when fasting was relinquished; and, as we have already seen, it was then that the illness commenced which issued in his death. Whether fasting induced that illness is a point which must be left undecided; but, even admitting that it did, Wesley was not to blame, for Wesley himself did not begin to fast until a year after Morgan had laid aside the practice.

Whatever others did, Morgan’s father fully exonerated the two Wesleys; and, though he had censured his son for what he conceived to be excessive piety only five months before the young man’s death, that piety was now a source of consolation. Replying to Wesley’s letter, dated October 18, 1732, Mr. Morgan writes:—

“November 25, 1732.

“Rev. Sir,—I give entire credit to everything and every fact you relate. It was ill-judged of my poor son to take to fasting, with regard to his health, of which I knew nothing, or I should have advised him against it. He was inclined to piety and virtue from his infancy. I must own I was much concerned at the strange accounts which were spread here, of some extraordinary practices of a religious society in which he had engaged at Oxford, lest, through his youth and immaturity of judgment, he might be hurried into zeal and enthusiastic notions that would prove pernicious. But now, indeed, the piety and holiness of life which he practised afford me some comfort in the midst of my affliction for the loss of him, having full assurance of his being for ever happy. The good account you are pleased to give of your own and your friends’ conduct, in point of duty and religious offices, and the zealous approbation of them by the good old gentleman your father, reconcile and recommend that method of life to me, and make me almost wish that I were one amongst you.

“I am, with respects to your brother, sir, your most obliged and most obedient humble servant,

“Richard Morgan.”

Here the chapter on “The First of the Oxford Methodists” ought to end; but, perhaps, this is the most fitting place for the following correspondence respecting William Morgan’s brother; especially as it casts further light upon the principles and mode of life of Wesley and his friends. Chronologically it is out of order, for Richard Morgan did not belong to the quaternion brotherhood who were first branded with the name of “Methodists;” but, still, the ensuing letters serve as a continuation of those already given, and, viewed in such a light, may be acceptable.

William Morgan’s Brother.

In a letter, dated “Feb. 17, 1733,” Mr. Morgan, senior, states that he is wishful that the books of his deceased son, William, should belong to his only surviving son; and then adds:—

“I assure you, sir, without any dissimulation or flattery, I rejoice sincerely at the recovery of the good old gentleman, your father.[12] And I really am concerned that the scorners of your university continue so malevolent. I could wish they would rather meet you at least half way in imitation of piety and goodness. I must say that these censures have, in a great measure, ceased here; and I am comforted by my acquaintance telling me that I should [not?] grieve the loss, from the assurance we have of my dear son’s happiness with God, after such a course of piety and godliness as he had engaged in. I pray God to conduct us all to meet together in happiness hereafter. Be assured that you shall never want an advocate in me to defend you against any calumny that I hear you or your friends aspersed with. Pray give my salutations to your good father when you write to him, and to your brother of Christ Church; for I am, with great sincerity, theirs, and, sir, your very affectionate humble servant,

“Richard Morgan.”

The Oxford Methodists were still slandered; but the father of the dead Morgan, so far from blaming them, was now their faithful friend and defender. This was shown, not in words only, but in deeds; for, during this same year, 1733, he sent his surviving son to Oxford, and placed him under the tuition of Wesley, one of the men who had been accused of hastening the death of William. Hence the following, extracted from a letter addressed to Wesley:—

“Dublin, November 22nd, 1733.

“Rev. Sir,—I had the favour of yours, and am very thankful for your care and concern about my son, who, I am sure, will observe your advice and directions in everything. I would have him live a sober, virtuous, and religious life, and to go to church and sacrament, according to the statutes and customs of his college; but for young people to pretend to be more pure and holy than the rest of mankind is a dangerous experiment As to charitable subscriptions and contributions, I wholly debar him from making any; because he has not one shilling of his own, but what I give him; and this I appropriate wholly to his maintenance, education, and moderate and inoffensive recreations and pleasures. And, I believe, as a casuist, you will agree with me that it is injustice, and, consequently, sinful, rather than virtuous, to apply my money any other way than as I appropriate it. He must leave me to measure out my own charities, and to distribute them in such manner and proportion as I shall think proper. I hope you will not suspect, from anything I have said, that I intend the least reflection or disrespect to you; for if I did not think very well of you, and had not a great opinion of your conduct and abilities, I should not put my only son under your tuition, which, I think, is the best proof a man can give of his good esteem and opinion of another. I hope I may be excused for being solicitous to prevent my present son’s falling into extremes, which, it is thought, were so prejudicial to my other.

“I sent a bill of £50, by the last post, to Mr. James Huey, merchant, in Aldermanbury, London, with directions to transmit the value to you, which I hope is done. I shall begrudge no money that is for my son’s benefit and advantage. I would have him live as decently as other gentlemen of his station. I am very desirous that he should keep a regular account, that he may attain to a habit of it, knowing the great use and benefit of accounts to all men. I shall depend upon your letting me know when a further supply will be wanting. Pay my respects to your brother, and believe me to be your very affectionate and most humble servant,

“Richard Morgan.”

“To the Rev. John Wesley, Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford.”

No one can find fault with Mr. Morgan’s letter. It was economical, and yet generous. For want of judicious restraint like his, hundreds of young Oxonians have been ruined. Too much money in a young man’s pocket is a terrible temptation and danger. Besides, Morgan, though only nineteen years of age, had hitherto evinced none of the sobriety of his elder brother; but, on the contrary, had been a brisk, showy, gay young fellow. Hence, his father’s description of him to Charles Wesley. After stating that though he had left school at the age of sixteen, he was even then “fit for the university, and at least as good a scholar as his brother was when he went to Oxford;” Mr. Morgan adds,—

“Three years ago, I purchased an office for him in the law; but, I fear, he has read very little of Greek or Latin since, and that he has forgotten a great deal of what he had learned at school; but I don’t think his parts very bad. He was nineteen years of age last July, and is very lusty for his age. I believe he is five feet ten inches high. He has been somewhat gay, and gone to plays and balls; but addicted to no vice. He has often wished rather to be put forward in his learning, than to stick to an office; and I am now inclined to indulge him. If it be advisable to put him in this new way of life, you may be sure I can think of no other for his tutor but yourself.”

Charles Wesley, however, thought that the young man would be safer with his brother than with himself; and, indeed, Morgan himself desired that he might be entered a Gentleman Commoner of Lincoln College, and be Wesley’s pupil. His father complied with this request; but the youth soon became dissatisfied. Being under Wesley’s care, he was branded with the name of Methodist; and, in a fit of mortified vanity, wrote to his father, saying, he would rather return to his office in Dublin, than suffer the sneers of his gay companions, in Oxford. Wesley became acquainted with this, and immediately addressed to Mr. Morgan a letter, which, though long, is too interesting and important to be omitted. We have here a glimpse of the daily life of the Oxford Methodists, a specimen of the contumely cast upon them, and a description of the collegiate wickedness surrounding them. It will be seen that Wesley’s letter was written within two months after the date of Mr. Morgan’s letter just given.

“January 14th, 1734.

“Sir,—Going yesterday into your son’s room, I providentially cast my eyes upon a paper that lay upon the table, and, contrary to my custom, read a line or two of it, which soon determined me to read the rest. It was a copy of his last letter to you; whereby, by the signal blessing of God, I came to the knowledge of his real sentiments, both with regard to myself and to several other points of the highest importance.

“In the account he gives of me, and those friends who are as my own soul, are some things true:—as, that we imagine it is our bounden duty to spend our whole lives in the service of Him that gave them; or in other words, ‘Whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, to do all to the glory of God;’ that we endeavour, as we are able, to relieve the poor, by buying books and other necessaries for them; that some of us read prayers at the prison once a day; that I administer the Sacrament once a month, and preach there as often as I am not engaged elsewhere; that we sit together five evenings in a week; and that we observe, as far as our health will permit, the fasts of the Church.

“Some things are false, but taken upon trust, so that I hope Mr. Morgan believed them true:—as that we almost starve ourselves; that one of us had like lately to have lost his life, by too great abstinence; that we endeavour to reform notorious whores, and to lay spirits in haunted houses; that we rise every day at five o’clock; and that I am president of the Society.

“As strange as it may appear that one present upon the spot should so far vary from the truth in his relation, I can easily account, not only for his mistake, but for his designed misrepresentation too. The company he is almost daily with (from whom indeed I should have divided him, had not your letters, coming in the article of time, tied my hands) abundantly accounts for the former; as his desire to lessen your regard for me, and thereby obviate the force of any future complaint, which he foresaw I might some time hence have occasion to make to you, does for the latter.

“And, indeed, I am not without apprehension that some such occasion may shortly come. I need not describe that apprehension to you. Is there not a cause? Is he not surrounded, even in this recess, with those who are often more pernicious than open libertines? Men who retain something of outward decency, and nothing else; who seriously idle away the whole day, and repeatedly revel till midnight, and if not drunken themselves, yet encouraging and applauding those that are so; who have no more of the form than of the power of godliness, and though they do pretty often drop in at the public prayers, coming after the most solemn part of them is over, yet expressly disown any obligation to attend them. It is true they have not yet laughed your son out of all his diligence; but how long it will be before they have, God knows. They zealously endeavour it at all convenient opportunities; and temporal views are as unable to support him under such an attack, as his slender notions of religion are; of which, he often says, he thinks he shall have enough, if he constantly says his prayers at home and in the chapel. As to my advice on this or any other head, they had secured him pretty well before; and your authority added to theirs; has supplied him with armour of proof against it.

“I now beg to know what you would have me to do? Shall I sit still, and let him swim down the stream? Or shall I plunge in, bound as I am hand and foot, and oppose myself to his company, his inclinations, and his father?

“Why, you say, I am to incite him to live a sober, virtuous, and religious life. Nay, but let me first tell you what religion is. I take religion to be, not the bare saying over so many prayers, morning and evening, in public or in private; not anything superadded now and then to a careless or worldly life; but a constant ruling habit of the soul; a renewal of our minds in the image of God; a recovery of the Divine likeness; a still increasing conformity of heart and life to the pattern of our most Holy Redeemer.

“But if this be religion, if this be the way to life, which our blessed Lord hath marked out for us, how can any one, while he keeps close to this way, be charged with running into extremes? It is true, there is no going out of it, either to the right hand or to the left, without running into an extreme; and, to prevent this, the wisdom of the Church has, in all ages, appointed guides for the unexperienced, lest they should wander into bye-paths and seek death in the error of their life. But while he is in the right way, what fear is there of your son’s going too fast in it?

“I appeal to your experience. Have you observed any such disposition in him, as gives you ground to suspect he will love God too well, or keep himself too ‘unspotted from the world’? Or has his past life been such, as that you have just reason to apprehend the remainder of it should too much resemble that of our blessed Master? I will go further. Have you remarked in the various scenes you have gone through, that youth in general is apt to run into the extreme of piety? Is it to this excess that the fervour of their blood and the impetuosity of their passions hurry them?

“But we may not stop here. Is there any fear, is there any possibility that any son of Adam, of whatever age or degree, should too faithfully do the will of his Creator, or too exactly tread in the steps of his Redeemer? Suppose the time now come when you feel within yourself, that the silver cord of life is loosed, that the dust is returning to the earth as it was, and the spirit unto God who gave it. The snares of death overtake you. Nothing but pain is on the one hand, eternity on the other. The tears of the friends that surround your bed bear witness with the pangs of your own heart, that it has few pulses more to beat before you launch out into the sea without a shore; before the soul shall part from the quivering lips and stand naked before the judgment-seat of God. Will you then be content with having served God according to the custom of the place you were in? Will you regret your having been, even from your youth, more pure and holy than the rest of mankind? Will you complain to the ministering spirits who receive your new-born soul, that you have been over zealous in the love of your Master? Ask not me, a poor, fallible, sinful mortal, never safe either from the snares of ill example or the treachery of my own heart; but ask them,—ask Him who died to make you and me and your son zealous of good works,—whether you may be excused from your solicitude, your too successful solicitude, to prevent his falling into this extreme? How needless has he made that solicitude already! But, I spare you. The good Lord be merciful to us both!

“Think not, sir, that interest occasions the concern I show. I abhor the thought. From the moment my brother told me, ‘Mr. Morgan will be safer with you than me; I have desired him to be sent to you,’ I determined (though I never mentioned it to him) to restore to him whatsoever is paid me upon Mr. Morgan’s account. It is, with regard to me, an accursed thing. There shall no such cleave unto me. I have sufficient motives, without this, to assist your son, so long as he will accept my assistance. He is the brother of my dear friend, the son of one that was my friend till great names warped him from his purpose, and, what is infinitely more, the creature of my God, and the redeemed and fellow-heir of my Saviour.

“That neither the cares of the world nor the fair speeches and venerable titles of any who set up their rest therein, may prevent our attaining our better inheritance, is the earnest prayer of, sir, your most obliged and most obedient servant,

“John Wesley.”

“Richard Morgan, Esq.”[13]

This is a noble letter, though, perhaps, somewhat hard upon Mr. Morgan, senior. The picture of collegiate life at Oxford shows the need there was for Oxford Methodism; while the definitions of real religion demonstrate that the leader of the Oxford Methodists was not the fanatic which his enemies said he was.

Unfortunately, we soon lose sight of the gay young Gentleman Commoner of Lincoln College; but Wesley’s interest in his welfare was not without results. For a considerable time, no impression could be made on the airy and thoughtless youth. Wesley did his best, but failed; and, at length, he desired Hervey to undertake the task. Hervey succeeded. John Gambold writes:—

“Mr. Hervey, by his easy and engaging conversation, by letting him see a mind thoroughly serious and happy, where so many of the fine qualities he most esteemed were all gone over into the service of religion, gained Mr. Morgan’s heart to the best purposes.” Gambold adds, “Since Mr. Morgan became that meek, sincere Christian which he now is,” [written about 1736] “he has had a singular affection toward Mr. Wesley, and has run some hazard to be in his company,—a sign that those counsels and wishes, which seemed once to be given in vain, do now take place in him.”

About two years after this change in the young Irishman, Wesley, and his brother, accompanied by Benjamin Ingham, set sail for Georgia; and Morgan, so far from being ashamed of their acquaintance, went to London purposely to see them start; and expressed a willingness to go all the way to Yorkshire to do them service. Ingham writes:—[14]

“Mr. Morgan, a gentleman of Lincoln College, Oxford, came up to London to take leave of Mr. Wesley. He was a zealous and sincere Christian and was very earnest with me to go to Georgia. He promised himself to make a journey into Yorkshire to see my mother, and to do what he could towards settling the school. As to having my mother’s consent, he said, If I thought it was God’s will, I must obey my Master, and go wherever I could do Him service, whether my relations were willing or not.”

This was the fashionable young man who, two years before, entered Lincoln College, bringing a favourite greyhound with him; choosing men “more pernicious than open libertines” for his companions; and writing to his father querulous and false complaints of the Oxford Methodists.

Now he was an Oxford Methodist himself. Hence the following letter, which was addressed to Wesley, three weeks before the two Wesleys and Ingham embarked for Georgia.

“September 25, 1735.

“Dear Sir,—I hope this will find you and the rest of our friends well. This morning the Rector sent for me. He told me he had heard I had returned to my former strict way of life, and that he must acquaint my father with it. I desired, he would come to particulars, and said, that where I was wrong I should be glad to be set right. He said, I looked thin, and feared I would hurt myself by rigorous fasting. I told him, I dined in the hall on Wednesdays, and that I eat bread and butter on Friday mornings. He was pretty well satisfied with this account. He advised me to take something else instead of tea after fasting, which I promised to do. His next charge was not sitting in the common room. I said, I intended to sit there three nights every week, which he thought was sufficient. I unguardedly told him that, if it were agreeable to him, I would dine in the hall even on Fridays. He very much approved of this proposal, and said, I might observe any other day as a fast instead of it. I believe, if I would go into the hall on fast days, all my other actions would be less taken notice of, and I should put it out of the Rector’s or Mr. Hutchin’s power to make any complaints of me to my father. If I could be sure of not injuring religion by my example, I believe I might comply with the Rector herein, for, you are very sensible, I might notwithstanding observe the same degree of abstinence even on those days. I depend on the advice of my friends in this affair, and hope God will sanctify it to me. The Gospel tells us, that the children of God must suffer persecution from the world; but the Rector says, we must endeavour to have our persons in esteem, and those things wherein we differ from the world we must do privately. We must take care our good be not evil spoken of. Though the Church enjoins fasting, yet, because the bishops, the pillars of the Church, do not observe it, it loses its force. When he finds his blood hot, he says, he fasts, but unknown to anybody. He thinks it is a relative duty, and not confined to any particular time. He looks upon it only as a remedy against unchastity, and, if we are not troubled with this passion, I suppose, not obligatory. He advised me to read such books as were genteel accomplishments. I have, through God’s assistance, in some degree, seen my own weakness, by the effects of this anti-Christian doctrine, for it has quite discomposed me, though I was enabled to see the fallacy of it. I see nothing so well qualified to destroy my soul, to make me eternally miserable, as the conversation of temporizing Christians, which, I hope, by your advice and other means, God will prevent, as I am sure He will, if I am faithful to Him.

“When I desire your advice in this affair, I only desire you to prevent my eternal damnation; for it is in the greatest danger from this most subtle, deceitful, and dangerous of all enemies. Oh that I could express to you the danger I foresee from this enemy! My eyes and my heart alone could; but these you cannot see. May God enable you to comprehend it, and to do all that is in your power to prevent it! You cannot sufficiently arm me against the Rector. I suspect him of insincerity to you. I want to know whether you ever did. I believe, and Mr. Horn is of the same opinion, that my going to Ireland depends on my going into the hall on fast days. The Rector said as much as if you frightened others from religion by your example; and that you might have done a great deal of good, if you had been less strict, which I would be glad to be undeceived in, and to know whether the example of a thorough mortified Christian, though it would give the greatest offence, would not do more than that of a plausible Christian, who would give no offence at all. This is a point of great importance to me.

“It has pleased God to let me see that I can make no progress in religion till I have acquired some sense of the misery and nothingness of human nature, and of our entire dependence on Him. Though I go into the common room to avoid a greater evil,—though I would not live the life of those who spend their time there for all the world,—though I am scarcely capable of doing anything which is more disagreeable to me,—yet the poison is not removed. While I am with them, I love my sense, my judgment, my reason. It is true, I am all the time in pain; but I cannot say, at that time, they lead an un-Christian, dangerous life. I believe it is for want of faith, and for not looking upon it as a great blessing, since it is not my own choice. I want to know how to remove this delusion, and how to make an advantage of that which God no doubt intended for my good. If I do not make a use of this cross, I am satisfied it will be the ruin of me.

“Oh lay this to your heart, and make my case your own. Do not think you can spend your time better than in answering this letter. I hope you will not forget to pray to God to enable me to follow you wherever it is His will, and never to omit putting me in mind of it when you write to me.

“Mr. Robson is in a dangerous way. He is convinced of the necessity of being a Christian, but cannot leave the world. Mr. Carter, I fear, is not steady. Mr. Hervey is gone. Mr. Broughton is not yet returned. If he go to Georgia, it is best.”

This is a curious letter,—not remarkable for either intelligence or scholarship; but it partly unfolds the character of its writer; reveals some of the difficulties of the collegiate life of the Oxford Methodists; shows the importance which they attached to fasts; and points to Wesley as the leader of the religious brotherhood.

The Wesleys had left Oxford; but, for a time at least, Charles Morgan and Mr. Broughton carried on the work which they and the elder Morgan had commenced. Charles Morgan undertook the care of Bocardo, which he visited three days every week. He read an hour every other day, at the house of Mr. Fox, in the Catechism of the Bishop of the Isle of Man; and, in the same place, held a meeting every Sunday night with “a cheerful number of Christians.” “The Lord’s kingdom,” he writes, November 27, 1735, “increaseth apace; and I find-more and more comfort in the holy Scriptures every day.”

Our information concerning Robert Kirkham, William Morgan, and his younger brother Charles, is exhausted. As Oxford Methodists, they deserve notice; but, so far as is ascertained, they were of comparatively little use either to the Church or to the world. William Morgan had no opportunity for public usefulness; and Robert Kirkham and Charles Morgan drift away into the great ocean of existence, and leave no track behind them.

THE REV. JOHN CLAYTON, M.A.,
THE JACOBITE CHURCHMAN.

God has wisely and graciously hidden the future from us. We may form guesses concerning it; but we have not the slightest certainty that our guesses will be realised. Who, in 1732, could have foretold the future career of the Oxford Methodists? If the members of the Methodist fraternity could have seen beforehand the events of the next fifty years, what would have been the issue? Would the fellowship of the Hanoverian and Jacobite, the Methodist and Moravian, the Churchman and Dissenter, the Arminian and Calvinist, the itinerant Evangelist and the parish Priest, have been continued? That fellowship was of incalculable importance; but its maintenance depended upon the shortsightedness of those who were united in it. The drawing aside of the veil of futurity would, in all likelihood, have converted the loving brotherhood into an Ishmaelitish band, endangering, not only its future usefulness, but its present existence, by its own internecine fights. As it was, there went forth a number of brave-hearted men, all of them the better for their godly meetings in Wesley’s comfortable room in Lincoln College; and, though their courses were divergent, yet, in the main, they continued faithful to the cause of truth, and, with few exceptions, were always loyal to their great Master, Christ. In a qualified sense, we may apply to Oxford Methodism the words of the sacred text: “A river went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was parted, and became into four heads” (Gen. ii 10). Let us follow one of the out-flowings:—

John Clayton was the son of William Clayton, a bookseller in Manchester;[15] was born in 1709, and was educated by the Rev. John Richards, M.A., at the Grammar School in that important town. He entered Brazenose College in 1726, and became Hulme’s exhibitioner in 1729.[16] He was introduced to Wesley in 1732; and, by his recommendation, the Oxford Methodists took another important step, that of fasting twice a week. Wesley writes,—

“On April 20, 1732, Mr. Clayton meeting me in the street, and giving Mr. Rivington’s[17] service, I desired his company to my room, and then commenced our acquaintance. At the first opportunity, I acquainted him with our whole design, which he immediately and heartily closed with; and, not long after, (Mr. Morgan having then left Oxford,) we fixed two evenings in a week to meet on, partly to talk on that subject, and partly to read something in practical divinity. The two points whereunto, by the blessing of God, we had before attained, we endeavoured to hold fast: I mean, the doing what good we can; and, in order thereto, communicating as often as we have opportunity. To these, by the advice of Mr. Clayton, we added a third,—the observing the fasts of the Church; the general neglect of which we can by no means apprehend to be a lawful excuse for neglecting them. And in the resolution to adhere to these and all things else, which we are convinced God requires at our hands, we trust we shall persevere till He calls us to give an account of our stewardship. As for the names of Methodists, Supererogation-men, and so on, with which some of our neighbours are pleased to compliment us, we do not conceive ourselves to be under any obligation to regard them, much less to take them for arguments. ‘To the law and to the testimony’ we appeal, whereby we ought to be judged. If by these it can be proved we are in error, we will immediately and gladly retract it: if not, we ‘have not so learned Christ,’ as to renounce any part of His service, though men should ‘say all manner of evil against us,’ with more judgment and as little truth as hitherto. We do, indeed, use all the lawful means we know to prevent ‘the good which is in us’ from being ‘evil spoken of:’ but if the neglect of known duties be the one condition of securing our reputation, why, fare it well; we know whom we have believed, and what we thus lay out He will pay us again.”[18]

These were brave Christian words; the noble utterance of an earnest, conscientious, godly man. The Methodist brotherhood, thus portrayed, present an example which all who are right-minded cannot but admire. There is no taking for “doctrines the commandments of men;” no ridiculous toying with ecclesiastical or superstitious trifles; but a stout-hearted adherence to great, scripture principles. Wesley and his friends were not pious for the purpose of being singular, but because they felt it to be a duty. To be laughed at was far from being pleasant; but they were quite prepared to sacrifice even their reputation, rather than dishonour the religion of their great Master. Men might brand them with opprobrious epithets; but that with them was of trifling importance, if only at the day of judgment, Christ acknowledged them as friends. They knew they were not following “cunningly devised fables;” they were not flippant dabblers in “doubtful disputations;” but earnest men who knew that what they held was truth, and who, at all hazards, were resolved to practise it.

Clayton had spent six years at Oxford, and was now a college tutor.[19] The following letter was addressed to Wesley about three months after he and Clayton became acquainted. It is long, but is full of interest, and casts considerable light on the doings and difficulties of the Oxford Methodists. Wesley, at the time, seems to have been in London; where he was now made a member of “The Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge,” and also formed a friendship with William Law.

“Oxon, August 1, 1732.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—Excuse me for not interrupting you from attending to the noble work you have taken in hand, whilst I give you an account of the present state of our affairs at Oxford.

“I cannot but think it an extraordinary piece of Providence that, when we had lost our best advocate and patron, all opposition against us should immediately cease; for, since you left us, nobody has thought it worth while to attack either Mr. Smith or me,[20] or to endeavour to remove us from those principles wherein you, by the grace of God, have fixed us. I have gone every day to Lincoln, big with expectation to hear of some mighty attack made upon Mr. Smith; but, I thank God, I have always been disappointed; for not one of the Fellows has once so much as tried to shake him, or to convert him from the right way, wherein, I hope, he at present walks. Indeed, on Sunday, he met with a rub from Mr. Veesy, who refused to read Prayers for him in your chapel, for fear of contributing anything to his going to Christ Church. But Mr. Smith had the heart to desire that favour of the Rector which Mr. Veesy had denied him, who immediately promised to read for him, and encouraged him to proceed in the way he was in, and, if possible, to make further progress in virtue and holiness. He goes out of town to-morrow morning, and so will be entirely out of danger from the Fellows of Lincoln. We had conversation this morning, whilst we were at breakfast together, concerning the temptations which may arise from strange company and travelling; and Mr. Smith seems to be fore-armed against, and determined to oppose them to the utmost of his power. He joins with me in best respects to your brother and you, and desires you won’t forget to send the bands and the poems you promised him.

“Poor Mr. Clements[21] is still recovering. He was with me last night two hours, but I doubt to no purpose.

“My little flock[22] at Brazenose are, God be praised, true to their principles, and I hope to themselves too.

“Bocardo,[23] I fear, grows worse upon my hands. They have done nothing but quarrel ever since you left us; and they carried matters so high on Saturday, that the bailiffs were sent for, who ordered Tomlyns to be fettered and put in the dungeon, where he lay some hours, and then, upon promise of his good behaviour, was released again. He has been much better ever since that time, and I hope will be better for it all his lifetime. Wisdom has never been to hear me read, notwithstanding his promise. I sent for him yesterday, but he would not come down; and when I had done reading, I went upstairs to him, and upbraided him with breaking his promise, upon which he very easily replied, that he had thought better of it since he had seen me, and was determined never to come near Blair, lest his indignation should rise at the sight of him.

“The Castle is, I thank God, in much better condition. All the felons were acquitted, except Salmon, who is referred to be tried at Warwick, to our great disappointment,—and the sheep-stealer, who is burnt in the hand, and who, I verily believe, is a great penitent. I got Mrs. Jopping a copy of her son’s indictment at the assizes, which has made her mighty easy ever since; and she is now endeavouring to bring her mind into a due frame for the devout participation of the holy communion on Sunday next. Jempro is discharged, and I have appointed Harris to read to the prisoners in his stead. Two of the felons likewise have paid their fees, and are gone out, both of them able to read mighty well. There are only two in the jail who want this accomplishment,—John Clanvills, who reads but moderately, and the horse-stealer, who cannot read at all. He knows all his letters, however, and can spell most of the common monosyllables. I hear them both read three times a week, and I believe Salmon hears them so many times a day.

“One of my college scholars has left me, but the others go on mighty well. The woman, who was a perfect novice, spells tolerably, and so does one of the boys, and the others make shift to read with spelling every word that is longer than ordinary. The boys can both say their Catechism as far as the end of the Commandments, and can likewise repeat the morning and evening prayers for children in ‘Ken’s Manual.’

“Mrs. Tireby has been very ill this last week, so that she has made no great proficiency. I am to go down at six o’clock to hear the determination of a meeting of St. Thomas’s parish, respecting separating Bossum and his wife. When I had promised to give a crown towards clothing the woman, and the overseer had determined to take her in upon that condition, the churchwarden would needs have him try to put the man upon me too, to get a crown towards clothing him; but, as he is able to work for his living, I don’t think him a proper object for charity; nor can I at this time afford to do anything for him, because I am apprehensive that I must be forced to contribute to Salmon’s relief, who will want near twenty shillings to subpœna proper witnesses to Warwick at his trial; and I cannot but think it a much greater act of charity to relieve a suffering innocent than to relieve an idle beggar.

“I have been twice at the school,—namely on Tuesday and Saturday last, and intend to go again as soon as I have finished this letter. The children all go on pretty well, except Jervaise’s boy, who, I find, truants till eleven o’clock in a morning. I threatened the boy what we would do to him if ever he truanted any more, and he has promised (as all children do) that he will do so no more; nay, his mother assures me that she will take care for the future that he shall not. I got a shilling for her from our Vice Principal, and gave her sixpence myself, to preserve the gown that is in pawn from being sold; and the woman who has it promised not to sell it, provided Jervaise will bring her sixpence a week towards redeeming it.

“I have obtained leave to go to St. Thomas’s workhouse twice a week; and, indeed, I cannot but hope it will be a noble field of improvement. I am sure the people stand much in need of instruction, for there is hardly a soul that can read in the whole house, and those that can, don’t understand one word of what they read.

“I think I have nothing further to add about our affairs; only I must beg the favour of you, if you can conveniently, to pay Mr. Rivington thirty shillings for my use, and I will repay it when you come to Oxford. Pray don’t forget a few Common Prayer Books for the Castle.

“You cannot imagine the pleasure it is to me to know that you are engaged every morning in prayer for me. I wish for nine o’clock more eagerly than ever I did before, and I think I begin to perceive what is meant by that union of souls which is so much talked of in Père Malebranche and Madam Bourignon, which I never understood before. Good sir, continue your prayers for me, for I feel that I am benefited by them.

“I do not envy you the happiness, which I know you will have from the conversation of so many pious men as you will meet with in London, because I assure myself that I shall have the benefit of it when I have the pleasure to see you again at Oxford.

“Mr. Hall is not yet come home, so that I am pretty much taken up amongst the poor people and the prisoners, and have not yet had time to consider of any improvements or additions to be made to the list of books for our pupils.

“I thank God that I have fully conquered my affection for a morning’s nap, and rise constantly by five o’clock at the farthest, and have the pleasure to see myself imitated by the greatest part of my pupils. I have talked with Mr. Clements, and I hope have made him a proselyte to early rising, though I cannot to constant communion.

“Pray God prosper all those designs you have undertaken of doing good at London, and send you a good journey to Oxford.

“I am, rev. and dear sir, your most affectionate friend, and most obliged humble servant,

“J. Clayton.”

“I hope you will not forget to pay my due compliments to Sir John Philips, Mr. Wogan, and all my other good friends.

“To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley. To be left with Mr. Rivington, bookseller, in St Paul’s Churchyard, London.”

This long epistle, besides unfolding Clayton’s character, helps us to a better understanding of the position and practices of the Oxford Methodists. The debtors in Bocardo, the prisoners in the Castle, and paupers in the streets were objects of their beneficent compassion. They had their schools for the children of the poor; and, in their mission of mercy, were about to visit the workhouse of St. Thomas’s. Early rising was a habit, and prayer for each other a daily practice. Constant communion was enforced; though the dogma of the real presence of the body and blood of Christ was, as yet at least, no article of their faith.

Wesley being absent, there was a lull in the storm of Methodist persecution; but this was of short duration. Within a month after the date of Clayton’s letter, poor William Morgan died; an event which furnished an occasion for a violent attack upon the Oxford brotherhood, in what was then one of the most literary and respectable papers published,—Fogg’s Weekly Journal. They were accused of mopishness, hypocrisy, censoriousness, enthusiasm, madness, and superstitious scruples. “Among their own party,” says the writer, “they pass for religious persons and men of extraordinary parts; but they have the misfortune to be taken by all who have ever been in their company, for madmen and fools.”

Hardly any evil is without a good. The virulence of Fogg’s Weekly Journal excited the curiosity of a gentleman who had no acquaintance with the Methodists, but who now sought an interview with them, and shortly after published an octavo pamphlet of thirty pages, entitled,—“The Oxford Methodists: Being some account of a Society of young Gentlemen, in that City, so denominated: setting forth their Rise, Views, and Designs.” In this first defence of Methodism ever published, the slanderous accusations cast upon Wesley and his friends were refuted; and the Methodists were described as follows:—

“There are three points to which these gentlemen think themselves obliged to adhere:—1. That of visiting and relieving the prisoners and the sick, and giving away Bibles, Common Prayer Books, and the ‘Whole Duty of Man’; and of explaining the Catechism to the children of poor families, and of dropping a shilling or so to such families where they deem it needful. 2. That of weekly communion. 3. That of observing strictly the fasts of the Church, which has caused some to call them ‘Supererogation Men.’”

To return to Clayton. About the time of the publication of this pamphlet (the beginning of 1733), Clayton removed to Manchester; where, during the ensuing summer, he was visited by Wesley, who, on Sunday, June 3rd, preached thrice in three different churches, namely, the Cathedral, and Salford, and St Anne’s churches. Whether these pulpits were obtained through Clayton’s influence, there is no evidence to show; but, remembering the odium connected with the name, it certainly is a curious fact, that in the populous and thriving town of Manchester, the Oxford Arch-Methodist was allowed to occupy so prominent a position.

When Clayton left Oxford, Clayton’s pupils left Methodism. Ten days after his visit to Manchester, Wesley wrote,—

“1733, June 13th.

“The effects of my last journey, I believe, will make me more cautious of staying any time from Oxford for the future. One of my pupils told me at my return, that he was more and more afraid of singularity; and another, that he had read an excellent piece of Mr. Locke’s, which had convinced him of the mischief of regarding authority. Our seven and twenty communicants at St. Mary’s were on Monday shrunk to five; and the day before, the last of Mr. Clayton’s pupils who continued with us, informed me that he did not design to meet us any more.”[24]

This was somewhat discouraging. Meanwhile, besides keeping two fast days every week, Clayton, and also Wesley, began to evince other High Church proclivities. Hence the following, sent to Wesley only a month after his visit to Manchester:—

“July, 1733.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—I have been thinking upon the two points which you proposed to my consideration in your last, and must acknowledge myself to be utterly unable to form any judgment upon them which will be serviceable to you.

“My own rule is to spend an hour every Friday in looking over my diary,[25] and observing the difference between it and the preceding week; after which, I examine the resolutions set down in the account of my last weekly examination, and inquire how I have kept them, and then see what others are necessary to be formed, which I write down at the end of my diary for every week, that so they may be materials for my subsequent examination.

“As to your question about Saturday,[26] can only answer it by giving an account how I spend it. I do not look upon it as a preparation for Sunday, but as a festival itself; and, therefore, I have continued festival prayer for the three primitive hours, and for morning and evening, from the Apostolical Constitutions, which, I think, I communicated to you whilst at Oxford. I look upon Friday as my preparation for the celebration of both the Sabbath and the Lord’s-day; the first of which I observe much like a common saint’s day, or as one of the inferior holidays of the Church. I bless God, I have generally contrived to have the Eucharist celebrated on Saturdays as well as other holidays, for the use of myself and the sick people whom I visit.

“Dr. Deacon[27] gives his humble service to you, and lets you know that the worship and discipline of the primitive Christians have taken up so much of his time, that he has never read the Fathers with a particular view to their moral doctrines, and therefore cannot furnish you with the testimonies you want out of his collection. However, if you will give me a month’s time, I will try what I can do for you. I have made some progress in the earliest authors, and should have made more had I not been interrupted; first, with the public ceremony of the bishop’s triennial visitation; and, secondly, with the blessing of a visit which the truly primitive Bishop of Man made to our town; with both which affairs the clergy have been almost wholly taken up for a week.

“I was at Dr. Deacon’s when your letter came to hand; and we had a deal of talk about your scheme of avowing yourselves a society, and fixing upon a set of rules. The doctor seemed to think you had better let it alone; for to what end would it serve? It would be an additional tie upon yourselves, and perhaps a snare for the consciences of those weak brethren that might chance to come among you. Observing the Stations[28] and weekly communion are duties which stand upon a much higher footing than a rule of a Society; and they, who can set aside the command of God and the authority of His Church, will hardly, I doubt, be tied by the rules of a private Society.

“As to the mixture, Mr. Colly told me he would assure me it was constantly used at Christ Church. However, if you have reason to doubt it, I would have you to inquire; but I cannot think the want of it a reason for not communicating. If I could receive where the mixture was used, I would; and, therefore, I used to prefer the Castle to Christ Church; but, if not, I should not think myself any further concerned in the matter than as it might be some way or other in my power to get it restored.[29]

“Pray be so kind as to call on Mr. Hollins, head of our college, for four pictures of mine, namely, ‘Whitechapel Altar-piece,’ ‘Mary Magdalene,’ and our two founders; and get them sent up, by any convenient opportunity, to Mr. Rivington, who will send them down to me.

“My best respects attend your brother. I must beg the favour of him to give himself the trouble of writing out the hymns to ‘God the Father and God the Son,’ for me. A person of quality, Lady Catherine Gray, borrowed mine, and has lost them.

“I am, dear sir, your most affectionate friend and servant,

“J. Clayton.”

This is an important letter, not only as exhibiting the religious earnestness, but also the high churchism of the Oxford Methodists. The following, which was written two months later, is likewise full of interest. It was addressed, like the former one, “to the Rev. Mr. Wesley, Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxon.”

“Manchester, September 10, 1733.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—I was last week at Dr. Lever’s, where I but narrowly missed of seeing Mr. Brooke, of our college, who came the evening after I left Alkrington. I saw Dr. Lever to-day, who joins with me in sincere respects to your brother and yourself. His new dignity and his being put in Commission of the Peace, have, at present, quite unfitted him for serious talk; and, therefore, I must wait for a more favourable opportunity of pressing those virtues, which you first convinced him of the necessity of.

“Dr. Deacon tells me, that, he had no view in fixing the Psalms for common days; but, after reading your letter, is convinced of the expediency of serving any of those three ends you mention. The feasts and the fasts were the days he principally regarded; but he would take it as a favour from you if you would communicate to me any improvements you may possibly make in it. He thinks your third rule would be most expedient,—namely, to put together such psalms as best explain and illustrate each other. And he knows not but that on this scheme the proper psalms for festivals and fasts may be more advantageously fixed, by transposing some from the first, second, and other Sundays, etc., to those which have psalms which better answer them. He will consider this point as soon as he has leisure, but desires, in the meantime, that you would let us know your thoughts upon the matter, because his order for reading the Psalter is likely soon to see the light, being to be published with a collection of Primitive Devotions, both public and private, which is even now in the press.[30]

“Poor Miss Potter![31] I wonder not that she is fallen. Where humility is not the foundation, the superstructure cannot be good. And, yet, I am sorry to hear the tidings of her, especially that she has a great man for her confessor, who dissuades her from constant communion. I am sure, she has great occasion to use all the means of grace, which Providence provides for her, and hope that God will in time open her eyes to see the great need she has of help from above. I would not persuade you to leave off reading with her. Who knows whether you may not raise her again to the eminence from which she has fallen? At least, though she neglect the weightier matters of the law, yet keep up in her that reverend respect she bears it, even by the tithing of ‘mint, anise, and cummin.’

“As to reading the ancients, I fancy ‘Cotelerii[32] Biblioth. Patrum Apostol.’ would be the best book to begin with; for, though I will not say, that, all the works there contained are genuine, yet I dare avow them to be very ancient, and to contain the primitive doctrine and discipline of the Church, though published under feigned names. You will find a dissertation upon every work, which contains the several testimonies of Fathers and Councils, whereby the authority is confirmed; and, according to the evidence produced, you must judge of the authenticity of the several pieces. The Epistles of St. Clement are universally owned to be his; and so are the smaller Epistles of St. Ignatius; and, indeed, I think, Whiston, in his ‘Primitive Christianity,’ has urged such arguments in defence of the larger as can never be answered. St. Barnabas’s Epistle, and Hermas’s Pastor are works of the Apostolic age, as may be proved by the internal characters both of language and doctrine, whether they be the works of the venerable authors they are ascribed to or not. The Apostolical Canons are learnedly defended by Bishop Beveridge, and they sufficiently vindicate the Constitutions.[33] The Recognitions[34] of Clement are generally reckoned the most modern piece in these two volumes, but they are really a most admirable work.

“And now for the last page of your letter. I would answer it; and, yet, for my unworthiness, I dare not,—for my ignorance, I cannot. How shall I direct my instructor in the school of Christ? Or teach you, who am but a babe in religion? However, I must be free to tell you my sentiments of what you inquire about. On Wednesday and Friday, I have, for some time, used the Office for Passion week out of ‘Spinckes’[35] Devotions,’ and bless God for it. I found it very useful to excite in me that love of God, and sorrow for having offended Him, which makes up the first great branch of repentance. You know it consists of meditations on our Saviour’s life, all the meditations being joined with proper devotions. I could only wish, I was provided with two such Offices, one for Wednesday, and the other for Friday.

“Refer your last question to Mr. Law. I dare not give directions for spending that time which I consume in bed, nor teach you, who rise at four, when I indulge myself in sleep till five.

“Dear Sir, pray for me that I may press forward in the paths of perfection, and, at length, attain the land of everlasting life. Adieu!

“John Clayton.”

“I believe you will see a young gentleman of my acquaintance, who is a very pious man, but who greatly stands in need of Christian prudence to direct him. In particular, with regard to his conduct towards his parents, his religion sometimes seems to savour of self. Will you instruct and save him?”

These letters are long, perhaps also dry and tedious; but they are useful in casting considerable light on Oxford Methodism. We learn, that the godly brotherhood, though unevangelical, were, in the highest degree, conscientious and devout. In this respect, they put to shame, not only the great bulk of professing Christians, but, many who, at the present day, are known by the name of Methodists. Doubtless, they sought salvation by the practice of piety and good works; but the piety and good works themselves are not to be censured, but commended. Self-examination, prayer, sacramental attendance, fasting, diligence, kindness to the poor, deep concern for the conversion of sinners, and early rising, are not things of slight importance; but deserve far more practical recognition than what they get.

As to the special religious observance of saint days and of the Jewish Sabbath; and the sacred adoption of ecclesiastical canons and decretals, opinions will differ; but most Methodists will concur in the Methodist Preachers’ opinions, as stated by Wesley himself, in 1755:

“They think the Decretals are the very dregs of Popery; and that the Canons of 1603, are as grossly wicked as absurd. They think—1. That, the spirit which they breathe is, throughout, truly Popish and anti-Christian. 2. That, nothing can be more diabolical than the ipso facto excommunication so often denounced therein. 3. That, the whole method of executing these Canons, the process used in our Spiritual Courts, is too bad to be tolerated (not in a Christian, but) in a Mahometan or Pagan nation.”[36]

Dr. Deacon, the non-juring clergyman, was Clayton’s bosom friend, and Wesley’s chosen counsellor. William Law, another non-juror, was consulted as their guide. Mr. Spinckes’ volume, made up of extracts from the works of the most eminent of the high-church party, was one of their books of devotion. Under such circumstances, it is not surprising to find them plunging into the authentic and unauthentic writings of the Christian Fathers; listening to Apostolical and other Canons as to the voice of oracles; displaying ridiculous anxiety about sacramental wine being mixed with water; and assuming an arrogant willingness to become auricular confessors. Up to the time of Clayton’s admission among the Oxford Methodists, we find none of these proclivities. The Bible had been their sole supreme authority in faith and morals; and, hence, though their views of evangelical truth were unquestionably defective, their lives were free from the practice of popish follies. Now it began to be otherwise. Some of the young men were priests; and priests, according to the Canons of the Church, were invested with the terrible prerogatives of enforcing auricular confession, of pronouncing divine absolution, and of administering the body and blood of the blessed Jesus! “Poor Miss Potter” had a confessor, who, though a great man, was, evidently in Clayton’s estimation, heretical. Emily Wesley indignantly and righteously refused all confessors, her brother not excepted. Well would it be if the priests of the present day, who “creep into houses, and lead captive silly women,” were answered, as this noble-minded young lady answered Wesley, the Arch-Methodist. She writes:—

“To open the state of my soul to you, or any of our clergy, is what I have no inclination to at present; and, I believe, I never shall. I shall not put my conscience under the direction of mortal man, frail as myself. To my own Master I stand or fall. Nay, I scruple not to say, that all such desire in you, or any other ecclesiastic, seems to me like church tyranny, and assuming to yourselves a dominion over your fellow-creatures, which was never designed you by God.... I farther own, that, I do not hold frequent communion necessary to salvation, nor a means of Christian perfection. But do not mistake my meaning: I only think communing every Sunday, or very frequently, lessens our veneration for that sacred ordinance; and, consequently, our profiting by it.”

This was a sensible rebuke of priestly pretensions.

Clayton was young, only twenty-four; but, besides his scholarship, he was evidently a man of extensive reading. As the son of a bookseller, he had had the opportunity of gratifying literary cravings from his earliest days. He was a man of energy; and, though he reproaches himself for his sluggishness in not rising earlier than at five o’clock, he was exemplary for his diligence. All this had already made him a man of mark. In this very year, 1733, he was appointed to preach the ordination sermon in Manchester cathedral; and was so ardent in the enforcement of the rubrics of the Church, and so successful in his ministerial and pastoral office as to bring seventy old people, all of them above sixty years of age, to be confirmed by the bishop in Salford church.[37]

Three years later, he was selected to occupy another important post. Darcy Lever, Esq., LL.D., has been already mentioned as one of the friends of Clayton and of the two Wesleys. This gentleman, being appointed, in 1736, to fill the distinguished office of High Sheriff of Lancashire, made Clayton his chaplain. In such a capacity, Clayton had to preach at the Lancaster assizes; and chose for his text, the words,—“He beareth not the sword in vain; for he is the minister of God, a revenger, to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil” (Rom. xiii. 4). This was a ticklish subject for so young a man; but the chaplain was not without courage; and gave utterance to sentiments, which, at the present day, would scarcely be popular. The discourse was printed, and the title will suggest an idea of the preacher’s faithfulness. “The Necessity of duly executing the Laws against Immorality and Profaneness: Set forth in a Sermon, preached at the Assizes held at Lancaster, before the Honourable Sir Lawrence Carter, one of the Barons of his Majesty’s Court of Exchequer. By John Clayton, A.M. late of Brazenose College, Oxon. Published at the request of the High Sheriff, and the Gentlemen of the Grand Jury. London. 1736.” 8vo, 29 pp. Two or three extracts may be useful, as serving to illustrate Clayton’s views and style, and also the alarming wickedness of the nation.

“If drunkards, swearers, and debauchers were constantly brought to justice, it would doubtless lessen the number of criminals, and abate the commonness of the vices. Many a poor family would be rescued from beggary and starving, were the drunken, idle master of it properly corrected. Besides, this strict execution of the penal laws against these lesser crimes, would be a most probable means of preserving us from those more dreadful vices of perjury, robbery, and murder; and would make sanguinary laws less needful, and capital punishments less frequent; for experience teaches us that vice, as well as virtue, is of a progressive nature” (p. 15).

Again,—