“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.”
“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 themstart; 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.”
“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 mustsuffer 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 youwill 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.”
“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 mustsuffer 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 youwill 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 forpublicusefulness; and Robert Kirkham and Charles Morgan drift away into the great ocean of existence, and leave no track behind them.