OTHER OXFORD METHODISTS.

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

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

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

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

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 The following, hitherto unpublished, letter affords ample evidence of this.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

“Pembroke College,September 3, 1736.“Reverend and dear Sir,—Your kind concern and repeated endeavours for my spiritual good, while at Oxford, will not suffer me to think, that, you have utterly lost all remembrance of me, though you have given me no testimony of your affection since your leaving England. What shall I conjecture this silence to be owing to? I will not inquire; but rather take it as a providential punishment and scourge, for my slow and slender proficiency under the blessed means I enjoyed of your’s, and your dear brother’s conversation.“Too, too late, alas! do I see how dreadfully I was wanting to myself in not heartily embracing so glorious an opportunity of laying in a stock of spiritual courage, sufficient to have carried me victoriously on through a host of enemies. How does my base ingratitude to my Heavenly Benefactor, like a frightful spectre, present itself before me, for rejecting those kind offers of health and salvation! And for not disengaging myself from that bane of our spiritual progress,—the fear of the world,—which was always as fetters upon my feet, and manacles on my hands! O! through what a waste of uncomfortable, barren, and dry ground,—through what a wilderness of sorrows, perplexities, and distress, have I not been led, under the conduct of this delusive spirit; when the holy and loving Spirit of God would have led me into pleasant pastures, and refreshed my thirsty soul with the waters of comfort, and conducted me into those paths, which are pleasantness and peace. But, blessed be God! for the sense of these things, though, indeed, not till driven to it, by the pungency of the affliction, by the misery and torment of a divided state of heart, and the perpetual conflicts I endured. Blessed be the most high God! I am once again, I trust, in the strait and narrow way, that leadeth to the kingdom of heaven; from which that I may never stir a foot, till the cord of life is loosed, I dare say, you will not cease earnestly to request at the throne of grace.“I am sorry, I deferred writing till it was too late to say more; though I cannot help telling you, before I conclude, that, I sit every evening with Mr. Hervey,—that great champion of the Lord of Hosts; and, that, I read, five times a week, to a Religious Society, in St. Ebbs’ parish.“Dear Sir, God Almighty prosper all your endeavours for the good of souls! Depend upon it, in due time, you will reap, and that abundantly,if you faint not. My prayers are with you. O! that my body was there too, that, I might make up what I have lost, under such shining examples. Do, dear Sir, write me a long letter, by the first opportunity. Adieu! God and the Angels be with you!“I am yours, my dear Brother, sincerely in Christ,“W. Chapman.“My Lady Cocks and sisters are now in Oxford; and they desire their best services to you, and wish you good luck in the name of the Lord.”

“Pembroke College,September 3, 1736.

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

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

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

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

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

“W. Chapman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“1738. Tuesday, March 14. I set out,” from Oxford, “for Manchester, with Mr. Kinchin, Fellow of Corpus Christi, and Mr. Fox, late a prisoner in the city prison. Between five and six, we called at Chapel-on-the-Heath; where lived a poor man, sometime prisoner in the castle of Oxford. He was not at home; but his wife came to us, to whom Mr. Kinchin spoke a few words, which so melted her heart, that she burst out into tears, and we went on rejoicing and praising God.“About eight, it being rainy and very dark, we lost our way; but, before nine, came to Shipston, having rode over, I know not how, a narrow foot-bridge, which lay across a deep ditch near the town. After supper, I read prayers to the people of the inn, and explained the Second Lesson; I hope not in vain.”

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

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

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

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

“In the evening, we came to Stafford. The mistress of the house joined with us in family prayer. The next morning, one of the servants appeared deeply affected, as did the ostler, before we went. Soon after breakfast, stepping into the stable, I spake a few words to those who were there. A stranger, who heard me, said, ‘Sir, I wish I was to travel with you;’ and, when I went into the house, followed me, and began abruptly, ‘Sir, I believe you are a good man, and I come to tell you a little of my life.’ The tears stood in his eyes all the time he spoke; and we hoped not a word which was said to him was lost.“At Newcastle, whither we came about ten, some, to whom we spoke at our inn, were very attentive; but a gay young woman waited on us, quite unconverted: however, we spoke on. When we went away, she fixed her eyes, and neither moved nor said one word, but appeared as much astonished as if she had seen one risen from the dead.“Coming to Holms-Chapel about three, we were surprised at being shown into a room where a cloth and plates were laid. Soon after, two men came in to dinner. Mr. Kinchin told them, if they pleased, that gentleman would ask a blessing for them. They stared, and, as it were, consented; but sat still while I did it, one of them with his hat on. We began to speak on turning to God, and went on, though they appeared utterly regardless. After a while, their countenances changed, and one of them stole off his hat, and, laying it down behind him, said, all we said was true; but he had been a grievous sinner, and not considered it as he ought; but he was resolved, with God’s help, now to turn to Him in earnest. We exhorted him and his companion, who now likewise drank in every word, to cry mightily to God, that, He would ‘send them help from His holy place.’“Being faint in the evening, I called at Altrincham, and there lit upon a Quaker, well skilled in, and therefore, as I soon found, sufficiently fondof controversy. After an hour spent therein, perhaps not in vain, I advised him to dispute as little as possible; but rather follow after holiness, and walk humbly with his God.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Early in the morning, we left Manchester, taking with us Mr. Kinchin’s brother, for whom we came, to be entered at Oxford. We were fully determined to lose no opportunity of awakening, instructing, or exhorting, any whom we might meet with on our journey. At Knutsford, where we first stopped, all we spake to thankfully received the word of exhortation. But, at Talk-on-the-Hill, where we dined, she with whom we were was so much of a gentlewoman, that, for near an hour, our labour seemed to be in vain. However, we spoke on. Upon a sudden, she looked as one just awakened out of sleep. Every word sunk into her heart. Nor have I seen so entire a change, both in the eyes, face, and manner of speaking, of any one in so short a time.“About five, Mr. Kinchin riding by a man and woman double-horsed, the man said, ‘Sir, you ought to thank God it is a fair day; for, if it rained, you would be sadly dirty with your little horse.’ Mr. Kinchin answered, ‘True; and we ought to thank God for our life, and health, and food, and raiment, and all things.’ He then rode on, Mr. Fox following; the man said, ‘Sir, my mistress would be glad to have some more talk with that gentleman.’ We stayed, and when they came up began to search one another’s hearts. They came to us again in the evening, at our inn at Stone, where I explained both to them and many of their acquaintance, who were come together, that great truth,—godliness hath the promise both of this life, and of that which is to come.“Tuesday, March 21. Between nine and ten, we came to Hedgeford. Just then, one was giving an account of a young woman, who had dropped down dead there the day before. This gave us a fair occasion to exhort all that were present, ‘so to number’ their ‘days,’ that, they might apply their ‘hearts unto wisdom.’“In the afternoon, one overtook us, whom we soon found more inclined to speak than to hear. However, we spoke, and spared not. In the evening, we overtook a young man, a Quaker, who afterwards came to us, to our inn at Henley, whither he sent for the rest of his family, to join with us in prayer; to which I added, as usual, the exposition of the Second Lesson. Our other companion went with us a mile or two in the morning; and then not only spoke less than the day before, but took in good part a serious caution against talkativeness and vanity.“An hour after, we were overtook by an elderly gentleman, who said he was going to enter his son at Oxford. We asked, ‘At what college?’ He said, he did not know; having no acquaintance there on whose recommendation he could depend. After some conversation, he expressed a deep sense of the providence of God; and told us, he knew God had cast us in his way, in answer to his prayer. In the evening, we reached Oxford, rejoicing in our having received so many fresh instances of that great truth, ‘In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.’”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May 2, 1738.“Rev. and dear Sir,—My Lord and my God has made His servant a minister of the Gospel of His Son. He has committed to my care many immortal souls. And I am but a little child. I know not how to go out, or come in. Pray, therefore, earnestly for me, that, God would give His servant an understanding heart, to lead and instruct His people; that, I may discern between what is good and bad; for who is able to walk discreetly and uprightly before such a worldly-minded and refractory people? I beg the prayers and directions of my friends.“My sister is much mended in health. She has received much benefit from you, under God, as to her spiritual concerns.“Pray, write speedily to your sincere friend and servant,“C. Kinchin.”[281]

“May 2, 1738.

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

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

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

“C. Kinchin.”[281]

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dummer,October 9, 1739.“My dear Brother,—I am just setting out for Oxford, and thence, probably, for London, in order to print my sermon, on the Necessity and Work of the New Birth. I have revised and enlarged it, have made a Preface, and also written a Dedication to the vice-chancellor, Dr. Mather, the Heads of Houses, with their Societies. Mr. Hutchins has perused the whole. I shall have him at Dummer while I am absent. I asked the vice-Chancellor for the use of the University press; but his answer was, that, he could not consent to it. I have written him a letter, desiring him to peruse the discourse, before he absolutely refuses the press; but he has made no reply. I propose, therefore, to wait upon him at Oxford, to know whether he received my letter. I also intend to ask Mr. Gambold and Mr. Wills to peruse my sermon. If I had any opportunity, I would be glad for you to see it too. I desire your prayers, and the prayers of your friends around you, that, God will bless my journey, and my design in publishing the discourse.“We all join in love to you, and all around you; and constantly pray for you, and desire your prayers. If you write within a week, direct to Mr. Fox’s.“Your unworthy brother,“C. Kinchin.”

“Dummer,October 9, 1739.

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

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

“Your unworthy brother,

“C. Kinchin.”

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

“1742. January 4. This day, I understand, poor Charles Kinchin died.“Cui pudor, et justitia soror,Incorrupta fides, nudaque veritas,Quando ullum invenient parem?”

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

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

“Cui pudor, et justitia soror,

Incorrupta fides, nudaque veritas,

Quando ullum invenient parem?”

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

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

“1720. December 8. Richard Hutchins, B.A., was admitted to the rights and privileges of a Fellow of Lincoln College.”“1739. November 6. Mr. Hutchins was chosen Sub-Rector.”“1742. November 6. Mr. Hutchins was chosen Bursar and Librarian.”“1755. July 9. Richard Hutchins, D.D., Fellow in one of the Founder’s Fellowships for the Diocese of Lincoln, was, on this day, unanimously elected Rector of this College. And straightway a letter was drawn up, in the very words prescribed by the College Statutes, in order to its being sent to the Lord Bishop of Lincoln, sealed with the college seal, and subscribed by all the electors present, certifying their said election to his lordship, and praying him to admit to the Rectorship of this College the said Richard Hutchins, Sub-Rector.”“Dr. Richard Hutchins, our late worthy Rector, departed this life, on Friday, 10th August, 1781.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My father walked out of doors to the very last, even in the morning of the day he died. I said to him, ‘I hope, sir, your confidence is inthe Lord Jesus Christ.’ He answered, ‘Entirely. I have no hope or confidence but in Him only. I am very sensible, that, I am, in myself, a poor, guilty, helpless sinner before God. I find, I have been guilty of every sin. There is not a commandment which I have not broken; but the Lord Jesus Christ is my Saviour. His blood is sufficient for me. I rest upon His promises, and, (laying his head upon his breast and looking up) ‘I feel the Spirit of God now supporting me.’“Two of his twelve children had not arrived; but, fearing his understanding might begin to fail, I asked him if he would like my mother and the rest of his children to be called up, that we might pray together, and receive his blessing. He immediately assented, and desired me to pray. The scene was very affecting. He seemed to be very fervent; and, when the prayer was over, he tenderly and affectionately saluted us all, and invoked the blessing of God in Christ Jesus. Soon after, he spoke to me about the place in the churchyard, where he wished his body to be laid, and then said, ‘Oh, son, I now feel the vanity of life. We often talk in health about its emptiness; but this is the trying hour. I now experience it. My God! what a condition should I now be in, if the business of eternity was unbegun!’ And, then, he proceeded to speak of Christ and the happiness of heaven. His voice faltered; but, at one time, I heard him say ‘Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly;’ and, at another, ‘I have finished my course, I have fought the good fight. Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me in that day.’ He next addressed his children, and said, ‘My dear children, whatever you have seen faulty in me, be careful to avoid; if you have seen anything praiseworthy, that imitate and pursue. But, oh! mind the one thing needful. Let God be your portion. Seek unto Him through the gracious Redeemer, and doubt not but He will provide for you what is necessary in this world. My dear wife, trust in God. O, my God, look down upon this my family, and let Thy blessing rest upon them! Guide them by Thy blessed Spirit!’“He continued praying, in a kind of feeble murmur until about the three last breaths he drew; and then, at half-past four o’clock, on Monday afternoon, July 11, 1774, expired, aged sixty-one years, leaving behind him a wife and twelve children.“His last words to one of his daughters were, ‘My love, would you recall me from happiness?’”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God has given me two fair escapes for life within these few weeks. The first was when my old nag fell with me, trailed me in the stirrups by one foot, and trod upon the other, yet never hurt me.“The other escape was much greater. On Monday week, at Burringham Ferry, we were driven down with a fierce stream and wind, and fell foul against a keel. Two of our horses were pitched overboard, and the boat was filled with water. I was just preparing to swim for life” (he was then sixty-six years of age), “when John Whitelamb’s long legs and arms swarmed up into the keel, and lugged me in after him. My mare was swimming a quarter of an hour; but, at last, we all got safe to land. Help to praise Him who saves both man and beast.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From earliest dawn of life, through Thee alone,The saint sublime, the finished Christian shone;Yet would not grace one grain of pride allow,Or cry, ‘Stand off, I’m holier than thou!’With business or devotion never cloyed,No moment of thy time passed unemployed,Nor was thy form unfair, (though Heaven confinedTo scanty limits thy exalted mind).”“Witness the brow, so faultless, open, clear,That none could ask if honesty was there:Witness the taintless lustre of thy skin,Bright emblem of the brighter soul within:That soul, which, easy, unaffected, mild,Through jetty eyes, with cheerful sweetness smiled.But, oh! could fancy reach, or language speakThe living beauties of thy lip and cheek,Where nature’s pencil, leaving art no room,Touched to a miracle the vernal bloom,Lost though thou art inStella’sfaithful line,Thy face, immortal as thy fame, should shine.”

“From earliest dawn of life, through Thee alone,

The saint sublime, the finished Christian shone;

Yet would not grace one grain of pride allow,

Or cry, ‘Stand off, I’m holier than thou!’

With business or devotion never cloyed,

No moment of thy time passed unemployed,

Nor was thy form unfair, (though Heaven confined

To scanty limits thy exalted mind).”

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

“Witness the brow, so faultless, open, clear,

That none could ask if honesty was there:

Witness the taintless lustre of thy skin,

Bright emblem of the brighter soul within:

That soul, which, easy, unaffected, mild,

Through jetty eyes, with cheerful sweetness smiled.

But, oh! could fancy reach, or language speak

The living beauties of thy lip and cheek,

Where nature’s pencil, leaving art no room,

Touched to a miracle the vernal bloom,

Lost though thou art inStella’sfaithful line,

Thy face, immortal as thy fame, should shine.”

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

“January 14, 1734.“My Lord,—The small rectory of Wroot, in the diocese and county of Lincoln, is in the gift of the Lord Chancellor, and, more than seven years since, was conferred on Samuel Wesley, rector of Epworth. It lies in our low levels, and is often overflowed. During the time I have had it, the people have lost the fruits of the earth to that degree, that it has hardly brought me £50 per annum,omnibus annis; and, some years, not enough to pay my curate there his salary of £30 a year.“This living, by your lordship’s permission and favour, I would gladly resign to one Mr. John Whitelamb, born in the neighbourhood of Wroot, where his father and grandfather lived; when I took him from among the scholars of a charity school (founded by one Mr. Travers, an attorney), brought him to my house, and educated him there, where he was my amanuensis for four years, in transcribing my ‘Dissertations on the Book of Job,’ now well advanced in the press; and was employed in drawing my maps and figures for it, as well as we could by the light of nature. After this, I sent him to Oxford, to my son John, Fellow of Lincoln College; under whom he made such proficiency, that he was, the last summer, admitted, by the Bishop of Oxford, into deacon’s orders, and became my curate at Epworth, while I came up to town to expedite the printing of my book.“Since then, I gave my consent to his marrying one of my seven daughters, and they are married accordingly; and, though I can spare little more with her, yet I would gladly give them a little glebe land at Wroot, where, I am sure, they will not want springs of water. Buttheylove the place, though I can get nobody else to reside on it.“If I do not flatter myself, he is indeed a valuable person, of uncommon brightness, learning, piety, and indefatigable industry; always loyal to the king, zealous for the Church, and friendly to our dissenting brethren. For the truth of this character I will be answerable to God and man.“If, therefore, your lordship will grant me the favour to let me resign my living unto him, and please to confer it on him, I shall always remain, your lordship’s most bounden, most grateful, and most obedient servant,“Samuel Wesley.”

“January 14, 1734.

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

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

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

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

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

“Samuel Wesley.”

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

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

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

“The house is good, and strong, and clean,

Though there no battlements are seen,

But humble roof of thatch, I ween,

Low rooms from rain to cover.

Where, safe from poverty, (sore ill!)

All may live happy if they will,

As any that St. James’s fill,

The Escurial, or the Louvre.”

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

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