THEOXFORD METHODISTS.

THEOXFORD METHODISTS.THE FIRST OF THE OXFORD METHODISTS.

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, andbrother I wish I might write,“Robert Kirkham.”

“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 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 sightVeil’d with thick darkness in the land of lightNor 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 conveysThe 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 extremesOf empty outside, or enthusiast dreams;Whims of Molinos, lost in rapture’s mist,Or Quaker, late-reforming Quietist.”[3]

“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 theGazette, 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 withyou. 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.”

“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 theGazette, 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 withyou. 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 nowmiles 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 ofThe 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]

“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 theother 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 andpast 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!”

“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 followingletter, 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.”

“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, ormuch 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]

“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 alreadymentioned, 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.”

“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.

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.”

“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 thetuition 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.”

“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 toCharles 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 thingstrue:—as, that we imagine it is our bounden dutyto 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 arefalse, 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 takereligion 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 tothisexcess 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 askthem,—askHimwho 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]

“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 thingstrue:—as, that we imagine it is our bounden dutyto 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 arefalse, 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 takereligion 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 tothisexcess 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 askthem,—askHimwho 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:—

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