In consequence of a respectable young tradesman, in the Borough, Mr. E— B—, who was one of his hearers, becoming disgusted with his hypocrisy, and some attempts he had made upon him, leaving him altogether, he wrote the following beastly epistles:—
Had this wretch received a classical education, one might suppose he had been writing a paraphrase on Virgil’s eclogue, beginning with the line—FormasumPastor CorydonArdebat Alexin.
Copy of a letter, written by the Rev. John Church, Minister of the Obelisk-Chapel, Blackfriars’-Road, to Mr. E— B—, Rodney-Street, Kent-Street, Borough, dated March 3, 1809.
“Dear Ned,“May the best blessings be yours in life and in death, while the sweet sensations of real genuine disinterested friendship rules every power of your mind, body, and soul. I can only say I wish you as much captivated with sincere friendship as I am; but we all know our own feelings best. Friendship, those best of names,—affection, those sweetest power,—like some powerful charm that overcomes the mind. I could write much on this subject, but dare not trust you with what I could say, much as I esteem you.—You would consider it unmanly and quite effeminate; and having already proved what human nature is, I must conceal even these emotions of love which I feel. I wish I had the honour of being loved by you as much and in as great a degree as I do you. Sometimes the painful thought of a separation overpowers me; many are now trying at it; but, last night, I told the persons that called on me that, let them insinuate what they would, I would never sacrifice my dear Ned to the shrine of any other friend on earth; and that them you did not like, him should have none of my company at all. I find, dear Ned, many are using all their power to part us; but I hope it will prove in vain on your side: the effect all this has upon me is to make me love you ten times more than ever. I wish opposition may have the same effect upon you in this particular; but I fear not. However, I am confident if you loveme now, or any other time, my heart will ever be sat upon you, nor can I forget you till death. Your leaving of me will break my heart,—bring down my poor mind with sorrow to the grave, and wring from my eyes the briny tears, while my busy meddling memory will call to remembrance the few pleasant hours we spent together. I picture to my imagination the affecting scene, the painful thought. I must close the affecting subject; ’tis more than my feelings are able to bear.—My heart is full, my mind is sunk.—I shall be better when I have vented out my grief. Stand fast, my dearest Ned, to me: I shall to you whether you do to me or no; and may we be pardoned, justified, and brought more to the knowledge of Christ. O help me to sing—When thou, my righteous judge, shall comeTo fetch thy ransom’d people home,May I among them stand;Let such a worthless worm as I,That sometimes am afraid to die,Be found at thy right hand.I love to be among them now,Before thy gracious feet to bow,Though vilest of them all;But, can I bear the piercing thought,What if my name should be left out,When thou for them should call.Learn these two verses by heart, and then I will write two more, as they are expressions of mind, fears, sensations, and desires.—I must close, I long to see your dear face again, I long for Sunday morning, till then God bless you.I remain unalterably thy dear,thy loving friend.J.Church.”
“Dear Ned,
“May the best blessings be yours in life and in death, while the sweet sensations of real genuine disinterested friendship rules every power of your mind, body, and soul. I can only say I wish you as much captivated with sincere friendship as I am; but we all know our own feelings best. Friendship, those best of names,—affection, those sweetest power,—like some powerful charm that overcomes the mind. I could write much on this subject, but dare not trust you with what I could say, much as I esteem you.—You would consider it unmanly and quite effeminate; and having already proved what human nature is, I must conceal even these emotions of love which I feel. I wish I had the honour of being loved by you as much and in as great a degree as I do you. Sometimes the painful thought of a separation overpowers me; many are now trying at it; but, last night, I told the persons that called on me that, let them insinuate what they would, I would never sacrifice my dear Ned to the shrine of any other friend on earth; and that them you did not like, him should have none of my company at all. I find, dear Ned, many are using all their power to part us; but I hope it will prove in vain on your side: the effect all this has upon me is to make me love you ten times more than ever. I wish opposition may have the same effect upon you in this particular; but I fear not. However, I am confident if you loveme now, or any other time, my heart will ever be sat upon you, nor can I forget you till death. Your leaving of me will break my heart,—bring down my poor mind with sorrow to the grave, and wring from my eyes the briny tears, while my busy meddling memory will call to remembrance the few pleasant hours we spent together. I picture to my imagination the affecting scene, the painful thought. I must close the affecting subject; ’tis more than my feelings are able to bear.—My heart is full, my mind is sunk.—I shall be better when I have vented out my grief. Stand fast, my dearest Ned, to me: I shall to you whether you do to me or no; and may we be pardoned, justified, and brought more to the knowledge of Christ. O help me to sing—
When thou, my righteous judge, shall comeTo fetch thy ransom’d people home,May I among them stand;Let such a worthless worm as I,That sometimes am afraid to die,Be found at thy right hand.
I love to be among them now,Before thy gracious feet to bow,Though vilest of them all;But, can I bear the piercing thought,What if my name should be left out,When thou for them should call.
Learn these two verses by heart, and then I will write two more, as they are expressions of mind, fears, sensations, and desires.—I must close, I long to see your dear face again, I long for Sunday morning, till then God bless you.
I remain unalterably thy dear,thy loving friend.J.Church.”
Another letter was received by Mr. E— B— on the 15th of March, 1809, from Church, without a date, as follows:
“Dear Sir,“Is this thy kindness to thy once professed much loved friend, surely I never, never, did deserve such cruel treatment at your hands; whynot speak to me last night in James-Street when you heard me call, stop! stop! Ned! do, pray do; but cruel, cruel, Ned, deaf to all intreaties—O why was I permitted to pass the door of Mr. Gibbons when you and West were coming out. Why was I permitted to tramp up and down the New Cut after you; I only wanted to speak one bitter, heart-breaking, painful, distressing, word, farewell: I only wanted to pour my sorrows into your bosom, to shake hands with you once more, but I was denied this indulgence. I never, never, thought you would deceive me—O, what an unhappy man am I; the thing that I most feared is come upon me, no excuse can justify such apparent duplicity; O, my distress is great indeed. O my God! what shall I do? O Christ! O God! support me in this trying hour, what a night am I passing through; I cannot sleep, its near three o’clock; alas! sleep is departed, how great my grief, how bitter my sorrows, the loss of my character is nothing to the loss of one dearer to me than anything else. O let me give vent to tears; but I am too, too, much distressed to cry; O that I could. I feel this like a dagger; never, never, can I forgive the unhappy instrument of my distress in Charlotte-street. Why did my dear friend Edward deceive me? O how my mind was eased on Wednesday night; alas, how distressed on Thursday. I have lost my only bosom friend, nearest, dearest, friend, bosom from bosom torn, how horrid! Ah, dear Suffolk-court, never surely can I see you again. How the Philistines will triumph; there, so would we have it: how Ebeir, Calvin, Thompson, Edwards, Bridgman, all will rejoice, and I have lost my friend, my all in this world, except the other part of myself, my wife, and poor babes; never did I expect this from my dear E— B—. O for a calm mind, that I might sleep till day-light; butno, this I fear will be denied me. How can I bear the piercing thought, parted; a dreadful word, worst of sensations, the only indulgence, the only confident, the only faithful, the only kind and indulgent, sympathising, friend, to lose you. O what a stroke; O what a cut, what shall I do for matter on Sunday; O that I could get some one to preach for me; how can I lift up my head. O sir, if you have a grain of affection left for me, do intreat of God to support me; this is a worse affliction than the loss of my character nine months ago. A man cannot lose his character twice. O, I did think you knew better; I did think I had found one in you that I could not find elsewhere; but no, the first object presented to you, seen suddenly, gained your mind, gained your affections; and I, poor, unhappy, distressed, I, am left to deplore your loss. O for submission, but I am distressed; woe is me. O that I had never, never, known you, then I should never feel what I do; but I thank you for your company hitherto, I have enjoyed it four months exactly, but this is over for ever; miserable as I am, I wish you well for ever, for ever. I write in the bitterness of my soul which I feel. May you never be cursed with the feelings I possess as long as you live. What a day I have before me! I cannot go out of my house till Sunday morning. How can I conceal my grief from my dear wife?—how shall I hide it?—what shall I say?—I am miserable, nor can I surmount the shock at all. I have no friend to pour out my sorrows to now, I wish I had; I am sorry you are so easily duped by any to answer their purposes: my paper is full, my paper is full, my heart is worse; God help me! Lord God support me! What shall I do, dear God! O Lord have mercy on me! I must close; this comes from your ever loving, but distressed,J.Church.”
“Dear Sir,
“Is this thy kindness to thy once professed much loved friend, surely I never, never, did deserve such cruel treatment at your hands; whynot speak to me last night in James-Street when you heard me call, stop! stop! Ned! do, pray do; but cruel, cruel, Ned, deaf to all intreaties—O why was I permitted to pass the door of Mr. Gibbons when you and West were coming out. Why was I permitted to tramp up and down the New Cut after you; I only wanted to speak one bitter, heart-breaking, painful, distressing, word, farewell: I only wanted to pour my sorrows into your bosom, to shake hands with you once more, but I was denied this indulgence. I never, never, thought you would deceive me—O, what an unhappy man am I; the thing that I most feared is come upon me, no excuse can justify such apparent duplicity; O, my distress is great indeed. O my God! what shall I do? O Christ! O God! support me in this trying hour, what a night am I passing through; I cannot sleep, its near three o’clock; alas! sleep is departed, how great my grief, how bitter my sorrows, the loss of my character is nothing to the loss of one dearer to me than anything else. O let me give vent to tears; but I am too, too, much distressed to cry; O that I could. I feel this like a dagger; never, never, can I forgive the unhappy instrument of my distress in Charlotte-street. Why did my dear friend Edward deceive me? O how my mind was eased on Wednesday night; alas, how distressed on Thursday. I have lost my only bosom friend, nearest, dearest, friend, bosom from bosom torn, how horrid! Ah, dear Suffolk-court, never surely can I see you again. How the Philistines will triumph; there, so would we have it: how Ebeir, Calvin, Thompson, Edwards, Bridgman, all will rejoice, and I have lost my friend, my all in this world, except the other part of myself, my wife, and poor babes; never did I expect this from my dear E— B—. O for a calm mind, that I might sleep till day-light; butno, this I fear will be denied me. How can I bear the piercing thought, parted; a dreadful word, worst of sensations, the only indulgence, the only confident, the only faithful, the only kind and indulgent, sympathising, friend, to lose you. O what a stroke; O what a cut, what shall I do for matter on Sunday; O that I could get some one to preach for me; how can I lift up my head. O sir, if you have a grain of affection left for me, do intreat of God to support me; this is a worse affliction than the loss of my character nine months ago. A man cannot lose his character twice. O, I did think you knew better; I did think I had found one in you that I could not find elsewhere; but no, the first object presented to you, seen suddenly, gained your mind, gained your affections; and I, poor, unhappy, distressed, I, am left to deplore your loss. O for submission, but I am distressed; woe is me. O that I had never, never, known you, then I should never feel what I do; but I thank you for your company hitherto, I have enjoyed it four months exactly, but this is over for ever; miserable as I am, I wish you well for ever, for ever. I write in the bitterness of my soul which I feel. May you never be cursed with the feelings I possess as long as you live. What a day I have before me! I cannot go out of my house till Sunday morning. How can I conceal my grief from my dear wife?—how shall I hide it?—what shall I say?—I am miserable, nor can I surmount the shock at all. I have no friend to pour out my sorrows to now, I wish I had; I am sorry you are so easily duped by any to answer their purposes: my paper is full, my paper is full, my heart is worse; God help me! Lord God support me! What shall I do, dear God! O Lord have mercy on me! I must close; this comes from your ever loving, but distressed,
J.Church.”
In addition to the confession made to Mrs. Hunter, the following confessional letter from Church, was sent to the great surprise of the Rev. Mr. L—, two days after the offence had been committed. It appears that Church was but very slightly known to the above gentleman, in consequence of some money transactions having passed between them:—
Dear Sir—Surely upon the reception of this short note you will say, ah,Churchis like all the rest of the parsons, promise much and do little, yea nothing: to your note I can only with a pained heart replyI cannot indeed—I can scarcely write this note, my soul is too deeply pierced. About eight or nine years ago Dr. Draper left the church in the Borough and God opened Chapel-court for me, many attended and have been blest, now a singular providence, but a most distressing one, has occurred to take me shortly from my dear, dear family and beloved congregation. But God has sent Mr. L— to preach all the truth to my poor dispersed flock, at least so it appears to me, and I would do all the good to promote the success of Mr. L— that my poor people might not be starved till I return to them in peace, which may be many months. My heart is broken, my enemies have ruined me at last, and I shall never, never surmount it, an unpleasant affair happening at Vauxall, is added too, and I must take the consequences: no arm can help, relieve, or deliver, but the Lord’s, and I feel persuaded the Lord willnot: judge my feelings if you can. I shall secretly come and hear you, to get all the good I can to a heart deprest, disconsolate, and full of woe. Oh, the joy of my enemies! Oh the distress of my friends! Oh, my poor heart! Let a sigh go up to God for me when you can.Your’s, in the utmost distress,J. C.
Dear Sir—Surely upon the reception of this short note you will say, ah,Churchis like all the rest of the parsons, promise much and do little, yea nothing: to your note I can only with a pained heart replyI cannot indeed—I can scarcely write this note, my soul is too deeply pierced. About eight or nine years ago Dr. Draper left the church in the Borough and God opened Chapel-court for me, many attended and have been blest, now a singular providence, but a most distressing one, has occurred to take me shortly from my dear, dear family and beloved congregation. But God has sent Mr. L— to preach all the truth to my poor dispersed flock, at least so it appears to me, and I would do all the good to promote the success of Mr. L— that my poor people might not be starved till I return to them in peace, which may be many months. My heart is broken, my enemies have ruined me at last, and I shall never, never surmount it, an unpleasant affair happening at Vauxall, is added too, and I must take the consequences: no arm can help, relieve, or deliver, but the Lord’s, and I feel persuaded the Lord willnot: judge my feelings if you can. I shall secretly come and hear you, to get all the good I can to a heart deprest, disconsolate, and full of woe. Oh, the joy of my enemies! Oh the distress of my friends! Oh, my poor heart! Let a sigh go up to God for me when you can.
Your’s, in the utmost distress,
J. C.
The following bad character has been given of Church by Mr. and Mrs. Gee, of the New Cut, who keep a cake-shop, where he once lodged:—
“Mr Church, the minister, lodged at our house a year and a half, and left last year at Lady Day.“We were in hopes that we were about to have a godly praying minster in our house; and to be sure the first night he had somewhat like a prayer, and that once afterwards were the only times he ever went to family prayer in our house. Nor could they have any prayer, as he would be frequently out almost all hours of the night, and would lie in bed till ten in the morning. Several times he and his wife would have skirmishings and fightings between themselves, while the children would be left to run about the streets out of school hours, and allowed to keep company with children that would swear in our hearing most shockingly. His children were always left to be very dirty, and would be sent sometimes three or four times in a morning for spirituous liquors of all sorts. As for reading good books, or even the Bible, he scarce ever thought of it, but would spend a deal of his time in loose and vain talk, in walking about, and fawning upon young men, that was his chief delight.“Sundays and working days were all alike to them, for they would send out to buy liquors, and whatever else they wanted, on Sundays as well as other days.“The house would be frequently more like a playhouse (I might say a bawdy house) than a minister’s house, were a set of young people would come and behave more indecently than ought to be mentioned. Even one Sunday morning they made such an uproar as that they broke one of the windows, after that they would go with him to his chapel, and, after that, he would give the sacrament to such disorderly people, let their characters be ever so loose.“He was always ready to go fastenough out to dinner or supper where he could get good eating and drinking, but poor people might send to him from their sick bed times and times before he would come to them. Seeing so much of his inconsistencies and shocking filthiness in their rooms, (though they always paid their rent,) we were determined to give them warning to quit our house, and we do not think that a worse man or woman ever came into any house before, especially as Mr. Church pretended to preach the gospel; such hypocrites are much worse than others, and, besides this, we never heard a man tell lies so fast in all our lives. It is a great grief to us that ever we went to hear him preach, or suffered him to stop so long in our house.”George and Frances Gee.
“Mr Church, the minister, lodged at our house a year and a half, and left last year at Lady Day.
“We were in hopes that we were about to have a godly praying minster in our house; and to be sure the first night he had somewhat like a prayer, and that once afterwards were the only times he ever went to family prayer in our house. Nor could they have any prayer, as he would be frequently out almost all hours of the night, and would lie in bed till ten in the morning. Several times he and his wife would have skirmishings and fightings between themselves, while the children would be left to run about the streets out of school hours, and allowed to keep company with children that would swear in our hearing most shockingly. His children were always left to be very dirty, and would be sent sometimes three or four times in a morning for spirituous liquors of all sorts. As for reading good books, or even the Bible, he scarce ever thought of it, but would spend a deal of his time in loose and vain talk, in walking about, and fawning upon young men, that was his chief delight.
“Sundays and working days were all alike to them, for they would send out to buy liquors, and whatever else they wanted, on Sundays as well as other days.
“The house would be frequently more like a playhouse (I might say a bawdy house) than a minister’s house, were a set of young people would come and behave more indecently than ought to be mentioned. Even one Sunday morning they made such an uproar as that they broke one of the windows, after that they would go with him to his chapel, and, after that, he would give the sacrament to such disorderly people, let their characters be ever so loose.
“He was always ready to go fastenough out to dinner or supper where he could get good eating and drinking, but poor people might send to him from their sick bed times and times before he would come to them. Seeing so much of his inconsistencies and shocking filthiness in their rooms, (though they always paid their rent,) we were determined to give them warning to quit our house, and we do not think that a worse man or woman ever came into any house before, especially as Mr. Church pretended to preach the gospel; such hypocrites are much worse than others, and, besides this, we never heard a man tell lies so fast in all our lives. It is a great grief to us that ever we went to hear him preach, or suffered him to stop so long in our house.”
George and Frances Gee.
It appears from the testimony of George Tarrier, and James Russell, of Redcross-street; of Richard Jessop, of Castle-street; and William Williams of the Mint; that theRev. John Church, on the 16th of November, 1809, also attended at the funeral of Richard Oakden, a clerk in the Bank, who was hung before Newgate, for an abominable offence, on 14th November, 1809. Thispiousminister and his partizans returned to the Hat and Feathers, Gravel-lane, kept by a Mr. Richardson, where the funeral set out from, to partake of a jovial dinner. His conduct here, it seems, was beyond description.
It is averred, that his wife, upon hearing the infamy of his conduct took to drinking, to avoid reflection, which soon occasioned her death. But, within the last three months since, he has been charged with the above detestable offence, in order (we presume under the mask of hypocrisy,) to rescue, in some degree, his character from the public odium with which it had been marked, he has been induced to marry a respectable woman, who kept a seminary for young ladies at Hammersmith. The verdictof “Guilty” had been scarcely pronounced, when the relatives of the children, with the greatest promptitude possible, took them all away from the said school.
Some time previous to the commission of the offence for which Church has been at last convicted he made an attempt, in the open street, on the person of a poor Frenchman, who had him conveyed to the watchhouse, where a long examination took place, but the proof not being very conclusive, the affair was hushed up.
Since his conviction, Church has resided at the house ofa friend, wherehis followersare admitted to see him on producing a card signed by himself, on which are inscribed certain texts of scripture. Will this wretch never cease blaspheming the holy scriptures by his appropriation of them!
It may not be improper to state one of the tricks made use of to threw the prosecutor off his guard. A limb of the law, it appears, of theJewishpersuasion,gratuitouslyoffered to conduct the prosecution for the young man; but upon a refusal being given him, on account of Mr.Harmerbeing selected for that purpose, it was ultimately discovered that thisphilanthropicIsraelite had been exerting himself towards exculpating Church, with all the ingenuity he was master of in his defence, from the heinous offence alleged against him. The “laws delay” was resorted to, but only to put off the trial till the next assizes, but the expenses materially increased, as a means of deterring the prosecutor from proceeding. It is, however, lamentable to observe, that the charges in bringing such a wretch to justice, should amount to eighty or ninety pounds!
From the acknowledgement of this monster himself, the profits of thispreciousrecepticle produced him from £1000 to £1200 annually.
At length, this precious hypocrite, who has so long set all decency at defiance, by public preaching, notwithstanding his diabolical well known propensities, has been found guilty of the crime he has so long (and so numerously) been charged with. Much as it might be wished that such a monster, under the disguise of that sacred habit, which at all times is entitled to reverence, should be consigned with his crimes to oblivion. But such suppression would be doing a serious injury to public morals. Delicacy at all times ought to be a paramount consideration, but there are cases in which a great deal more injury both to morals and liberty may arise from the suppressionthan the exposure of indecencies. This we apprehend to be one of that sort, and great care has been taken to avoid entering into any disgusting particulars. It is due to the community at large that such a dangerous character should be exposed to society, and it is equally important to that sacred body, who can only rise or fall in public estimation from their good conduct.
He will be brought up the first day of next term to receive judgement in the Court of King’s Bench. Mr. Gurney we understand, although he so ably and eloquently defended the guilty monster, Church, undertook his cause with the greatest reluctance.
Since the publication of our third edition, we have received the following curious epistle, inprint, from the Rev. J. L. Garrett, whose name is mentioned by us, p.29and p.31. This letter, we understand, has been very industriously circulated amongst his friends and acquaintance. Although we cannot comply with the reverend gentleman’s request, to erase his name from our pages, as it does not appear that we have stated any thing materially incorrect, we will do him the justice to print his vindication of himself, a mode of proceeding which we think will serve the reverend gentleman’s interests more than any other, our work having so unprecedented a sale, that it must carry it into every channel necessary for the Reverend Professor of NaturalPhilosophy’s vindication, of whosereformationwe are truly happy to hear.
Letter addressed by the Rev.J. L.Garrett,Professor of Natural Philosophy,&c. to the Publisher of a Six-penny Pamphlet,intituled, “The Life and Trial ofMr.John Church.”
Dear Sir,
As bigotry, superstition, and misguided zeal, those dreadful sources of violence, wasting, and destruction, which once too often actuated both my tongue and pen, have now, through divine Grace, for several years, ceasedto form any trait in my deportment; you will, I trust, allow me the humble claim, of having that erased from your pamphlet, which a better use of my reason has so evidently erased from my conduct.
Rest assured, I most sincerely wish success to every laudable effort you can exert to suppress vice, but particularly vices so extremity disgraceful to human nature—but have the goodness, Sir, to understand that I never, in my life, was what your pamphlet calls me, a friend or acquaintance of the person you allude to, norneverhad any thingto do with him, but what wasforced on mebyhis own insinuations, which principally were carried on with some of my people in Lant-street while I was out of town.
I also remark that I had no hand in getting him into Banbury; and can only say, would to God that those things which drove him out had been followed by sincere repentance, then I think I should have been one of the first to have administered the consolation of the gospel; but as things are, I shall leave the detection and suppression of vice in abler hands than my own, with this prayer, that “That truly wretched man, may yet be brought with sincere repentance to the feet of Jesus, obtain mercy, and, under the influence and operation of the holy spirit, gain the completest mastery over a nature so awfully depraved, and thus prove that nothing is too hard for God.”
While I remain,
Your’s respectfully,J. L.Garrett.
Philosophical Museum,Mile End, Aug. 28th, 1817.
P.S. Since I sent my note to the press, my friends have manifested some objections to the gentleness of my remonstrances, under circumstances so truly aggravating, as that of having my name at all mentioned in the details of such a filthy concern; and as I have occasionally the instruction of noblemen’s sons, of the first respectability, I must, under every consideration, insist on its being immediately withdrawn.—But, if humanity should dispose you to dispense with my name, in this instance, without further trouble, it shall certainly be at your service, whenever you feel disposed seriously to argue the possibility of one bigot in a hundred being brought to the right use of his reason.
You will, I trust, excuse the shortness of this address, as my own paralytic debility, accompanied with a death in my family, which has not yet advanced to interment, forbids me to say more.
To Mr. J. Fairburn,Publisher,&c.
We are informed by a most respectable follower of and believer in, John Church, one who gave evidence on his trial in his favour, and whose name we will, if required, give up to satisfy the most credulous of its authenticity, that on Monday evening last, after a visit to his residence, adjoining the Tabernacle, in the Borough-road, he returned to Rock-House, Hammersmith, which he had no sooner entered than the mob, having gained a knowledge of his being there, attacked with mud, filth, and other missile annoyances, and presently broke all the windows, expressing their indignation at Church’s most abominable atrocities; meanwhile, by groans, hisses, and all sorts of execrations, they having previously drest up an effigy of him, in a black silk gown, with a paintedChurchplacedon each side, that the most dull might be informed whom it was meant to represent, paraded with it all through the village, when they finally burnt it to typify thoseGomorrah fires, which, in the absence of a timely and sincere repentance, we are taught to believe will be the lot of the original in that place where fire is never quenched. Of this repentance we are sorry to observe no signs at present, but wetrust the forth-coming punishment (most probablysolitary confinement) will give him leisure to reflect on his atrocities and awaken him to a due sense of their enormities: truly happy shall we be to hear that the retribution of an earthly judge has shewn him the greater danger in which he stands with regard to his heavenly one.
From theDevilto his Friend mid FollowerJohn Church.
Oh, say not,John Church,I’ve left youin the lurch,Whenyour life in my service you’ve past;ThoughI seem to forsake,My dear John, do notquake,I’ll be sure tostick to you at last.
You know thatOld NickStill is sure those totrick,Who think theyas deep are as he;Andhe, still, John, it proves,Chaseneththose he best loves,Andhe loves none so dearly as thee.
Besides, John, I thoughtIf I let you be caughtIn your tricks here on earth, ’twould be well;For ’twould serve for a tasteOf the joys you must hasteTo enjoy with me, Johnny, in h—.
And then, John, yourpreaching,Andspiritual teaching,Had almost growntoo great a joke;To those who knew you,And they were not a few,Who still laugh’d as on gospel you spoke.
True, you still rail’d at me,John,sans ceremonie,And no one thought me your sworn brother;Like rouges in-grain true,Who their tricks to pursue,Still behind their backs backbite each other.
Like me you wear black,My dear John, on your back,Then, hasten, dear John, to come down;Guilt’s ne’er look’d on so well,My dear Johnny, in h—,As whenclad in a minister’s gown.
We are hypocrites both,To deceive nothing loth,In short we’re just form’d for each other;Thencome Johnny,do,Or I must come for you,—Oh, come to Old Nick, your dear brother.
You shall be treated well,Dearest Johnny, in h—,You onsulphur and brimstoneshall feast;We’ll withfires keep you warm,And do all things to charm;As befits so illustrious a guest.
In h—, John, you’ll meetMany friends fromVere-Street,Which quite cosey and handy will be;For theirchaplainin h—You may be, John, as wellAs on earth you us’d one time, be.
True, John, scripture you quote,Like a parrot, by rote,So too many other men do;And then ’tis well knownAlmost to every one,I, the devil, can quote scripture too.
Thy locks all so lank,And thy chops all so blank,And thy hoarse nasal twangings to boot;Finely humm’d all the folks;But adieu to such jokes,For, like me, you’ve now shewncloven foot.
THE END.
This Day it published,Price only Sixpence,FAIRBURN’S EDITIONOF THEUNPRECEDENTEDTRIALBETWEENMARK BROWNE, Esq.PLAINTIFF,ANDMARTIN JOSEPH BLAKE, Esq.DEFENDANT,FORAdultery;INCLUDINGMr. PHILLIPS’sELOQUENT SPEECH FOR THE PLAINTIFFAt Full Length;
With the whole of theCurious Evidenceon both sides,of which theJudge(Lord Norbury)
SUPPRESSED THE PUBLICATION!!!
Comprising such a Body ofPiquante,Unique, and Extraordinary EvidenceofIrish Gallantry, as was never before broughtinto a Court of Justice.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND.ByT. FINNERTY,Esq. DUBLIN.
In this Edition is given a complete detail of the Plaintiff’s incredible and unprecedented Bet of £5,000 respecting his Wife; his Whimsical Crim. Con. Rehearsal; His Amours with his House-Maid in the Parlour, and Lady’s Maid in the Carnage; his acting of the “Gallant Gay Lothario;” Horse Imitations; Adventures of “Trusty Roger;” Entertainment of the “Plenipotentiary;” extraordinary Wish concerning acertain distinguished Female; Whimsical alteration of Dr. Shadwell’s Name by the substitution of a Letter; New Mode of educating a Daughter; the modern Don Juan, whose Amours would take up a Month in telling; the darlingPiece, or little Kitty Tierney; Galwayundrest Delicacy; or, never mind your Clothes; shut your Eyes, and come to those you like best; a Wife’s good Qualities, with a Husband’s Prowess; Michael Tully and Honour Brenan, orknowing a Woman“VERY WELL;” the prudent Nursery-Maid,up to spoiling a Bed, but not tospoiling Sport, &c. &c. &c.
LONDON:Published by JOHN FAIRBURN, 2, Broadway, Ludgate-Hill,
FAIRBURN’S EDITION of the whole Proceedings on the TRIAL OF ROGER O’CONNOR, Esq. the celebrated Irish Patriot, Friend and Associate of Sir Francis Burdett, Bart. on a Charge of robbing the Galway Mail-Coach, in December, 1812. Tried at the County of Meath Assizes, before Mr. Justice Daly, on Monday, August 4, 1817, and following Day.—Taken in Short Hand by T. Finnerty,Esq.Dublin.
FAIRBURN’S CORRECT EDITION of the TRIAL of JAMES WATSON, Senior, for HIGH TREASON, including the whole of the Evidence, Speeches of the Attorney-General, Solicitor-General, Mr. Wetherell, and Mr. Serjeant Copley, with the Charge to the Jury, &c. &c.This Edition contains nearly double the Information of any other, and may be had in Twenty-four Numbers, at Three-Halfpence each.
THE TRIAL between LORD ROSEBERRY and Sir HENRY MILDMAY, forCriminal Conversationwith the Plaintiff’s Wife. Including the Attorney-General’s Speech, and Mr. Brougham’s Reply, at full length. Tried at the Sheriff’s Court, Bedford-street, on Saturday, December 10th, 1814. Fourth Edition, including the Love-Letters.
THE TRIAL between LIEUTENANT TRELAWNEY, Plaintiff, and CAPTAIN COLEMAN, Defendant, forCriminal Conversationwith the Plaintiff’s’ Wife; including the Amorous Love Letters, &c. &c. Tried in the Court of King’s Bench, Westminster, before Mr. Justice Holroyd, and a Special Jury, July 9, 1817.
THE LOVE-SICK LAWYER; being the Trial between Mr. GOODALL (Admiral of Hayti), Plaintiff, and Mr. FLETCHER (Attorney at Law), Defendant, forCriminal Conversationwith the Plaintiff’s Wife; containing the curious Love-Letters at full length. Tried at the Court of King’s Bench, Westminster, before Lord Ellenborough and a Special Jury, on Monday, July 19th, 1813, when a Verdict was given for the Plaintiff—Damages,Five Thousand Pounds!Price Sixpence.
THE BLACK DWARF.—By T. J.Wooler.A fewComplete Setsof this Popular Work may be had ofJohn Fairburn, 2, Broadway, Ludgate-hill.
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