Chapter XV: The Imprisoned Father.—1705–1709 (1)

It was about this period of Mr Wesley’s history that he wished and proposed to go as a missionary to the East Indies. The only English missionary society then existing was the Society for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts. This society was instituted by King William III. in 1701, and had for its object the maintenance of clergymen in the British plantations, colonies, and factories. It was managed by a board of ninety persons, including the two archbishops, several bishops, and a number of the nobility, gentry, and clergy.

Mr Wesley’s scheme was threefold. First, he proposed to inquire into the state of English colonists, in all the English factories and settlements, from St Helena to India and China; travelling wherever it was possible to travel, either by land or sea; and where that could not be done, making the same inquiry by means of correspondence from Surat, which he seems to have intended to be his place of residence. He wished to inquire into the number of the English colonists, their morals, and their ministers; and to revive among them the spirit of Christianity, by catechising, by good books, and by other means of the same description.

The second part of his scheme had reference to other Churches. He would endeavour to open a correspondence with the Church of Abyssinia, or, if the English board of management thought fit, he would try to pierce into that country himself. He would also personally inquire into the state of the poor Christians of St Thomas, who were scattered all over India, and would settle a correspondence between them and the Church of England. He also proposed to convey Protestant books among the Roman Catholics, translated into the language of the countries where he found them dwelling.

Then, in the third place, he would exert himself to benefit the heathen natives. He would endeavour to learn the language of Hindostan, that he might be able to reason and to preach to the people in their native tongue, and so convert them and their Brahmins to the religion of Jesus Christ.

He acknowledges that he is not “sufficient for the least of these designs, much less for all together; but it would be well worth dying for to make some progress in any one of them; and he would expect the same assistance as to kind, though not to degree, which was granted of old to the first planters of the gospel.”

He thinks that if the East India Company were made acquainted with his scheme they might deem it worthy of encouragement; and he also hopes that Queen Anne might be prevailed upon to grant it her royal favour; but even should the Queen and the East India Company give him no encouragement, he was still prepared to go on two conditions—1. That he be allowed £140 a year; £100 of which he would devote to his own expenses, and the remaining £40 to a curate employed to take his place at Epworth. And 2. That, in case of his decease while upon his mission, provision might be made for the subsistence of his family, they, of course, being supported while he lived by the income of his rectory.

Such was Samuel Wesley’s noble plan to go as a missionary, for £100 a year, to St Helena, Abyssinia, India, and China. Perhaps communications from his wife’s brother, Samuel Annesley, jun., now resident in India, might have excited within him some amount of interest in the welfare of the inhabitants of that country; but, over and above all that, he was animated with a zeal for God and a love for the souls of men which made him willing not only to encounter hardship and danger, but even death in his great missionary project. His father, John Wesley of Whitchurch, was inspired with the same spirit; and, when forbid to preach in England, longed to go to Surinam, in Guiana, or to Maryland, in America, as a missionary among the English settlers there. The father’s heroic spirit was the spirit of the son, and also of the grandsons, John and Charles, who, full of zeal for the Most High, tore themselves from their friends at Oxford, and, almost without scrip or purse, crossed the Atlantic to preach the glorious gospel of the blessed God to the different tribes of American Indians.

Samuel Wesley’s proposal was not adopted; but it was not on that account the less honourable to his head and heart.

On the 5th of April 1705, Queen Anne dissolved by proclamation the high Tory House of Commons, and, of course, this was followed by a general election. Whigs and Tories now exerted themselves to the uttermost. Party struggles throughout the kingdom were most vehement. The clergy generally were in favour of the Tories, and took great pains to infuse into the people tragical apprehensions, that, if the Whigs obtained a majority, the Church would be in danger. The universities took the same side of the question, and “the Church in danger” was the election cry of the Tory party.

The contest for the county of Lincoln was extremely violent. The late members, Sir John Thorold and Mr Dymoke, were Tories. Their opponents, Colonel Whichcott and Mr Bertie, were Whigs. Mr Wesley was early and zealously canvassed by both parties. At first, he promised to do what was exceeding fair, viz., to vote for Thorold and Whichcott, and thus give to each party the benefit of his example and of his influence. In course of time, the party-cry reached the Isle of Axholme. Thorold and Dymoke stood up for royalty and the Church; Whichcott and Bertie, both Churchmen, threw themselves into the hands of the Dissenters. By the Whig party, the Church, the clergy, and “the memory of the martyr were openly scandalised;” and it now became a serious question with Mr Wesley whether he should fulfil his promise to vote for a man whose party were thus assailing the Church he so much loved; and, though it was “equally against his inclination and his interest, he determined to drop both when honour and conscience were concerned, and to vote for the friends of the Church.” As soon as this was known, the Whigs loaded him and his family with every kind of insult and persecution within their power. On the steps of his own church, he was called “rascal and scoundrel;” but we will permit him to tell his own story. In a letter to Archbishop Sharpe, dated “Epworth, June 7, 1705,” he writes:—

“I went to Lincoln on Tuesday night, May 29th, and the election began on Wednesday, 30th. A great part of the night our isle people kept drumming, shouting, and firing of pistols and guns under the windows where my wife lay, who had been brought to bed not three weeks before. I had put the child to nurse over against my own house; the noise kept his nurse waking till one or two in the morning. Then they left off; and the nurse being heavy to sleep, overlaid the child. She waked, and finding it dead, ran with it to my house almost distracted, and calling my servants, threw it into their arms. They, as wise as she, ran up with it to my wife, and, before she was well awake, threw it cold and dead into hers. She composed herself as well as she could, and that day got it buried.

“A clergyman met me in (Lincoln) Castle yard, and told me to withdraw, for the isle men intended me a mischief. Another told me he had heard near twenty of them say, ‘If they got me in the castle yard they would squeeze my guts out.’ My servant had the same advice. I went by Gainsborough, and God preserved me.

“When they knew I was got home they sent the drum and mob, with guns, &c., as usual, to compliment me till after midnight. One of them passing by on Friday evening, and seeing my children in the yard, cried out, ‘O ye devils! we will come and turn ye all out of doors a begging shortly.’ God convert them and forgive them!

“All this, thank God, does not in the least sink my wife’s spirits. For my own, I feel them disturbed and disordered; but, for all that, I am going on with my reply to Palmer, which, whether I am in prison or out of it, I hope to get finished by the next session of parliament, for I have now no more regiments to lose.”

What had Wesley done to deserve outrages like these? He had withdrawn his promise to vote for Whichcott, the Dissenters’ candidate, because the Dissenters, for election purposes, began to abuse the Church, the clergy, and the memory of Charles I. And, secondly, he had “concerned himself in the election of the county, which he thought he had as much right to do as any other freeholder.”[180] For this claim of freedom to vote as he thought proper, the professed friends of freedom deemed it their duty to subject him and his family to all this insult and injury. Is it surprising that, after this, Samuel Wesley should look askance upon his old friends, the Dissenters; and that, to some extent, he should, as _Wesleyan_ biographers have stated, ally himself to the opponents of Dissenters, the “High Flyers” of the Church of England?

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Footnote 180:

Kirk’s _Mother of the Wesleys_, p. 89, 90.

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In the last sentence of the foregoing letter, there is an expression which must be noticed. Wesley says, “I have no more regiments to lose.” An explanation will be found in the following narrative:—

For above thirty years, John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, had pursued the military life with amazing ability and success. He had married Sarah Jennings, the companion of Princess Anne. On the accession of Anne, he was appointed captain-general of the forces at home and abroad, with an allowance of £10,000 a year. After a succession of marvellous victories, he fought and won the battle of Blenheim, in August 1704. In this battle, the French and Bavarians lost nearly forty thousand men, or about two-thirds of their entire army. Thirteen thousand were made prisoners, among whom were twelve hundred officers. Ten French battalions were wholly cut to pieces; and thirty squadrons of horse and dragoons were forced into the Danube, most of whom were drowned. Marlborough took above one hundred cannon, twenty-four mortars, one hundred and twenty-nine colours, one hundred and seventy-one standards, seventeen pair of kettle-drums, three thousand six-hundred tents, thirty-four coaches, three hundred laden mules, two bridges of boats, fourteen pontoons, and eight casks of silver. His loss in killed and wounded was twelve thousand. The hero received the thanks of both Houses of Parliament; the city entertained him with a splendid feast; the colours taken from the enemy were paraded from one extremity of London to the other; the Queen gave to him and to his heirs for ever the manor of Woodstock and the hundred of Wootton, and caused a palace, Blenheim House, to be built for him. His prime fault was his avarice. “The desire of accumulating money,” says John Wesley, “attended him in all his triumphs, and threw a stain upon his character. In the whole, he received above £523,000 of the public money, which he never accounted for, and probably received some millions by plunder and presents.”[181] He died in 1722.

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Footnote 181:

Wesley’s _History of England_.

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Such was the man whose exploits Samuel Wesley celebrated in 1705. His poem is a folio pamphlet of twelve pages, and is “dedicated to the Right Honourable Master Godolphin.” With one or two exceptions, perhaps this is the most finished poem that Samuel Wesley ever wrote. It consists of five hundred and twenty-six lines, many of them containing beauties of the highest order.

In consequence of this poem, the Duke of Marlborough made him chaplain to Colonel Lepelle’s regiment, which was to stay in England for some time; and a nobleman sent for him to London, promising to procure him a prebend. All this, however, happened while he was in the midst of his controversy with Mr Palmer, and the result was, his old friends, the irritated Dissenters, who had powerful influence both in parliament and at court, succeeded in preventing him obtaining the cathedral appointment; and, also, soon worked him out of the military chaplainship, which was actually given him.[182]

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Footnote 182:

Whitehead’s _Life of John and Charles Wesley_.

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It is to the last of these mean and revengeful actions he refers when, in the foregoing letter, he remarks “I have no more regiments to lose.”

Samuel Wesley’s dissenting controversy involved him and his family in terrible trials. Some have been related, others yet remain. The following letter to Archbishop Sharpe was written within a month after the general election:—

“LINCOLN CASTLE, _June 25, 1705_.

“MY LORD,—Now I am at rest, for I have come to the haven where I have
long expected to be. On Friday last, when I had been christening a
child at Epworth, I was arrested in my churchyard by one who had been
my servant and gathered my tithe last year, at the suit of one of Mr
Whichcott’s relations and zealous friends, (Mr Pinder,) according to
their promise, when they were in the isle, before the election. The
sum was not £30; but it was as good as five hundred. Now, they knew
the burning of my flax, my London journey, and their throwing me out
of my regiment, had both sunk my credit and exhausted my money. My
adversary was sent to when I was on the road, to meet me, that I might
make some proposals to him. But all his answer was that, ‘I must
immediately pay the whole sum or go to prison.’ Thither I went with no
great concern for myself, and find much more civility and satisfaction
here than in _bevibus gyaris_ of my own Epworth. I thank God, my wife
was pretty well recovered, and was churched some days before I was
taken from her; and I hope she will be able to look to my family, if
they do not turn them out of doors, as they have often threatened to
do. One of my biggest concerns was my being forced to leave my poor
lambs in the midst of so many wolves. But the Great Shepherd is able
to provide for them, and to preserve them. My wife bears it with that
courage which becomes her, and which I expected from her.

“I do not despair of doing some good here, and it may be, I shall do
more in this new parish than in my old one; for I have leave to read
prayers every morning and afternoon in the prison, and to preach once
a Sunday, which I choose to do in the afternoon, when there is no
sermon at the minster. I am getting acquainted with my brother
gaol-birds as fast as I can, and shall write to London next post, to
the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, who, I hope, will
send me some books to distribute among them.

“I should not write these things from a gaol if I thought your Grace
would believe me ever the less for my being here; where, if I should
lay my bones, I would bless God and pray for your Grace.—Your Grace’s
very obliged and most humble servant,

“S. WESLEY.”

Five days afterwards, the good archbishop wrote a sympathising letter; but, at the same time, stated what he had heard against him. This letter Mr Wesley answered; gave a satisfactory account of all his affairs, and showed that the reports which had reached the archbishop were perfectly false, and adduced proof of this. He then continues his letter as follows:—

“LINCOLN CASTLE, _July 10, 1705_.

“MY LORD,—I am not forgotten, neither by God nor by your lordship. My
debts are about £300, which I have contracted by a series of
misfortunes not unknown to your Grace. The falling of my parsonage
barn before I had recovered the taking my living; the burning of a
great part of my dwelling-house about two years since, and all my flax
last winter; the fall of my income nearly one-half, by the low prices
of grain; the almost entire failure of my flax this year, which used
to be the better half of my revenue; together with my numerous family,
and the taking this regiment from me, which I had obtained with so
much expense and trouble,—have at last crushed me, though I struggled
as long as I was able. Yet I hope to rise again, as I have always done
when at the lowest; and I think I cannot be much lower now.

“Do not be in haste to credit what they report of me, for really lies
are the manufacture of the party; and they have raised so many against
me, and spread them so wide, that I am sometimes tempted to print my
case in my own vindication.”

The party whom Wesley had opposed had prevented him obtaining a prebend, had wrested from him a regimental chaplaincy, had indirectly occasioned the death of his infant child, had loaded him with obloquy, and had cast him into prison. Surely this was punishment enough for the publication of his unlucky letter, and his two pamphlets in defence of it, and for the vote which he had given at the general election of 1705. But not so. Two months after writing the foregoing letter, be poured fresh sorrows into the ear of his friend, the archbishop. He writes:—

“LINCOLN CASTLE, _Sept. 12, 1705_.

“MY LORD,—It is happy for me that your Grace has entertained no ill
opinion of me, and will not alter what you have entertained without
reason. But it is still happier that I serve a Master who cannot be
deceived, and who, I am sure, will never forsake me. A jail is a
paradise in comparison of the life I led before I came hither. No man
has worked truer for bread than I have done, and few have lived
harder, or their families either. I am grown weary of vindicating
myself; not, I thank God, that my spirits sink, or that I have not
right on my side, but because I have almost a whole world against me;
and therefore shall, in the main, leave my cause to the righteous
Judge.

“A few weeks ago, in the night, since I came hither, my enemies
stabbed my cows, endeavouring thereby to starve my forlorn family in
my absence; my cows being all dried by it, which was their chief
subsistence; though I hope they had not the power to kill any of them
outright.

“After it was done, to divert the cry of the world against them, they
spread a report that my own brawn (boar) did this mischief; though at
first they said my cows ran against a scythe and wounded themselves.

“As for the brawn, any impartial jury would bring him in not guilty,
on hearing the evidence. There were three cows all wounded at the same
time, one of them in three places; the biggest was a flesh wound, not
slanting, but directly in towards the heart, which it only missed by
glancing outward on the rib. It was nine inches deep; whereas the
brawn’s tusks were hardly two inches long. All conclude that the work
was done with a sword, by the breadth and shape of the orifice.

“The same night the iron latch of my door was twined off, and the wood
hacked in order to shoot back the lock, which nobody will think was
with an intention to rob my family. My house-dog, who made a huge
noise within doors, was sufficiently punished for his want of politics
and moderation; for, the next day but one, his leg was almost chopped
off by an unknown hand.

“It is not every one that could bear these things: but, I bless God,
my wife is less concerned with suffering them than I am in the
writing, or than I believe your Grace will be in reading them. She is
not what she is represented, any more than I am. I believe it was this
foul beast of a worse-than-Erymanthean boar, already mentioned, who
fired my flax by rubbing his tusks against the wall; but that was no
great matter, since it is now reported I had but £5 loss.

“O my lord! I once more repeat it, that I shall sometime have a more
equal Judge than any in this world.

“Most of my friends advise me to leave Epworth, if ever I should get
from hence. I confess I am not of that mind, because I may yet do good
there; and it is like a coward to desert my post because the enemy
fire thick upon me. They have only wounded me yet, and, I believe,
cannot kill me. I hope to be at home at Christmas. God help my poor
family! For myself, I have but one life, but while that lasts, shall
be your Grace’s ever obliged and most humble servant, S.
WESLEY.”

Such were the sufferings inflicted by unrelenting enemies upon a man with a sickly wife and eight young children. Such conduct was outrageous, and admits of no excuse. Five days after the above letter was sent off, the poor prisoner wrote another to the same excellent archbishop:—

“LINCOLN CASTLE, _Sept. 17, 1705_.

“MY LORD,—I am so full of God’s mercies that neither my eyes nor my
heart can hold them. When I came hither, my stock was but little above
ten shillings, and my wife’s at home scarce so much. She soon sent me
her rings, because she had nothing else to relieve me with; but I
returned them, and God soon provided for me. The most of those who
have been my benefactors keep themselves concealed. But they are all
known to Him who first put it into their hearts to show me so much
kindness; and I beg your Grace to assist me to praise God for it, and
to pray for His blessing upon them.

“This day I have received a letter from Mr Hoar, that he has paid £95,
which he has received from me. He adds that ‘a very great man has just
sent them £30 more;’ he mentions not his name, though surely it must
be my patron. I find I walk a deal lighter; and I hope I shall sleep
better now that these sums are paid, which will make almost half my
debts. I am a bad beggar, and worse at returning formal thanks; but I
can heartily pray for my benefactors; and I hope I shall do it while I
live, and so long beg to be esteemed, your Grace’s most obliged, and
thankful humble servant, SAM. WESLEY.”

It is uncertain how much longer Mr Wesley was kept in Lincoln Castle; but four months after this he was once more at his home at Epworth. Archbishop Sharpe and others were extremely kind, and the following additional anecdote of his Grace’s thoughtful sympathy, deserves insertion. Mrs Wesley writes:—“When my master was in Lincoln Castle, the late Archbishop of York said to me, ‘Tell me, Mrs Wesley, whether you ever really wanted bread?’ My lord, said I, I will freely own to your Grace that, strictly speaking, I never did want bread. But then, I had so much care to get it before it was ate, and to pay for it after, as has often made it very unpleasant to me. And I think to have bread on such terms is the next degree of wretchedness to having none at all. ‘You are certainly in the right,’ replied his lordship, who seemed for a while very thoughtful. Next morning he made me a handsome present; nor did he ever repent having done so. On the contrary, I have reason to believe it afforded him comfortable reflections before his death.”[183]

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Footnote 183:

Clarke’s _Wesley Family_, vol. i. p. 391.

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Thus wrote Susannah Wesley respecting one of her husband’s friends. Hear what she says respecting one of his enemies. “Last Thursday, (May 1706,) a very sad accident happened here. Robert Darwin, a man of this town, was at Bawtry Fair, where he got drunk; and, riding homeward down a hill, his horse came down with him, and he fell with his face to the ground, and put his neck out of joint. Those with him immediately pulled it in again, and he lived till next day; but he never spoke more. His face was torn all to pieces, one of his eyes beat out, his under lip cut off, and his nose broken down. In short, he was one of the dreadfullest examples of the severe justice of God that I have known. This man, as he was one of the richest in this place, (Epworth,) so he was one of the most implacable enemies your father had among his parishioners; one that insulted him most basely in his troubles, one that was ready to do him all the mischief he could; not to mention his affronts to me and the children, and how heartily he wished to see our ruin. This man, and one more, have been now cut off, in the midst of their sins, since your father’s confinement.”[184]

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Footnote 184:

_Methodist Magazine_, 1846, p. 667.

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The heroic wife, during the rector’s imprisonment, evinced fortitude, fidelity, and love, worthy of herself. Money she had none,—not a coin; the household lived on bread and milk, the produce of the Epworth glebe; but she did what she could to help her husband in his strait;—she sent him her little articles of jewellery, including her wedding-ring; but these he sent her back, as things far too sacred to be used in relieving his necessities. Brave-hearted couple! The wife did her duty; but the husband’s soul was far too noble to avail himself of such a sacrifice.

In his “Pious Communicant,” published in 1700, Samuel Wesley puts into the reader’s mouth a beautiful prayer, which he had doubtless often offered on his own behalf, and which, in his present circumstances, was peculiarly appropriate. The prayer, for itself, is worth preserving; and, in a narrative like this, is of some importance, as illustrating the thoroughly devout and Christian spirit of this much-tried godly minister. It is as follows:—

“A PRAYER FOR ONE IN AFFLICTION AND WANT.

“O God! who art infinite in power, and compassion, and goodness, and
truth! who hast promised in Thy holy Word, that Thou wilt hear the
prayer of the poor destitute, and wilt not despise his desire. Look
down, I beseech thee, from heaven, the habitation of Thy holiness and
glory, upon me a miserable sinner, now lying under Thy hand in great
affliction and sorrow. I am weary of my groaning, my heart faileth me.
The light of my eyes is gone from me, I sink in the deep waters, and
there is none to help me; yet I wait still upon Thee my God. Though
all the world forsake me, let the Lord still uphold me, and in Him let
me always find the truest, the kindest, the most compassionate,
unwearied almighty friendship. To Him let me ease my wearied soul, and
unbosom all my sorrows!

“Help me, O Lord! against hope to believe in hope! Grant that I may
not be moved with all the slights and censures of a mistaken world.
Let me look by faith beyond this vale of tears and misery, to that
happy place which knows no pain, or want, or sorrows. I know, O Lord!
that a man’s life consists not in the abundance of the things that he
possesses, but that he who has the most here, as he brought nothing
with him into this world, so he shall carry nothing out. I bless Thee
that Thou hast not given me my portion among those who have received
all their consolation here, whose portion is in this life only.
Neither let me expect those blessings which Thou hast promised to the
poor, unless I am really poor in spirit, and meek, and humble. I know
nothing is impossible with God, and that it is Thou alone who givest
power to get riches, and that Thou canst by Thy good providence, raise
me from this mean condition, whenever Thou pleasest, and will
certainly do it, if it be best for me. I therefore humbly submit all
unto Thy wise and kind disposal. I desire not wealth or greatness.
Give me neither extreme poverty, nor do I ask riches of Thee, but only
to be fed with food convenient for me. I desire earnestly to seek
first the kingdom of God and the righteousness thereof, well hoping
that, in Thy good time, food and raiment, and all other things that be
needful shall be added unto me. I believe, O Lord! that Thou who
feedest the ravens, and clothest the lilies, wilt not neglect me and
mine,—that thou wilt make good Thy own unfailing promises,—wilt give
meat to them that fear Thee, and be ever mindful of Thy covenant. In
the meantime, let me not be querulous, or impatient, or envious at the
prosperity of the wicked; or judge uncharitably of those to whom Thou
hast given a larger portion of the good things of this life; or be
cruel to those who are in the same circumstances as myself. Let me
never sink or despond under my heavy pressures and continued
misfortunes. Though I fall, let me rise again. Let my heart never be
sunk so low that I should be afraid to own the cause of despised
virtue. Give me diligence, and prudence, and industry, and let me
neglect nothing that lies in me to provide honestly for my own house,
lest I be worse than an infidel. Help me carefully to examine my life
past; and, if by my own carelessness or imprudence, I have reduced
myself into this low condition, let me be more deeply afflicted for
it; but yet let me still hope in Thy goodness, avoiding those failures
whereof I have been formerly guilty. Or, if for my sins Thou hast
brought this upon me, help me now, with submission and patience, to
bear the punishment of my iniquity. Or, if by Thy wise providence Thou
art pleased thus to afflict me for trial, and for the example of
others, Thy will, O my God! not mine, be done. Help me, and any who
are in the same circumstances, in patience to possess our souls, and
let all Thy fatherly chastisements advance us still nearer towards
Christian perfection. Teach us the emptiness of all things here
below—wean us more and more from a vain world. Fix our hearts more
upon heaven, and help us forward in the way that leads to everlasting
life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom with the Father and the
Holy Ghost, be glory, honour, and power, now and for ever. Amen!”[185]

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Footnote 185:

_Pious Communicant_, p. 189–193.

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Such a prayer as the above helps to supply the lack of a religious diary; and so will the following extracts from letters written immediately after Mr Wesley was released from Lincoln Castle. It ought to be premised that all the letters were addressed to his son Samuel, who was now sixteen years of age, and for two years past had been a pupil in Westminster School:—

“EPWORTH, _January 14, 1706_.

“DEAR CHILD,—I now call you so, more on account of your relation than
your age; for you are past childhood, and I shall hereafter use you
with more freedom, and communicate my thoughts to you as a friend as
well as a father. Most of what I write to you will be the result of my
own dear-bought experience; and you may expect a letter once a month
at least; and I hope, in mere civility, you will sometimes write
again, unless my son, too, has made a vow never to write to me more,
as I am sometimes inclined to think my mother has. If you think these
letters worth preserving, you may lay them together, and sometimes
look over them.

“I shall begin, as I ought, with piety, strictly so called, or your
duty towards God, which is the foundation of all happiness. I hope you
are tolerably grounded, for one of your age, in the principles of
natural religion, and the firm belief of the being of a God, as well
as of His providence, justice, and goodness, (if not, look upon me,
and doubt it if you can!) towards which you have had considerable
advantages in your reading so much of Tillotson, while you were here,
as well as in your mother’s most valuable letter to you on that
subject, which I hope you will not let mould by you; I am sure you
ought not to do it, for not many mothers could write such a letter.

“Now if there be a God, as it follows that He is just, good, and
powerful, so I leave it to your own thoughts whether it be not our
clearest interest, as well as honour and happiness, to serve Him, and
the greatest folly in the world not to do it. This service must begin
at the heart by fearing and loving Him. The way to attain this happy
temper is often to contemplate, deeply and seriously, His attributes
and perfections, especially His omniscience, omnipresence, and justice
for the former; and His beneficence and love to mankind to excite the
latter, particularly that amazing instance of it—His sending His Son
to die for us; which that pious youth, Charles Goodall, (who went to
heaven not much older than you are,) could never reflect upon without
rapture, as I find by his papers now in my hands, and which, perhaps,
you and the public may sometime have a sight of.

“Another way to preserve and increase piety is to exercise it in
constant and fervent devotion. There never was a very good man without
constant secret prayer; as I know not how any can be wicked while he
conscientiously discharges that duty. If we make our less necessary
employments take the place of our stated devotions—or, what is next to
it, crowd them up into a narrow room—we shall soon find our piety
sensibly abate, and all that is good ready to run to ruin.

“With these are to be enjoined the daily reading of God’s Word, on no
occasion to be omitted, and that with care and observation, especially
such passages as more immediately concern your own case and the state
of your soul.

“Next to this, I can scarce recommend anything that would more conduce
to the advancement of true piety than your Christian diary. I will not
reproach you that a mother’s commands were more prevalent than those
of a father, for your resuming and continuing it, since I am too well
pleased that you have at last done it. This, with the exercise which
you will have, will find you employment; and, therefore, you must be a
good husband of your time, and fix certain hours for everything, not
neglecting bodily exercise for the preservation of your health.

“I have not time to close this head, but yet would not any longer
delay to write. I commend you to God’s gracious protection, and would
have you always remember that He sees and loves you. Your mother will
write soon to you. We are all well.—I am your affectionate father,

“SAMUEL WESLEY.”[186]

-----

Footnote 186:

_Methodist Magazine_, 1846, p. 50.

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The following is an extract from a letter written seven months after the date of the former one:—

“EPWORTH, _August 15, 1706_.

“DEAR CHILD,—My last related to that part of piety which is to be
exercised between God and your own soul. This will refer to public
devotion, which is our due homage to Almighty God, and never ought to
be neglected, unless in case of unavoidable necessities, as sickness
and the like, and therefore not for taking physic, unless the case be
very pressing; for you cannot expect to gain anything in your studies
by robbing God of that small moiety of time. I understand you are now
under the happy necessity of being always present at public worship,
of which I am very glad; but then, you know, it is by no means
sufficient to sit as God’s people sit, if our hearts be far from Him.
There ought to be a due preparation of mind before you presume to
approach the house of God. When you are entering, remember whither you
are going; when present, remember where you are, and say, ‘How
dreadful is this place!’ Always consider the sacredness of it, on
account of its dedication and relation to God, and His presence in it,
as well as its sacred uses; for I suppose you are hardly of the same
mind with the rebellious assembly of divines, and I hope never will
be, who, as impudently as falsely, affirm, that ‘no place is holy on
account of any separation or dedication whatever.’

“You will find the firm belief of God’s presence in His own holy house
of prayer will be of great advantage to you in fixing your thoughts on
the great work for which you come thither; which, as soon as you
enter, and when you take your seat, you are to express in most humble
adorations of body and mind, accompanied with some short prayer,
either mental or vocal, suitable to the occasion.

“When the service begins, you are to join with it, and go along with
every part of it, with the utmost intension and most fervent devotion;
for which end keep your eye fixed upon your Prayer-book or Bible, and
let your eye go along with the priest, which will keep your thoughts
from wandering.

“I hope you understand the cathedral service—I mean, understand what
they sing and say—which at first is something difficult. Unless you
understand what is said, you might as well pray in an unknown tongue.
On the contrary, if we do understand the service and go along with it,
we shall find Church music a great help to our devotion, as it notably
raises our affections towards heaven; which, I believe, has been the
experience of all good men, unless they have been dunces or fanatics;
nay, even the latter confess the same of their own sorry
Sternhold-psalms, which are infinitely inferior to our cathedral
music, as well as some thousands of years of later date, not being of
two hundred years standing. We are not to think God has framed man in
vain an harmonious creature; and surely music cannot be better
employed than in the service and praises of Him who made both the
tongue and the ear. I hope you are not so weak as to be moved by the
wicked examples of idle lads who regard none of these things, or by
their scoffs for your doing it.

“You are to be very attentive to the sermon, because you know in whose
name and by whose commission it is delivered; and that faith, and
obedience too, come by hearing; this being God’s ordinance for the
conversion of mankind and the Church’s edification. By practice you
will be able to remember the principal parts of a sermon; which, with
a little pains, will add an habitual memory to that good natural one
wherewith God hath blessed you. When you come home, immediately
retire, either into your closet, or else to some solitary walk in the
park. There recollect what you have heard, and fix what is observable
in your memory, especially what relates more immediately to yourself
and to the state of your own soul. This will be of great advantage to
you, on more accounts than one, for it will lay a good foundation of
divinity, which study you must always have in your eye, as being both
designed for it, and, I hope, inclined to it above any other.

“Have a particular respect to the religion of the Sabbath, as all good
men have ever had. Value highly that time, for as time, in general, is
the most precious thing in the world, so this is the most precious of
all others, and not designed for idle visits, but for the concern of
our souls, and communion with God in prayer and praise, and other acts
of piety and devotion.

“I hope you dare not make any exercises upon it but what are proper
for the day, such as Judge Hale did; but then, have a care lest, doing
this as a school task only, it may not degenerate into formality. Rob
not yourself of so much pleasure and profit as you will find in your
translations of the Bible into verse, and Sunday exercises of the same
nature, if you are but so happy as to reconcile fancy and devotion,
which have too long been enemies.

“I shall not write anything to you concerning receiving the blessed
sacrament till towards spring; though I hope you frequently think of
it and long for it, as the dearest pledge of your Saviour’s love,
especially when you go home from church and see others stay to receive
it.

“And thus much, at present, of public worship.—I am, your affectionate
friend and father,

“SAMUEL WESLEY.”[187]

-----

Footnote 187:

_Methodist Magazine_, 1846, p. 53.

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Before proceeding to give further extracts from Mr Wesley’s letters, there are two facts in the foregoing which demand attention.

The first is, that the rector was a passionate admirer of sacred music. Of this there can be no doubt. In one of his articles, in the _Athenian Oracle_, (vol. i. p. 393,) be strongly advocates the duty of singing psalms in private families, and attributes the neglect of this to the general decay of piety, though he admits that the faultiness of the metrical versions of the psalms, and the ill choice of tunes, may have had some influence in leading to such neglect. In another article, in the same volume, (p. 440,) he says—“Nothing but a stock is proof against the charms of music, and especially when good sense, good poetry, good tunes, and a good voice meet together.” In another article on the same subject, in vol. iii. p. 95, he strongly complains of Sternhold’s version, and adds, in reference to the tunes, that most of them are so vile that even Orpheus himself could not make good music out of them. “This, and the reading them at such a lame rate, tearing them limb from limb, and leaving sense, cadency, and all at the mercy of the clerk’s nose, may be part of the reason why the Reformed Churches are yet most remiss in psalmody.”

Is it too much to say that the marvellous musical genius of his two grandsons, Charles and Samuel Wesley, was inherited from himself? So remarkable was this talent for music that Charles surprised his father, by playing, with correctness, a tune on the harpsichord before he was three years old; while Samuel taught himself to read from Handel’s oratorios; had all the airs, recitations, and choruses of “Samson” and the “Messiah,” both words and notes, by heart before he was six years old; and, when he was eight, composed and wrote his own oratorio of “Ruth.”

The other fact, in the preceding letter, which deserves to be noticed is, that Samuel Wesley recommends his son, as a Sabbath exercise, to make “translations of the Bible into verse.” He was as fond of sacred song as he was of sacred music. Besides his poetical “Life of Christ,” he had already done what he recommends to his son Samuel, for, in three volumes, he had turned the whole of the histories of the Old and New Testaments into verse; and, though his eldest son did not adopt his suggestion, it was substantially adopted by his youngest son Charles, who, fifty-six years afterwards, published in two volumes his “Short Hymns on Select Passages of the Holy Scriptures;” the hymns being two thousand and thirty in number, all founded upon particular texts, beginning with Genesis and ending with the Revelation of St John.

At the risk of being tedious, we cannot deny ourselves the gratification of inserting the substance of two other letters, written by Mr Wesley to his son Samuel, at Westminster School, in the same year as the above were written, 1706:—

“EPWORTH, _September 1706_.

“DEAR CHILD,—The second part of piety regards your duty towards your
parents, towards whom I hope you will behave yourself as you ought to
the last moment of their lives.

“Some people, who are either fond of paradoxes, or have imbibed ill
principles from our modern plays and such like authors, may, for aught
I know, be in earnest when they defend that most erroneous and
unnatural principle that ‘we owe nothing to our parents on account
that they are the immediate authors of our being.’ But these seem to
forget that God himself, the common Father of the universe, urges this
as an argument against the ingratitude of his people, ‘Is he not thy
Father?’ &c. And again, in Malachi, ‘If I be a father, where is my
honour?’ Perhaps you will think I am pleading my own cause, and so
indeed I am, in some measure; but it is the cause of my mother also,
and even your own cause, if ever you should have children, and,
indeed, that of nature and civil society, which would be dissolved or
exceedingly weakened if this great foundation-stone should be removed.

“You know what you owe to one of the best of mothers. Perhaps you may
have read of one of the Ptolemies, who chose the name of Philometer,
as a more glorious title than if he had assumed that of his
predecessor, Alexander. And it would be an honest and virtuous
ambition in you to attempt to imitate him, for which you have so much
reason. Often reflect on the tender and peculiar love which your dear
mother has always expressed towards you; the deep affliction of both
body and mind which she underwent for you, both before and after your
birth; the particular care she took of your education when she
struggled with so many pains and infirmities; and, above all, the
wholesome and sweet motherly advice and counsel which she has often
given you to fear God, to take care of your soul as well as of your
learning, and to shun all vicious and bad examples. You will, I verily
believe, remember that these obligations of gratitude, love, and
obedience, and the expressions of them are not confined to your tender
years, but must last to the very close of life, and, even after that,
render her memory most dear and precious to you.

“You will not forget to evidence this by supporting and comforting her
in her age, if it please God that she should ever attain to it,
(though I doubt she will not,) and doing nothing which may justly
displease or grieve her, or show you unworthy of such a mother. You
will endeavour to repay her prayers for you by doubling yours for her;
and, above all things, to live such a virtuous and religious life that
she may find that her care and love have not been lost upon you, but
that we may all meet in heaven.

“In short, reverence and love her as much as you will, which I hope
will be as much as you can. For though I should be jealous of any
other rival in your heart, yet I will not be jealous of her; the more
duty you pay her, and the more frequently and kindly you write to her,
the more you will please your affectionate father,

“SAMUEL WESLEY.”[188]

-----

Footnote 188:

_Methodist Magazine_, 1846, p. 251.

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This beautiful advice was not lost. Samuel Badcock, (no great friend of the Wesley family,) in the third volume of the “Bibliotheca Topographica Britannica,” published in 1790, writes:—“I have in my possession a letter of this poor and aged parent, addressed to his son Samuel, in which he gratefully acknowledges his filial duty in terms so affecting that I am at a loss which to admire most—the gratitude of the parent, or the affection and generosity of the child. It was written when the good old man was nearly fourscore, and so weakened by a palsy as to be incapable of directing a pen, unless with his left hand. I preserve it as a curious memorial of what will make Wesley applauded when his wit is forgotten.”

The next letter is as characteristic and as full of interest as any of the preceding:—

“EPWORTH, _November 8, 1706_.

“DEAR CHILD,—After piety to God and to your parents, your morals will
fall next under consideration; or, your duty towards yourself and your
neighbour.

“I hope I need not say much of justice toward your neighbour. Its
general rules are short and easy. ‘Doing as you would be done by, and
loving your neighbour as yourself;’ principles which have been admired
by wise and virtuous heathens when they have heard them from the
gospel; and which are, indeed, inscribed on the hearts of all mankind
as a part of the law—natural, though much obliterated by the lapse of
our nature and vicious habits.

“As for the regiment of your passions, all the rest depend, in a great
measure, on these two—love and hatred, or rather anger.

“As for love, I shall only say at present that whoever expects to
become anything in the world must guard against anti-Platonic love in
his youth, shut his eyes and heart against it, burn romances, have a
care of plays, and keep himself fully employed in some honest
exercise; and then, I think, he will be in no very great danger from
it.

“But love takes in all desirable objects, or such as we fancy
desirable; and here the rule is, first, that it be fixed upon a lawful
object; and then, that it exceed not the due measure; since, if we
offend against the former part of this rule, it unavoidably renders us
criminal; if against the latter, at least ridiculous, imprudent, and
unhappy. Indeed, there is but one object of our love where we cannot
transgress in loving too much; and that is God. Even mediocrity is
here a fault, which is both our wisdom and our virtue in all other
cases.

“As for hatred, I can scarce tell how it is possible to have it in
extremes against any one. For my own part, I have much ado to hate the
devil himself. I am sure I have often pitied him; and I interpret
those scriptures which speak of hating the wicked, &c., as relating
chiefly to their vices, for which we ought always to have a just
abhorrence.

“Anger, and some sort of aversion, I own to be more difficult to
subdue, though even these have too often pride or interest at the
bottom. There never was a truly great man who could not bridle his
passions. This, my boy, is what I wish you would do, what I am sure
you may do, and what would render you wiser and greater than most part
of mankind. This mastery of yourself will cost you some pains before
you can attain it; but it is richly worth all your labour, since this
wise and Christian temper will be so far from inviting injuries, that
you will have much fewer offered you in the course of your life; and
if any should be so devilish as to do it, for that very reason, you
will find they will glide very gently off, and leave little or no
impression behind them.

“And thus much of the government of your passions.—Your affectionate
father,

“SAMUEL WESLEY.”[189]

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Footnote 189:

_Methodist Magazine_, 1846, p. 253.

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Such are a few of the godly letters that were written by the Epworth rector immediately after his release from Lincoln Castle. We are loathe to leave so much Christian serenity, fatherly affection, and manly sentiment, for the region of strife and contest; and yet, to do justice to the subject of these memoirs, we must.