Chapter L: Tyerman (1)

STANHOPE HOUSE, CLAPHAM PARK, _April 2nd, 1873_.

THE OXFORD METHODISTS.

THE FIRST OF THE OXFORD METHODISTS.

ROBERT KIRKHAM.

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, and
_brother I wish I might write_,

“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.

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 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 the _Gazette_, 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
with you. 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
now _miles 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 of _The 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]

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 the other 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 and past 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!”

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 following letter, 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.”

This, in all respects, is a mournful story. No useful end would be answered by asking, whether much religion, or much 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]

Apart from amply refuting the slanderous charge already mentioned, 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.”

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.

WILLIAM MORGAN’S BROTHER.

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.”

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 the tuition 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.”

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 to Charles 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 things _true_:—as, that we imagine it is our
bounden duty to 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 are _false_, 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 take religion 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 to _this_ excess
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 ask _them_,—ask _Him_ who 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:—

“Mr. Hervey, by his easy and engaging conversation, by letting
him see a mind thoroughly serious and happy, where so many of
the fine qualities he most esteemed were all gone over into
the service of religion, gained Mr. Morgan’s heart to the best
purposes.” Gambold adds, “Since Mr. Morgan became that meek,
sincere Christian which he now is,” [written about 1736] “he
has had a singular affection toward Mr. Wesley, and has run
some hazard to be in his company,—a sign that those counsels
and wishes, which seemed once to be given in vain, do now take
place in him.”

About two years after this change in the young Irishman, Wesley, and his brother, accompanied by Benjamin Ingham, set sail for Georgia; and Morgan, so far from being ashamed of their acquaintance, went to London purposely to see them start; and expressed a willingness to go all the way to Yorkshire to do them service. Ingham writes:—[14]

“Mr. Morgan, a gentleman of Lincoln College, Oxford, came
up to London to take leave of Mr. Wesley. He was a zealous
and sincere Christian and was very earnest with me to go to
Georgia. He promised himself to make a journey into Yorkshire
to see my mother, and to do what he could towards settling the
school. As to having my mother’s consent, he said, If I thought
it was God’s will, I must obey my Master, and go wherever I
could do Him service, whether my relations were willing or not.”

This was the fashionable young man who, two years before, entered Lincoln College, bringing a favourite greyhound with him; choosing men “more pernicious than open libertines” for his companions; and writing to his father querulous and false complaints of the Oxford Methodists.

Now he was an Oxford Methodist himself. Hence the following letter, which was addressed to Wesley, three weeks before the two Wesleys and Ingham embarked for Georgia.

“_September 25, 1735._