to give us some intimation of their approach; so I have frequently found
it, either by uncommon joys or remarkable impressions, and very often by
dreams, and these repeatedly. I know this last idea will expose me again
to the contempt of heedless characters; but it is written—“God speaketh
once, yea twice, though man perceiveth it not.” However, many have found
it too true. God spoke so to Joseph, to the butler, and baker, in
prison; to Pharaoh, and to many others of old, and I am fully persuaded
he speaks to us. Not that dreams have any thing to do with salvation
business; although I am fully persuaded that the Lord has often first
imprest many of his people with awful dreams, which have led them to a
serious concern about their souls; and no doubt given them warning of
approaching troubles: so I found it. I dreamed, one night, that a vast
number of young scorpions, or small serpents, were crawling about the
floor of the chapel; this at first alarmed me, but by my feet I crushed
all but two, which fled to the very seat which was occupied by *******
and another. These I could not destroy, which left a painful sensation
on my mind. When I awoke, I knew, at least I judged, some calamity was
approaching; nor was I deceived. A gentlewoman soon after called upon
me—she appeared very dejected; I enquired the cause, when she informed me
she was sure some direful trial would shortly befal me. I asked why she
thought so? Only from the repetition of her dream—which was, that she
saw a cat, while I was in the pulpit, clasp me round the neck, and salute
me; but, as she departed, she tore my neck and throat in so awful a
manner that all were frightened who saw it. I told her it was but a
dream; but she said she was sure it was of God, as the sad event proved.
Shortly after this, I was invited to sleep at a friend’s house, which I
did; but the second night, being indisposed, and having to meet the
committee after service, the hour being late, I was advised and pressed
not to go there; yet I knew I was expected, and being entreated, I
complied. On my road a most unaccountable sensation seized me, and, as
though a hand touched me, a voice, at the same time, seemed to say, “Do
not go to-night.” I made an apology to the party I was with, by saying I
would see them to the door, and then return home; but nothing would
avail. O that I had followed the impressions. Shortly after this night,
I heard a strange rumour, which produced a great deal of uneasiness.
Evil reports were circulating; but, as if some strange infatuation had
seized me, I took little notice of it, yet I thought it strange. These
words came to me: “Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in
the way with him, lest at any time he deliver thee to the judge, and the
judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison.” Yet I
was conscious I had done nothing worthy of death or of bonds, so that I
was still inflexible. Many gossips, through the rumour, continually
plagued the party, which did me infinite injury. Several gentlemen from
the chapel waited on him, to whom he read a deposition, which contained
nothing criminal in my conduct; and, having gained this satisfaction, the
matter rested where it was for nine or ten weeks. The gloomy month of
November arrived, which brought my old adversary to town; and soon after
a friend called on me, and gave me the painful information that he had
seen the above party, with my accuser, at the Public Hall, and being
informed it was concerning me, he thought it right to apprize me of it.
This was the severest blow I ever felt in my life. I immediately
procured counsel; and, without being seat for, appeared. The statement
was made, an assault was declared, bail was put in, and it was bound over
to quarter sessions. This was soon spread. Now a shower of papers,
placards, and pamphlets came pouring over me; the congregation thrown
into trouble; my family in the deepest distress of mind, and my feelings
racked beyond description—while thousands rejoiced in the day of our
calamity. But it is written—“He that is glad at calamity shall smart for
it.” Mark this. I must remind you also of the lamentation of the
church.—1 _Lament._ 21: “They have heard that I sigh, all mine enemies
have heard of my trouble, they are glad that thou hast done it; thou wilt
bring the day that thou hast called, and they shall be like unto me.”
How did the Phillistines now rejoice, supposing that the ark was taken,
but the joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment. Great troubles were in
the church, and “for the division of Reuben there were great searchings
of heart,” but those who were at ease in Zion were not grieved for the
afflictions of Joseph.”—_Amos_, vii. Many paltry scribblers issued forth
their rubbish like insects from the mud of Nile; and I was the song of
the drunkards.
But I cannot here forget the goodness of God, who helped me in the day of
trouble. I constantly preached and administered the ordinances. The
Lord kept all peaceable without and within; thousands looked on and
wondered, as they do to this day. To add to my calamity, I entrusted my
affairs to a very injudicious old lawyer, who, to answer his sordid
purposes, advised me to carry this cause to a higher court: this was only
adding affliction to my bonds. I knew but little about courts of law, so
that I was led, hoodwinked, into this business.
One year and three months rolled away in this trouble. During this time
I wrote a letter to a friend, who carried it to my opposers, and although
couched in the most friendly terms respecting themselves, yet they had
the cruelty to bring forth that letter to my hurt, another day. This was
devilish, indeed: the learned judge mistaking the religious sense of the
letter, supposed that I meant it as a contempt of the just laws of the
country—God forbid. No, no; it was a private letter to a friend, in
which I meant, that any injury done to a child of God, maliciously, {124}
would one day be resented. But this was not treating the laws of the
country with contempt. I ever maintained, that if the holiest Christian
upon earth has violated the laws of his land, he has a just right to
endure the penalty.—Never, surely, did a poor creature suffer so much in
mind, with any outward calamity, as I did. And what for? Some cried one
thing, some another. About this time I changed my situation: many
advised me to leave the country; and, as I was placed in circumstances, I
could have paid my bail, and lived comfortably in another land. But why
should I flee? In this circumstance I asked advice of the Lord, who
graciously answered me—“Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou
dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.” On God’s Word I
relied, and found him faithful.
Yours, J. C.
LETTER XXV.
“Their adversaries said, we offend not, because they have sinned
against the Lord.”—_Jer._ l. 7.
To —
No doubt the steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and he worketh
all things after the counsel of his own will. If so, we hardly know how
to blame the apostle Paul in his conduct, as recorded in _Acts_,
xxv.—When brought before Festus, he appealed to a higher court—“I appeal
unto Cæsar;” then said Festus, “Hast thou appealed unto Cæsar? to Cæsar
thou shalt go.” Here the apostle had two years’ imprisonment, and at
last suffered martyrdom; although, in the lower court, he might have been
set at liberty.
It is the privilege of Englishmen that they may carry their causes to
higher courts; although it was not attend with much good to me, it was
granted and the best of counsel retained. While this was pending many
and great were the anxieties of thousands respecting my future destiny;
nor could I be happy. This procrastination of the trial, and sentence of
decision, was in much mercy, as the mind was borne down with trouble,
company was a burden, and I longed to retire from observation and all
society. This prepared my mind, gradually, for the event; but it was a
suitable season for observation. I watched the motions of many, and
while upon the watch-tower, these words came into my mind—“That the
thoughts of many hearts may be revealed:” and so it was. While many of
the Lord’s people were deeply affected, every sensible and pious
character felt exceedingly for the afflicted church, and daily prayed for
us, especially some ministers of respectability: while the meaner sort of
preachers not only rejoiced, but used their exertions to injure me, some
of whom I formerly had it in my power to punish, but I never did; I
fully, freely forgave them. From March to July I resided a little way
from town, and passed as pleasant a time as circumstances would permit;
only my old plague of a lawyer was continually hunting me for money,
under some pretence or another. I beg leave here to advise all persons
labouring under any sore calamity, to employ a respectable attorney at
once, it will be less expence at the end; and generally the most safe
way.
Every thing was against me, the floods lifted up their voice, the floods
lifted up their waves; and, if the Lord had not supported my mind, at
times, I must have been quite overwhelmed.
Assize time came, and now all was bustle; had an emperor been going to be
tried for his life, surely there could not have been much more confusion,
disputes, meetings, opinions, hopes, fears, and griefs, sincerity and
hypocrisy; but I, partly knowing the mind of God, was prepared for the
event. The committee who had met and consulted so many times before
against me, and whose names, or rather characters, were old Uzzah,
Hananiah, Coriah, Jannes, and Jambres, Phygelles, Hermogenes, Hymenius,
and Alexander the coppersmith; Demetrius the silversmith; Sceva,
Sanballat, and Tobiah, Geshem, and Doeg the Edomite; Shethar, Boznai,
Rabshakeh, Nergal, Shrezar, Samgar, Nebo, Rab Saris, and Rab Mag, {127}
and Haman; a noble company truly! assembled in a certain street, at the
Dung Gate, _Nehemiah_, iii. 14; or rather the religious manufactory.
These rulers of Babylon, being men of power, might, and influence, now
exerted themselves, and although some are so miserable as to grudge
themselves and families the common necessaries of life, yet they freely
parted from their money on this very _important_ occasion. I have heard,
and believe, they used their personal influence with *****, and others,
others the most respectable amongst them, wrote to the learned
Artaxerxes, as in days of old—see _Ezra_, iv. 6 to 16; mark—the persons
who wrote the letter, thy servants on this side the _river Thames_—verse
11. On Friday I delivered my address to the people, from _Psalm_ cxxx.
1. Saturday, during the trial, I shut up myself from all society, and
gave myself up to the will of God; and, by prayer and supplication,
sought his supporting hand. The trial ended as was generally supposed it
would. How could it be otherwise? The lie that was told—the mistake of
the design of the letter—the country at large could not avoid prejudice,
as the nation was inundated with a strong tide of pamphlets and
newspapers, for weeks together; my witnesses were nothing—_one_ had
forgot, and the _other_ could not remember; {128} my old lawyer had not
prepared half the defence to offer to counsel, although he had been so
well paid for it; the trial closed, and I lost the day: and, how great
was the joy of thousands that I had never injured; but they all had an
end to answer. The grief of my best wishers was great, and surely we all
felt the blow most keenly. This gave full scope for opposition,—now,
once more, the tide of scribbling rose, the sound of horns rushing
through every street, Sunday-morning papers were eagerly embraced, posts
running to and fro, hundreds running to stages with papers for country
friends; but, amidst all, I felt the supporting presence of God, which, I
am confident, my triumphant foes did not, nor his approbation neither.
My public labours were now nearly laid aside. I met the congregation in
private, and delivered many addresses to them. I resided at this time a
little way from town, and here the few that knew me treated me with
civility: but, one evening, we were thrown into confusion by a vast mob
assembling before the house, with rough music, an infamous placard, and a
frightful figure, intended as an effigy of me; a large fire was soon
kindled, and it was burnt before the door. After a few shouts were
raised, they departed. Application was made to a magistrate for redress,
but in vain. Some, for less crimes, would have taken away the licence of
the house they met at; but I say no more. This was attended with some
good to me. It opened another door in providence, in which I was enabled
to see my friends. The above circumstance hurt my mind a little; but, in
answer to prayer, these words came into my mind—“Fear not, no man shall
set on thee to hurt thee, for I am with thee.”
As to burning my effigy, I found they had done that to some good men,
whose shoe latchets I am not worthy to loose. Mr. Huntington relates, in
his “Naked Bow of God,” page 280—“However, our adversaries meeting with
more encouragement than us, we were attended home by them, with their
hats adorned with ribbons; and, on their arrival, the whole parish
appeared in triumph: the bells were immediately rung, and my little
cottage was beset on all sides. My effigy then was made and burnt, a
blasphemous harangue delivered, as a funeral sermon, over this figure of
straw and rags, and abominable impudence was sung in imitation of a
funeral anthem. Upon this one and all cried out, they were for the High
Church; and, indeed, none could properly doubt of that, who saw the
height of their wickedness; for, had they been Turks, or Pagans, they
would have been ashamed of such conduct.”
I acknowledge this treatment was for preaching the gospel; and I beg
leave also to remark, that had I not preached the gospel, there would
never have been so much opposition to me. But some of my holy
adversaries in the religious world justify such unscriptural means; and,
in order to put a gloss on their cruelty, will tell you it is done for
the lord’s honor.
The excellent laws of the country have a just right to punish offenders;
but it is our mercy the sword is not in the hands of certain reverends,
or else woe be to those whom their reverences choose to denominate
Antinomians. Such priests and levites not only pass by a poor man that
has fallen amongst thieves, but they cruelly cast heavy stones at him,
and employ others to do the same. I beg leave here to present you with
an account of the same persecuting spirit that actuated a mob at
Richmond, in the year 1774. Take the circumstance as related in the
“Gospel Magazine,” page 214, vol. I.—
“Monday evening last, a most numerous mob assembled, each with a
bludgeon in his hand, and Mr. B— at their head, to the no small
terror of our friends, some of whom B— abused very much, and even
declared he would shortly hang their very persons up before their own
doors. They went in procession through the town, with one C—, in
heavy fetters, whom they named rev. R. H. They proceeded to a mock
trial of him for defrauding a linen-draper of £200. After they had
condemned him to be hanged on the Wednesday following, they ordered
him to be chained down, &c. They went to several houses, where they
had beer and money given them. I believe they did not go to the
honorable magistrate’s house, nor will I dare to say that his clerk
gave them any money, yet he has been very busy in those affairs at
times. On Wednesday evening they assembled again, with the culprit
in the cart, in the exact posture of an actual criminal going to be
hanged; a book in his left hand, his eyes lifted up to heaven, and
saying a blasphemous prayer as he went along. They proceeded to the
meeting-house, opposite to which a gallows was erected in the
morning, where, after singing a hymn, and offering up a blasphemous
prayer, the culprit was turned off, with the rope about his arms,
though some will have it that the effigy only was hung up, yet I
think I can believe my eyes beyond what they say. They swore that if
any of the Methodists came there they would have their blood. We
hope that some effectual methods will be taken against them; for I do
assure you, Sir, till something be done, we are not safe in our beds;
our houses are often attacked in the night, and we are not safe as we
go to business, in open day, by reason of large stones being thrown
at us, as we walk the streets. I believe, if we were rebels, or had
betrayed our country we should be more valued here than we are now;
and that only because we would meet to worship our God, honour our
king, pray for him and his, and wish peace and prosperity to our
country, &c.”
But God meant that unto good; for, a little while after, in the same
magazine, we read, page 311—
“Sunday last, the young man who was desperately wounded, in
protecting some of the audience from the insults of the rabble, at
Richmond, publicly renounced the errors of the Church of Rome, at the
Methodist meeting-house in that town, and embraced the Protestant
Faith, as held by the Established Church of England.”
What a mercy to be protected in our civil and religious privileges! God
be praised for a Protestant king and parliament, and for the excellent
laws of our land. Amen and amen,
Yours, J. C.
LETTER XXVI.
“And thou shalt go even to Babylon, and there shalt thou be
delivered.”—_Micah_, iii. 9 to close.
To —
The painful business was now to be brought to a final issue. I judged,
before-hand, how it would terminate—as these words followed me wherever I
went—“And Paul dwelt two whole years in his own hired house, and received
all that came to him.” The decision was appointed for the 6th of
November; but, in consequence of the death of the much-lamented Princess
Charlotte, it was postponed. A more gloomy month, I think, I never knew,
especially the 18th when the solemn church bells minutely tolled for that
amiable character’s funeral.
On Sunday morning, the 23rd, I preached my farewell sermon, on _Micah_,
vii.—“Rejoice not against me, Oh, mine enemy; though I fall, I shall
rise; though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me.” I
bade an affectionate farewell to my friends, nor did I prove a false
prophet, as thousands have witnessed. Samson’s locks have grown again,
and John the Baptist has risen from the dead.
The next day, in God’s strength, I went to Westminster-hall, and received
my sentence. I had provided many things to address the court with, and
could have put in fifteen affidavits, but I was advised by counsel not to
speak a word, but quietly submit to the sentence, which I did; and, as
soon as it was passed, my heart was at liberty, which it had not
experienced for one year and three months before.—Newspapers and
scribblers have asserted, it was pronounced to the great joy of the
court, and gave great satisfaction;—but, if a rude rabble can be called a
court, I am mistaken. And, alas! what is noisy breath! the applause of
such mortals! when only about three weeks after, the same rabble had the
daring impudence to hiss the very judge, on the same spot, in the matter
of Hone! As in days of old, when the public cried “Hosanna!” one day,
and in four days more, “Crucify him, crucify him!” So much for public
applause or resentment.
In some cases we may truly say—
Careless, myself, a dying man,
Of dying man’s esteem;
Happy, O God, if thou approve,
Though all the world condemn.
I arrived safe at Achor Vale, and glad enough I was to rest from the long
strife. I was delivered from the noise of the archers, the sounding of
the mountains, and the horns of rams blown by goats, the braying of
asses, and the grumbling of bears.
A variety of select portions of scripture, which had been applied to me
some time before, came seasonably into my mind, and I found the Lord
faithful to his word.
The idea of a prison had often struck me with horror; but I have always
found, through many changes, we want a mind to our situation—as we shall
never get a situation fully to our minds till we get to heaven. When I
arrived, every fear respecting my treatment was banished; gloomy as it
had appeared, all was to the contrary. I was received with the greatest
civility by the unhappy company I met with there. A young man who had
been an officer’s servant, proffered his services to wait on me, and
rendered me very comfortable. The kind governor gave me one of the best
rooms, and permitted me to have every convenience for sleeping I could
desire, and all the books I chose to send for.—This alleviated my mind;
and, altogether, at times I was nearly distracted with grief, the Lord
held me up, kept me in my senses, and blest me in my soul.
I cannot help here remarking, that, many months previous to this, I had
dreamed of the very room I was put into, with the kind attention of my
wife, who had not long been dead at the time I had the dream, and which
was, I believe, two years before the trouble took place. But this was
allotted to another, who was very kind and attentive on that painful
occasion. A variety of most distressing thoughts, at times, overwhelmed
me. A separation from the house of God, the perplexities of the church,
the hypocrisy of some of the preachers, the grief of my family, the loss
of liberty, the company around me, the joy of my foes, and fearing the
truth should suffer by my supposed and reported faults, with the length
of time appointed me—these things, it was natural to suppose, must have
created the most poignant distress. The many months before me seemed so
many years; but this led me to reflect on an eternity of joy or woe, the
final doom of the righteous and the wicked. _Eternity_! _Eternity_!—a
pleasing and dreadful thought. This brought to my mind the solemn
description of eternity, us written by the excellent Ralph Erskine, in
his “Description of the Misery of the Wicked.” “Gospel Sonnets,” p. 62.—
“Ah I must I live in torturing despair,
As many years as atoms in the air;
When these are spent, as many thousands more,
As grains of sand which crowd the ebbing shore;
When these are done, as many yet behind,
As leaves of forest, shaken with the wind;
When these are done, as many to ensue,
As stems of grass on hills and dales that grew;
When these run out, as many on the march,
As starry lamps that gild the spangled arch;
When these expire, as many millions more,
As moments in the million, past before;
When all these doleful years are spent in pain,
And multiplied by myriads again?—
’Tis numbers drown the thought. Could I suppose,
That then my wretched years were at a close,
This would afford some ease; but, ah! I shiver,
To think upon the dreadful sound—_for ever_.”
But, as interested in the love of God, pardoned by the great atonement,
and justified by the meritorious obedience of the adorable God-man
Mediator; called out of darkness, and divinely influenced and kept by the
power of God, the holy making Spirit, we shall enjoy a long, a blest
eternity of joy, at the right hand of God. The thought is delightful.
What will the joy be?—_Hold out faith and patience_.
Yours, truly, J. C.
LETTER XXVII.
“Like these good figs, will I acknowledge them that are carried away
captive of Judah, whom I have sent out of this place into the land of
the Chaldeans, for their good.”
To —
The eventful history of the church of Israel is very striking and
important. _Loved_, _chosen in Egypt_, _delivered_, brought into a
desert wilderness; yet maintained miraculously, screened, preserved,
brought through the Jordan of trouble into the promised land; enemies
falling before them; privileged with the symbols of the Divine presence,
and kept by Divine power.
How very important is the language of Moses on this subject. He found
him in a desert land, and in a waste howling wilderness; he led him
about; he instructed him; he kept him as the apple of his eye; but, alas!
what a rebellious, unbelieving, perverse, fretful, and ungrateful people,
prone to idolatry, negligent, and disobedient: such, alas! am I.