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._
“DEAR SIR,—I hope this will find you and the rest of our
friends well. This morning the Rector sent for me. He told me
he had heard I had returned to my former strict way of life,
and that he must acquaint my father with it. I desired, he
would come to particulars, and said, that where I was wrong I
should be glad to be set right. He said, I looked thin, and
feared I would hurt myself by rigorous fasting. I told him,
I dined in the hall on Wednesdays, and that I eat bread and
butter on Friday mornings. He was pretty well satisfied with
this account. He advised me to take something else instead of
tea after fasting, which I promised to do. His next charge was
not sitting in the common room. I said, I intended to sit there
three nights every week, which he thought was sufficient. I
unguardedly told him that, if it were agreeable to him, I would
dine in the hall even on Fridays. He very much approved of this
proposal, and said, I might observe any other day as a fast
instead of it. I believe, if I would go into the hall on fast
days, all my other actions would be less taken notice of, and
I should put it out of the Rector’s or Mr. Hutchin’s power to
make any complaints of me to my father. If I could be sure of
not injuring religion by my example, I believe I might comply
with the Rector herein, for, you are very sensible, I might
notwithstanding observe the same degree of abstinence even
on those days. I depend on the advice of my friends in this
affair, and hope God will sanctify it to me. The Gospel tells
us, that the children of God must suffer persecution from
the world; but the Rector says, we must endeavour to have our
persons in esteem, and those things wherein we differ from the
world we must do privately. We must take care our good be not
evil spoken of. Though the Church enjoins fasting, yet, because
the bishops, the pillars of the Church, do not observe it,
it loses its force. When he finds his blood hot, he says, he
fasts, but unknown to anybody. He thinks it is a relative duty,
and not confined to any particular time. He looks upon it only
as a remedy against unchastity, and, if we are not troubled
with this passion, I suppose, not obligatory. He advised me
to read such books as were genteel accomplishments. I have,
through God’s assistance, in some degree, seen my own weakness,
by the effects of this anti-Christian doctrine, for it has
quite discomposed me, though I was enabled to see the fallacy
of it. I see nothing so well qualified to destroy my soul, to
make me eternally miserable, as the conversation of temporizing
Christians, which, I hope, by your advice and other means, God
will prevent, as I am sure He will, if I am faithful to Him.
“When I desire your advice in this affair, I only desire you to
prevent my eternal damnation; for it is in the greatest danger
from this most subtle, deceitful, and dangerous of all enemies.
Oh that I could express to you the danger I foresee from this
enemy! My eyes and my heart alone could; but these you cannot
see. May God enable you to comprehend it, and to do all that
is in your power to prevent it! You cannot sufficiently arm
me against the Rector. I suspect him of insincerity to you. I
want to know whether you ever did. I believe, and Mr. Horn is
of the same opinion, that my going to Ireland depends on my
going into the hall on fast days. The Rector said as much as if
you frightened others from religion by your example; and that
you might have done a great deal of good, if you had been less
strict, which I would be glad to be undeceived in, and to know
whether the example of a thorough mortified Christian, though
it would give the greatest offence, would not do more than that
of a plausible Christian, who would give no offence at all.
This is a point of great importance to me.
“It has pleased God to let me see that I can make no progress
in religion till I have acquired some sense of the misery and
nothingness of human nature, and of our entire dependence
on Him. Though I go into the common room to avoid a greater
evil,—though I would not live the life of those who spend their
time there for all the world,—though I am scarcely capable
of doing anything which is more disagreeable to me,—yet the
poison is not removed. While I am with them, I love my sense,
my judgment, my reason. It is true, I am all the time in pain;
but I cannot say, at that time, they lead an un-Christian,
dangerous life. I believe it is for want of faith, and for not
looking upon it as a great blessing, since it is not my own
choice. I want to know how to remove this delusion, and how to
make an advantage of that which God no doubt intended for my
good. If I do not make a use of this cross, I am satisfied it
will be the ruin of me.
“Oh lay this to your heart, and make my case your own. Do not
think you can spend your time better than in answering this
letter. I hope you will not forget to pray to God to enable
me to follow you wherever it is His will, and never to omit
putting me in mind of it when you write to me.
“Mr. Robson is in a dangerous way. He is convinced of the
necessity of being a Christian, but cannot leave the world.
Mr. Carter, I fear, is not steady. Mr. Hervey is gone. Mr.
Broughton is not yet returned. If he go to Georgia, it is best.”
This is a curious letter,—not remarkable for either intelligence or
scholarship; but it partly unfolds the character of its writer; reveals
some of the difficulties of the collegiate life of the Oxford Methodists;
shows the importance which they attached to fasts; and points to Wesley
as the leader of the religious brotherhood.
The Wesleys had left Oxford; but, for a time at least, Charles Morgan
and Mr. Broughton carried on the work which they and the elder Morgan
had commenced. Charles Morgan undertook the care of Bocardo, which he
visited three days every week. He read an hour every other day, at the
house of Mr. Fox, in the Catechism of the Bishop of the Isle of Man; and,
in the same place, held a meeting every Sunday night with “a cheerful
number of Christians.” “The Lord’s kingdom,” he writes, November 27,
1735, “increaseth apace; and I find-more and more comfort in the holy
Scriptures every day.”
Our information concerning Robert Kirkham, William Morgan, and his
younger brother Charles, is exhausted. As Oxford Methodists, they deserve
notice; but, so far as is ascertained, they were of comparatively
little use either to the Church or to the world. William Morgan had no
opportunity for _public_ usefulness; and Robert Kirkham and Charles
Morgan drift away into the great ocean of existence, and leave no track
behind them.