“By thee inspired, we learn each tuneful art,
To raise the passions, or improve the heart;
The mystic union of the sounding strings,
The wondrous commerce of the secret springs,
Whence social joy, and sympathetic pain,
And friendship’s force, and love’s eternal reign.
...
With all the mighty charms by heaven designed,
To raise the bliss of every godlike mind,
In love concentring, from that image bright,
The fairest mirror of th’ Eternal light.”
“He concludes,” says Dr. Clarke, “his ungodly advices to his godly son,
in these words:—
“Instructed thus, may’st thou a temple raise,
More glorious far than that of ancient days;
The work of wisdom, and of virtue fair,
With strength and beauty built beyond compare;
By reason’s perfect rule, and nature’s scale,
Which God’s whole order may to man reveal;
Where all things tend, and whence they all began,
Of His machinery the wondrous plan.”
The date of the death of the last of Hall’s legitimate offspring has not
been recorded; but his memory was embalmed, and his father’s gibbeted,
by his uncle, Charles Wesley, in a poetical pamphlet, entitled “Funeral
Hymns,” published in 1759, pp. 70. The tenth of these hymns is devoted
entirely to the son, and is exquisitely beautiful; the eleventh is a
withering invective against the apostate father. The following is a copy:—
“Rest, happy saint, with God secure,
Lodged in the bosom of the Lamb;
Thy joy is full, thy state is sure,
Through all eternity the same;
The heavenly doors have shut thee in,
The mighty gulf is fixed between.
“Thy God forbade the son to bear
The father’s wickedness below:
And O! thou canst not suffer there
His foul reproach, his guilty woe,
His fearful doom thou canst not feel,
Or fall, like him, from heaven to hell.
“That tender sense of infant grace,
(Extinct in him,) which dwelt in thee,
Nor sin, nor Satan can efface:
From pain and grief for ever free,
Thou canst not now his fall deplore,
Or pray for one that prays no more.
“Yet may thy last expiring prayer,
For a lost parent’s soul, prevail,
And move the God of love to spare,
To arrest him, at the mouth of hell:
O God of love, Thine ear incline,
And save a soul that once was Thine!
“Thou didst his heaven-born spirit draw,
Thou didst his child-like heart inspire,
And fill with love’s profoundest awe;
Though now inflamed with hellish fire,
He dares Thy favourite Son blaspheme,
And hates the God that died for him.
“Commissioned by the dying God,
Blessed with a powerful ministry,
The world he pointed to Thy blood,
And turned whole multitudes to Thee;
Others he saved, himself a prey
To hell, an hopeless castaway.
“Murderer of souls, Thou knowest, he lives.
(Poor souls for whom Thyself hast died,)
His dreadful punishment receives,
And bears the mark of sullen pride;
And furious lusts his bosom tear,
And the dire worm of sad despair.
“Condemned, like haggard Cain, to rove,
By Satan and himself pursued,
Apostate from redeeming love,
Abandoned to the curse of God;
Thou hear’st the vagabond complain,
Loud howling, while he bites his chain.
“But O, Thou righteous God, how long
Shall Thy vindictive anger last?
Canst Thou not yet forgive the wrong,
Bid all his penal woes be past?
All power, all mercy as Thou art,
O break his adamantine heart!
“Before the yawning cavern close
Its mouth on its devoted prey,
Thou, who hast died to save Thy foes,
Thy death’s omnipotence display;
And snatch from that eternal fire,
And let him in Thy arms expire.”
It would be an odious task to relate all the details of Westley Hall’s
sad apostasy. Suffice to say, that he, at length, went off to the West
Indies with one of his concubines, lived there with her till she died,
and then returned to England, where, professing penitential sorrow, he
was cordially received by his incomparable wife, who showed him every
Christian attention till his death, which took place at Bristol, on
January 3, 1776; some of his last words being, “I have injured an angel!
an angel that never reproached me!” Wesley writes:—
“1776, January 2—Tuesday. I set out early” from London, “and
came just time enough not to see, but to bury poor Mr. Hall,
my brother-in-law, who died on Wednesday morning, I trust,
in peace; for God had given him deep repentance. Such another
monument of Divine mercy, considering how low he had fallen,
and from what height of holiness, I have not seen, no, not in
seventy years! I had designed to visit him in the morning; but
he did not stay for my coming. It is enough, if, after all his
wanderings, we meet again in Abraham’s bosom.”
“_Requiescat in pace!_” And yet, justice demands that a word more be
added. The fact cannot be denied, that, in many instances, the faults
of husbands may be traced to the tempers, frailties, and follies of
their wives. A bad wife often makes a good husband bad. Was this the
fact in the case of Westley Hall? Did the man who, at Oxford, was so
pre-eminently holy, become a licentious infidel through the misbehaviour
of his wife? This is not a memoir of “Patty” Hall; but to be entirely
silent concerning her might create suspicion, that, she was not
unblamable in her connubial life. Hence, even at the expense of returning
to the dunghill of Westley Hall’s disgusting wickedness, a few more facts
must be stated.
Assuming Martha Wesley to have been aware, that, Westley Hall had
proposed marriage to her sister Kezziah, and had jilted her, it was a
huge, seriously censurable imprudence for her to become his wife; but
that being said, there is not another fact to be told against her. What
was her behaviour to one of the worst of husbands?
The seduction of the seamstress has been already mentioned. Mrs. Hall
knew nothing of her husband’s criminality till the poor girl actually
fell in labour. Hall had gone from home; his wife instantly ordered
her other servants to call in a doctor. The servants refused. She
remonstrated with them on their inhumanity. They completed her surprise
by telling her the seamstress was in labour through her criminal
connection with their master. The poor wife was terribly wounded; but
the life of her husband’s paramour was in danger. The servants refused
to stir, and she herself had to bring in a midwife. Her purse contained
six pounds. Five of these she gave to a neighbour to look after the
adulterous young mother; with the other pound, she went off to seek her
worthless husband, who had designedly gone to London; mildly told him
what had happened, and actually persuaded him to return to Salisbury
as soon as the young woman and her child could be removed to another
dwelling.
Another instance must be given. One day, Hall had the shameful inhumanity
to bring home one of his illegitimate infants, and to order his wife to
take charge of it. Will it be believed, that “Patty” actually brought out
her cradle, placed the bastard babe in it, and continued to perform for
it all that its helplessness required!
Was the woman demented? or a good-tempered silly fool, without any
self-respect, and without the least idea of what was due unto herself?
Not so; but just the opposite. As a proof of this, the following may be
given:—
While nursing the illegitimate child just mentioned, her own charming
boy, Wesley Hall, displeased his father, who had as little government
of his temper as of his passions. In a rage, the father thrust his son
into a dark closet, and locked him up. The poor boy was terrified to
distraction. His mother, with her usual calmness, desired her husband to
release the child. He refused. She entreated; but he was resolute. “Sir,”
said she, at length thoroughly aroused; “Sir, thank the grace of God,
that, while _my_ child is thus cruelly treated, suffering to distraction
a punishment he has not merited, I had not turned _your_ babe out of
the cradle; but now I _demand_, that you will immediately unlock the
closet and release the child, or, if you refuse, I myself will do it.”
The miserable poltroon succumbed, and the little prisoner regained his
liberty. There was more in this than female firmness. Caitiff as he was,
Hall had exercised the authority of a father, and his wife did her utmost
not to set aside that authority; wishing, with true philosophy, that the
lips which had pronounced the sentence might pronounce also its repeal.
The woman, taking and maintaining this position, was the very opposite of
a senseless, insipid household drudge, without either mind or manners, a
very slave to some selfish brute who unfortunately rules over her.
If “Patty” Wesley,—we are reluctant to call her “Patty” Hall,—erred
at all, it was on the side of fidelity to her worthless husband, and
of kindness to his wretched mistresses. “How could you give money to
your husband’s concubine?” asked her brother Charles. “I knew,” she
answered, “that _I_ could obtain what I wanted from many; but she, poor
hapless creature, could not. _Pity_ is due to the wicked, the good claim
_esteem_. Besides, I did not act as a _woman_, but as a _Christian_.”
Notwithstanding all her bad treatment, this incomparable wife was never
heard to speak of her husband but with kindness. Two extracts from her
letters will show both her feelings and good sense, under circumstances
the most trying to a female mind:—
“Being convinced, that, I cannot possibly oblige you any
longer, by anything I can say or do, I have determined to rid
you of so useless a burden, as soon as it shall please God
to give me an opportunity. If you have so much humanity left
for a wife, who has lived so many years with you, as to allow
anything toward a maintenance, I will thank you.”
“I conjure you to tell what fatal delusion could make me offend
a person whom, of all creatures upon earth, I desired most to
please. I shall be exceedingly obliged to you, if you will be
so good as to satisfy me in this particular. But, be that as
it may, whether you think fit to grant or deny my request,
one thing I must inform you of, which is, that, I never can,
so long as I am in my senses, wilfully bring any evil upon
you. No, death itself does not appear so shocking to me, as
endeavouring to lay you under any other obligation than those
of conscience and honour. For which reason, I design to put
myself again absolutely in your power. If you make a kind use
of that power, I shall thank God and you. If not, the time is
very short that I can stay on this side the grave; and in the
same sentiments that I have lived, I trust, it will be given me
to die.”
It is hardly necessary to give further details of this memorable woman.
Enough has been said, to show, that, Westley Hall’s infamous behaviour
was not owing to the character or conduct of his wife. We only add an
extract from a manuscript, now before us, written by her niece, Miss
Sarah Wesley, with whom she lived on the most loving and confidential
terms. Miss Wesley, daughter of Charles, observes:—
“Dr. Johnson was an early friend of hers; to her my father
owed his acquaintance with the Doctor, and I, the honour of
his favour. I used to accompany her to Bolt Court, and had the
privilege of hearing their discourse.
“Her whole character was eminent for magnanimity and
tenderness. When her unfortunate husband contended for the
lawfulness of polygamy, and acted on his erroneous principles,
in all her expostulations, she never lost her command of
language, or gave him a reproachful word.
“She was particularly distinguished with favour, by my
grandmother, for her docile and tranquil spirit; and her
brothers and sisters nick-named her the patient _Grisele_.
Such was her attachment to my uncle John, that, if she was
in any pain or trouble in her infant days, the sight of him
would instantly cheer her. I never heard of so strong an
affection, which lasted toward him through life. My grandmother
once entered the room, where the children were in high glee
and frolic, and said, ‘Ah, you will all, one day, be more
thoughtful, as you grow in years.’ Martha replied, ‘Shall I be
more thoughtful?’ ‘No,’ said her mother. Indeed, by all that
I have heard, she was born a philosopher, and preferred her
mother’s chamber to sports or recreations, which naturally
endeared her to the parent, whom she almost idolized.
“Were I to relate the instances of her kindness to me, I
could fill a book. No parent’s love could exceed hers. It was
a joyful day whenever I was to spend it with her. Even my
brothers looked forward with delightful anticipation, when her
weekly visit was to be paid us (for one day of the week was
appropriated by my father to receive her). Her conversation so
far resembled my uncle’s, that, children idolized her; and her
memory, to the last, supplied the place of books. She had the
best of our poets by heart; and her mode of giving advice was
so gentle, that offence could not be taken. Her compassion and
charity to the poor were such, that, my father used to say, it
was needless to give anything to Pat for her own comfort; she
always gave it away to some beggar, and forgot herself.
“I was with her at her death. Composed and tranquil, she
reasoned about every pain, as occasioning it, with the same
serenity she would have spoken of common things. She had no
disease, but the springs of life were worn out. A little before
her departure, she called me to her bedside, and said, ‘You
have heard me wish for assurance,’ (of happiness, she meant),
‘I have it now. Shout!’ and died!”
Mrs. Hall was the last survivor of the Wesley family,—her father, mother,
brothers, and sisters having all died before her. In the _Gentleman’s
Magazine_ for 1791, there is the following obituary notice.
“_1791. July 12_, in the City Road, in her eighty-fourth year,
Mrs. Martha Hall, widow of the Rev. Mr. H., and last surviving
sister of the Rev. John and Charles Wesley. She was equally
distinguished by piety, understanding, and sweetness of temper.
Her sympathy for the wretched, and her bounty, even to the
worthless, will eternize her memory in better worlds than this.”
Her remains are interred in the same vault as those of her brother John,
in the burial ground of his chapel, in City Road, London.
Our story of the Oxford Methodists is ended.