1727

To his Mother

LINCOLN COLLEGE, January 25, 1727.

DEAR MOTHER, -- I am shortly to take my Master's degree. [He took his M.A. on Feb. 14, gaining considerable reputation by his disputation for the degree. He told Henry Moore that he delivered three lectures: De Anima Brutorum, on Natural Philosophy; De Julio Caesare, on Moral Philosophy; and De Amore Dei, on Religion.] As I shall from that time be less interrupted by business not of my own choosing, I have drawn up for myself a scheme of studies from, which I do not intend, for some years at least, to very. I am perfectly come over to your opinion that there are many truths it is not worth while to know. Curiosity, indeed, might be a sufficient plea for our laying out some time upon them, if we had half a dozen centuries of life to come; but methinks it is great ill-husbandry to spend a considerable part of the small pittance now allowed us in what makes us neither a quick nor a sure return.

Two days ago I was reading a dispute between those celebrated masters of controversy, Bishop Atterbury and Bishop Hoadly [Atterbury preached a funeral sermon (on Thomas Bennet the bookseller) from 1 Cor. xv. 19, 'If in this life only . . .' He argued that, were there no life after this, men would be more miserable than beasts, and the best men often the most miserable. Hoadly disputed the interpretation of the text. Atterbury replied: Hoadly retorted. Atterbury preached another sermon on Charity (I Pet. iv. 8). Again Hoadly criticized at length. A concise account of the controversies may be read in the latest life of Atterbury by Canon Beeching, 1909, PP. 44-5. A fuller account is given in Hunt's Religious Thought in England, iii. 78-9. 'Coming from a High Churchman, at a time when most divines were eloquent on the natural rewards of virtue and religion, Atterbury's doctrine was startling.' For Wesley's interpretation, see his Notes upon the New Testament. See also previous letter.]; but must own I was so injudicious as to break off in the middle. I could not conceive that the dignity of the end was at all proportioned to the difficulty of attaining it. And I thought the labor of twenty or thirty hours, if I was sure of succeeding, which I was not, would be but ill rewarded by that important piece of knowledge whether Bishop Hoadly had misunderstood Bishop Atterbury or no.

About a year and an half ago I stole out of company at eight in the evening with a young gentleman with whom I was intimate. As we took a turn in an aisle of St. Mary's Church in expectation of a young lady's funeral, [ We are not able to trace the young lady friend whose funeral Wesley attended about Midsummer, 1725 at St. Mary’s Oxford. The registers give no age or place of residence, butit is a choice between the following: -- 1725: March 30, Mary Gunn; June 30, Eliza Carter; August 10, Martha Brown; August 28 Mary Downs; Octoboer 28 Ann Williams. The vicar was Thomas Weeksy. We owe these details to the courtesy of the verger, Mr. Chaundy. Probably it was Eliza Carter.] with whom we were both acquainted, I asked him if he really thought himself my friend; and if he did, why he would not do me all the good he could. He began to protest; in which I cut him short by desiring him to oblige me in an instance which he could not deny to be in his own power -- to let me have the pleasure of making him an whole Christian, to which I knew he was at least half persuaded already; that he could not do me a greater kindness, as both of us would be fully convinced when we came to follow that young woman.

He turned exceedingly serious, and kept something of that disposition ever since. Yesterday was a fortnight, he died of a consumption. I saw him three days before he died; and, on the Sunday following, did him the last good office I could here, by preaching his funeral sermon; which was his desire when living. [See the following letter. Robin Griffiths, son of the Vicar of Broadway, died Jan. 10, 1727. The sermon, on 2 Sam. xii. 23, is given in the Arminian Mag. 2797, PP. 422-6; see Journal. i. 62.]

To his Mother [1]

LINCOLN COLLEGE, March 19, 1727.

DEAR MOTHER, -- One advantage at least my degree has given me: I am now at liberty, and shall be in a great measure for some time, to choose my own employment; and as I believe I know my own deficiencies best and which of them are most necessary to be supplied, I hope my time will turn to somewhat better account than when it was not so much in my own disposal.

On Saturday next I propose beginning an entirely different life, with relation to the management of my expenses, from what I have hitherto done. I expect then to receive a sum of money, [Probably from his Fellowship, at which time he may have received some allowance. See letter of Dec. 6, 1726.] and intend immediately to call in all my creditors' bills (that they may not grow by lying by, as it sometimes happens), and from that time forward to trust no man, of what sort or trade so ever, so far as to let him trust me.

Dear mother, I speak what I know: my being little and weak, whereas had it not been for a strange concurrence of accidents (so called in the language of men) I should very probably have been just the reverse, I can easily account for; 'I can readily trace the wisdom and mercy of Providence in allotting me these imperfections. (Though what if I could not since, while I look through a glass, I can only expect to see darkly.) But here the difficulty was likely to lie: Why would Infinite Goodness permit me to contract an habit of sin, even before I knew it to be sinful, which has been a thorn in my side almost ever since ‘How can I skill of these Thy ways' so well, that I am verily persuaded, had it not been for that sinful habit, I had scarce ever acquired any degree of any virtuous one ['How can I skill of these Thy ways ' is adapted from George Herbert's The Temple, ' Justice.' See Wesley's edition, 1773, P. 19. The poem begins: ‘I cannot skill of these Thy ways,’ and ends ‘I cannot skill of these my ways.’] Is not this the finger of God Surely none else could have extracted so much good from evil! surely it was mercy not to hear my prayer!

The conversation of one or two persons whom you may have heard me speak of (I hope never without gratitude) first took off my relish for most other pleasures .so far that I despised them in comparison of that. From thence I have since proceeded a step farther to slight them absolutely. And I am so little at present in love with even company, the most elegant entertainment next books, that unless they have a peculiar turn of thought I am much better pleased without them. I think 'tis the settled temper of my soul that I should prefer, at least for some time, such a retirement as would seclude me from all the world to the station I am now in. Not that the latter is by any means unpleasant; but I imagine it would be more improving to be in a place where I might confirm or implant in my mind what habits I would without interruption before the flexibility of youth is over, than to stay where, among many advantages, I lie under the inconvenience of being almost necessarily exposed to much impertinence and vanity.

A school in Yorkshire, forty miles from Doncaster, was proposed to me lately, on which I shall think more when it appears whether I may have it or no. A good salary is annexed to it; so that in a year's time 'tis probable all my debts would be paid, and I should have money beforehand. But what has made me wish for it most is the frightful description, as they call it, some gentlemen who know the place gave me of it yesterday. The town (Skipton-in-Craven) [The Grammar School at Skiptonin-Craven was founded in 1548 by William Ermystead, Canon of St. Paul's, London. See Potts's Liber Cantabrigiensis, p. 523.] lies in a little vale, so pent up between two hills that it is scarce accessible on any side; so that you can expect little company from without, and within there is none at all. I should therefore be entirely at liberty to converse with companions of my own choosing, whom for that reason I would bring with me; and company equally agreeable, wherever I fixed, could not put me to less expense.

The sun that walks his airy way

To cheer the world and bring the day;

The moon that shines with borrowed light;

The stars that grid the gloomy night,-

All of these, and all I see,

Should be sung, and sung by me:

These praise their Maker as they can,

But want and ask the tongue of man. [Parnell's A Hymn to Contentment; where the second line reads ' To light the world and give the day.]

The text of that sermon I preached on the Sunday following Mr. Griffiths's death was, ' Now he is dead, wherefore should I fast can I bring him back again I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.' [See previous letter.] I never gave more reason to suspect my doctrine did not agree with my practice; for a sickness and pain in my stomach, attended with a violent looseness, which seized me the day he was buried, altered me so much in three days, and made me look so pale and thin, that those who saw me could not but observe it.

A letter from my sister Emly, my brother tells me, was brought to my chamber the other day; but wherever the fellow laid it, I have not been able to set eyes upon it from that time to this. I am full of business; but have found a way to write without taking any time from that. 'Tis but rising an hour sooner in a morning and going into company an hour later in 'the evening; both which may be done without any inconvenience. [For an account of his early rising. see the sermon on Redeeming' the Time in Works, vii. 69.] My brother has got the other side away from me. -- I am

Your affectionate, dutiful Son.

I return you thanks for your thoughts on Zeal, and my sister Emly for hers on--I know not what; however, I am persuaded they were very good. My love attends my other sisters. I should have said brother Charles' too; for now he has a live manhood. [There is a tear in the letter which makes the last two words difficult to decipher. ' Live manhood ' seems to be the expression. Charles was now nineteen. He had been elected to Christ Church in April 1726, and was now with his brother, no longer a schoolboy, but enjoying his live ‘manhood.’]

Editor's Introductory Notes

[1] Mrs. Wesley replied to this letter on May 14. John had been accustomed to sign himself ‘Your dutiful Son’; now he subscribes himself ‘Your affectionate, dutiful Son.’ Here is his mother's comment: ‘Dear Son, the conclusion of your letter is very kind. That you were ever dutiful, I very well know. But I know myself enough to rest satisfied with a moderate degree of your affection. Indeed, it would be unjust in me to desire the love of any one. Your prayers I want and wish; nor shall I cease while I live to beseech Almighty God to bless you. Adieu.’

Edited by Michael Mattei 2000 Wesley Center for Applied Theology. All rights reserved. No for-profit use of this text is permitted without the express, written consent of the Wesley Center for Applied Theology of Northwest Nazarene College, Nampa, Idaho 83686 USA. Contact the webmaster for permisson.