murdered, have their houses broke open, their goods destroyed, or carried away before their face and all this in open day, in the face of the sun, yet without any remedy! And those who treat them thus are charitable men! Brimfull of a Christian spirit! But if they who are so treated, appeal to the common sense and reason of mankind, you gravely cry, "See the uncharitable, the unchristian spirit of Methodism !" 10. You proceed. "But pray, what are those facts, which you say are not misrepresented? Do you mean, that Butler was hired and paid by the corporation and clergy? Or that this remarkable loyal city, is disaffected to the present government? And that a papist was supported, nay, hired by the chief magistrates, to walk the streets, threatening bloodshed and murder? Declare openly, whether these are the facts." Sir, I understand you well. But for the present, I beg to be excused. There is a time and a place for all things. 11. I rejoice to hear the city of Cork is so "remarkably loyal!" So entirely "well-affected to the present government." I presume you mean this chiefly of" The Friendly Society," (in whom the power of the city is now lodged,) erected some time since, in opposition to that body of Jacobites, commonly called, "The Hanover Club." I suppose that zealous Anti-methodist, who some days ago, stabbed the Methodist preacher in the street, and then cried out, Damn king George, and all his armies!' did this as a specimen of his eminent loyalty. It cannot be denied, that this loyal subject of king George (Simon Rawlins, by name) was upon oath made of those words, committed to gaol, on May the 31st. And it was not till days after, that he walked in procession through the town, with drums beating, and colours flying, and declared at the head of his mob, He would never rest, till he had driven all these false prophets out of Cork.' How sincere they were in their good wishes to king George and his armies, they gave a clear proof the tenth of this instant, June: when, as ten or twelve soldiers were walking along, in a very quiet and inoffensive manner, the mob fell upon them, swore they would have their lives, knocked them down, and beat them to such a degree, that on June the 12th, one of them died of his wounds, and another was not then expected to live many hours. 12. But you have more proofs of my uncharitableness, that is, supposing I am the author of that pamphlet. For you read there, Riches, ease, and honour, are what the clergy set their hearts upon. But the souls for whom Christ died, they leave to the tender mercies of hell.' Sir, Can you deny it? Is it not true? Literally true, concerning some of the clergy? You ask, "But ought we to condemn all, for the faults of a few?" (p. 20.) I answer, No; no more than I will condemn all, in the affair of Cork, for the faults of a few. It is you that do this. And if it were as you say, if they were all concerned in the late proceedings, then it would be no uncharitableness to say, 'They were in a miserable state indeed.' Then they would doubtless be kicking against the pricks, contending with heaven, fighting against God.' 13. I come now to the general charge against me, independent on the letter to Mr. Butler. And, 1st, You charge me with " a frontless assurance, and a well dissembled hypocrisy," (p. 22.) Sir, I thank you. This is as kind, as if you were to call me (with Mr. Williams) "a profane, wicked scoundrel." I am not careful to answer in this matter: shortly we shall both stand at an higher bar. 14. You charge me, secondly, with being an "harebrained enthusiast," (p. 7.) Sir, I am your most obedient servant. But you will prove me an enthusiast. "For," you say, (those are your words,) "you are sent of God to inform mankind, of some other revelation of his will, than what has been left by Christ and his apostles," (p. 28.) Not so. I never said any such thing. When I do this, then call for miracles. But at present your demand is quite unreasonable. There is no room for it at all. What I advance, I prove by the words of Christ, or his apostles. If not, let it fall to the ground. + 1 15. You charge me, thirdly, with being employed in "promoting the cause of arbitrary popish power," (p. 7.) Sir, I plead not guilty. Produce your witnesses. Prove this, and I will allow all the rest. cr You charge me, fourthly, with holding Midnight Assemblies," (p. 24.) Sir, did you never see the word Vigil in your common prayer book? Do you know what it means? If not, permit me to tell you, that it was customary with the ancient Christians, to spend whole nights in prayer: and that these nights were termed Vigilia, or Vigils. Therefore for spending a part of some nights in this manner, in public and solemn prayer, we have not only the authority of our own national church, but of the universal church, in the earliest ages. 16. You charge me, fifthly, with "being the cause of all that Butler has done,” (p. 17.) True: just as Latimer and Ridley (if I may dare to name myself with those venerable men) were the cause of all that bishop Bonner did. In this sense, the charge is true. It has pleased God, (unto him be all the glory,) even by my preaching or writings, to convince some of the old Christian scriptural doctrine, which till then they knew not. And while they declared this to others, you shewed them the same love, as Edmund of London did to their forefathers. Only the expressions of your love, were not quite the same; because (blessed be God) you had not the same power. 17. You affirm, sixthly, that I "rob and plunder the poor, so as to leave them neither bread to eat, nor raiment to put on." (p. 8.) An heavy charge, but without all colour of truth. Yea, just the reverse is true. Abundance of those in Cork, Bandon, Limerick, Dublin, as well as in all parts of England, who a few years ago, either through sloth or profaneness, had not bread to eat, or raiment to put on, have now by means of the preachers called Methodists, a sufficiency of both. Since by hearing these, they have learned to fear God, they have learned also to work with their hands, as well as to cut off every needless 2 expense, to be good stewards of the mammon of unright eousness. 18. You assert, seventhly, that I am "myself as fond of riches, as the most worldly clergyman," (p. 21.) “Two thousand pence a week! A fine yearly revenue from as surance and salvation-tickets?" (p. 8:) I answer, 1. What do you mean by assurance and salvation-tickets? Is not the very expression a mixture of nonsense and blasphemy? 2. How strangely did you under-rate my revenue, when you wrote in the person of George Fisher? You then allowed me only a hundred pounds a year! What is this to two thousand pence a week! 3. "There is not a clergyman,” you say, "who would not willingly exchange his livings, for your yearly penny contributions," (p. 21.) And no wonder. For according to a late computation, they amount to no less every year, than eight hundred, eighty-six thousand pounds, beside some odd shillings and pence: in comparison of which the revenue of his grace of Armagh, or of Canterbury, is a very trifle. And yet, Sir, so great is my regard for you and my gratitude for your late services, that if you will only resign your curacy of Christ's Church, 1 will make over to you my whole revenue in Ireland. 19. But "the honour I gain," you think " is even greater than profit." Alas, Sir, I have not generosity enough to relish it, I was always of Juvenal's mind, Gloria quantalibet, quid erit si gloria tantum ? And especially, while there are so many dead drawbacks, so many dead flies in the pot of ointment. Sheer honour might taste tolerably well. But there is gall with the honey, and less of the honey than the gall. Pray, Sir, what think you? Have I more honour or dishonour? Do more people praise or blame me? How is it in Cork? Nay, (to go no farther,) among your own little circle of acquaintance? Where you hear one commend, do not ten cry out, 'Away with such a fellow from the earth!' Above all, I do not love honour with dry blows. I do not find it will cure broken bones. But perhaps you may think, I glory in these. O how should I have gloried then, VOL. XIII. M if your good friends at Dant's-bridge had burnt my person, instead of my effigy? We are here to set religion out of the question. You do not suppose, I have any thing to do with that. Why if so, I should rather leave you the honour, and myself sleep in a whole skin. On that suppo sition I quite agree with the epigrammatist, Virgilii in tumulo, divini præmia vatis, 20. Your last charge is, That, "I profess myself to be a member of the established church, and yet act contrary to the commands of my spiritual governors, and stab the church to the very vitals," (p. 27.) I answer, 1. What spiritual governor has commanded me not to preach, in any part of his majesty's dominions? I know not one, to this very day, either in England or Ireland. 2. What is it, to stab the church to the very vitals? Why to deny her fundamental doctrines. And do I, or you, do this? Let any who has read her liturgy, articles, and homilies, judge, which of us two denies, That we are justified by faith alone?' That every believer has 'the inspiration of God's Holy Spirit? That all who are strong in faith, do 'perfectly love him, and worthily magnify his holy name!' He that denies this is "the treacherous son, who stabs this affectionate and tender mother." If you deny it, you have already disowned the church. But as for me I neither can nor will; though I know you sincerely desire I should. Hoc Ithacus velit et magno mercentur Achivi. But I choose to stay in the church, were it only to reprove those who betray her with a kiss. 21. I come now to your defence of the corporation and clergy. But sure such a defence was never seen before. For whereas I had said, I dislike the condemning the magistrates or clergy in general, because several of them' (so 1 charitably supposed) were not concerned in the late proceedings:" you answer, "Pray, by all means, point them 3 |