Kind faithfulness towards our friends is a truly Christian grace—this grace the subject of this memoir eminently possessed, of which the following letter is a proof:—
TO THE SAME.
Madeley, April 28, 1821.
My much endeared Friend,
Though circumstances certainly appear against me, and give you just reason to suspect that no very overwhelming tide of affection flows towards my expatriated brother and fellow-labourer; though I seem to have lost all the ardent, or the softer feelings of the friend, in the cold and apathetical conclusions of the mere calculator; though like the callous brethren of the afflicted Joseph, I seem unconscious of your grief, and can, like them, selfishly sit down to eat and to drink, or rise up to consult with others, to decide your fate, and fix you in sorrow;—though, I say, all these things appear against me, and though my friend is constrained to number me among the annoying trio, yet still I feel within me a pleasing conviction of real genuine affection, which enables me to rise above appearances, and which persuades me that I am not quite a stranger to that love which many waters cannot quench, and which the floods cannot drown. The fact is, my dear friend, that the decision to which you allude in your last was my painful and not my pleasant duty. I felt, I hope, something like the surgeon who has been called to perform some operation on the most beloved of his friends; were he to hesitate, or were he to decline, how justly would he be answerable for all the painful consequences which might result: but while he proceeds, though steady to his point, though the fixedness of his eye seems to proclaim him devoid of pity, though his unshaking hand seems to indicate no shrinking from his work of torture; yet still the tenderest emotions may exist within, and to the discriminating eye may be seen in a thousand varying turns. I do not, indeed, wish you to give me credit for a perfect similarity to all this, and yet I do hope that when time has a little more sobered down the strength, and perhaps intensity, of feeling, you will feel more disposed to thank me for the thankless duty which my friendship for you enabled me to perform.
My sister and brother Holland are with me at present and have been here for some weeks past. Many, indeed, are the pleasures of endeared and social intercourse, and I feel truly thankful that we have been permitted to enjoy them. We have never met as a family since my sister was married, and, though there has been all along an interchange of thought and feeling through letters, yet we have found how far short all this comes of vivâ voce and personal communications and endearments. I have no doubt but that a similar result would be experienced, could you and I occasionally meet together. And when we consider the almost insuperable impediments which lie in the way of such a meeting, some feeling, perhaps, steals into the mind which would have us think somewhat hardly of the divine appointments. Let us, however, be thankful that, though we have not all the sweets of friendship, yet that so many are still reserved to us. And who can tell but that these may be increased, if we are only more faithful in bringing each other, with our mutually known concerns, to our compassionate God and Saviour?
After speaking of the arduous duties of his parish, as oppressive to the flesh, the mind, and the spirits, he adds, in his usual heavenly strain, to the same friend:—
“It is still very blessed to be engaged in any way for the blessed Saviour. This is, indeed, a work which pays in the doing. I pray God I may love it even more and more. But, were it otherwise, were every step toilsome and thorny, were there no brook to drink of by the way to enable us to lift up our heads, were the yoke galling and the burden heavy, were the cross, instead of concealing a latent good, only cruciating, were the cup of sorrows divested of all sweets and only filled with strongest bitters; still we have enough of stimulus arising from the glorious prospect of that blessedness above to inspirit our souls, and to enable us to toil up the most arduous ascent, and not only to drag on our wearied feet, but to lift them up with all the alacrity of cheerful obedience; for the joy which is set before us, we may well endure the cross, and, like our blessed Master, despise the shame. O, my dear Armstrong, may we both of us live more with heaven in our eye, and with a lively feeling of our Saviour’s love in our hearts! And then every murmur will be hushed, and nothing be heard from our joyful lips but the language of thanksgiving and praise.”
I hope the children of my late endeared friend will forgive the following little notice of a father’s practice and of the habits of his children in their juvenile days:—
“Your letter, received yesterday evening, speaks somewhat at large on pocket money. I think it probable, from what you there say, that threepence a week will be less than you would choose; if so, I will alter, though I think that threepence altogether unearned is quite sufficient. I do not give a single penny to my own altogether gratuitously—i.e., independent of their own conduct and exertions; but still, while William was with me, I gave most liberal inducements to him and them, that they might readily gain sixpence each weekly, and have sometimes gone as far as a shilling, and even more. Two of my children have some of their earnings in the Savings’ Bank; one has a guinea and another has £1 3s. Indeed, my — boy is always scheming so largely that he has only a few shillings in hand, and these are devoted towards making a present of the new Life of Mr. Fletcher to a poor lad, who, a few weeks since, had behaved generously to him. But this his excess of generosity arises, I think, more from his ability to acquire, than anything else. “Oh,” he says, “I will soon earn it;” and in earnest he begins, and soon does. But then, he is always poor, and unless I can snare him into something like saving habits, I fear he will always be so. —, who has a guinea in the bank, is as generous as —, nay, has the greater appearance of generosity; for he has always something by him, and brings it out whenever anything benevolent is proposed; while —, being always behind hand, has to gain his before he can give it. But all my children have habits of giving; some are careful, but none are penurious, and I hope never will become so.”
TO THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG.
Madeley, June 1, 1822.
My dear Friend,
It afforded me great pleasure to see, on Tuesday last, your kind friend, Colonel Arthur [now Sir George Arthur, Bart. and Governor of Bombay], who arrived at Liverpool on the preceding Friday. He was accompanied by his lady, three children, and two servants, all of them in good health, though Mrs. Arthur and the children bore the usual paleness which Europeans so readily discover in the countenances of West Indian residents. I felt much gratified by the colonel’s urbanity of manners, and had great pleasure in showing him and his lady all the lions of the place. He seemed greatly to like our neat church and rural quiet churchyard, and the very ground appeared in his view to be more than ordinarily consecrated by the residence of the venerable Fletcher. He gave me much interesting detail respecting Honduras, its church, its schools, its people, and its minister; and of the last, he forgot not to mention his difficulties, his battles, and his eventual successes. He spoke also of his health, and described him (though perhaps he would not in this respect receive any great superabundance of thanks for his pains), as being peculiarly suited to bear all the labours of his arduous post, and that a change of place, however it might recreate the spirit, was by no means necessary for the continuance of his health. Now, I need scarcely tell you that all this was very refreshing to my spirit. I am not permitted to see you, and yet such have been the singular circumstances which have brought me in contact with those who have long lived in the Bay of Honduras, that I have been favoured with details almost as lively and circumstantial as an actual visit could have afforded me. And all the accounts strengthen in me the conviction that my endeared friend is in his own real, identical, proper post—the one by Heaven’s signature stamped with appointment and approbation too. May the Saviour who has appointed and approved, still bind him to it by his constraining love!
The colonel was very kind in his inquiries respecting William; I sent to Mr. Thurgar for him, and the counsels he gave him were very affectionate and appropriate. He left with him a sovereign when he parted from us. He seemed particularly anxious for his welfare, and was very desirous of gleaning everything encouraging that he might have the satisfaction of communicating it to you—a satisfaction evidently very strong.
Last night, I received a letter from that very excellent and very pious man, Mr. Francis Hall, who resided some months in my parish, as the companion of the New Zealanders, and who went with them to New Zealand. His whole conduct, while among us, left an indelible impression of the genuine piety which so humbly but gracefully dwelt within him. Every recollection of the dear good man is refreshing to my spirit. But I wander from my point. I received from him, yesterday, a letter which ought to make us all truly thankful that we have been providentially kept here, instead of being suffered to go, as we had once intended, along with himself or others to this inhospitable shore. He begins with congratulating us on this point, and illustrates his congratulation with such a narration of discouragement, connected with the state of the mission, as would convince every unprejudiced mind that a family such as mine has no business there. A time possibly may come when the signs may become more favourable; but certainly they are most discouraging now.
I hope I am thankful to God, as the only source of our good, for the state of things in my own parish. To say there was an outpouring of the Spirit upon us, would be using language by far too strong, and yet some gracious drops have descended—the dew has been resting upon us. Our classes increase—the public means are better attended; our Sunday schools are more than doubled, and a spirit of hearing generally prevails. And I feel the more grateful for all this, as I have all along expected that a seven years’ residence among them would produce a listlessness and indifference bordering on satiety; but, though this term is now attained within a few days, yet there seems no want of attention and no diminution in interest. The hearts of the dear people are still given to me, and, as such, they still bear with and love me. And if old things are said in their hearing, they appear to come home to them with a new power, and that power I would gratefully acknowledge is from above: to the grace, therefore, of my Redeemer, I would ascribe the praise. And I do still cherish a hope that, so long as he shall be pleased to continue me here, he will graciously command that the barrel of meal shall not waste, nor the cruse of oil fail; that neither matter nor unction shall be wanting in my humble ministrations. Humble they, indeed, are and always will be: the little treasure which I bear, is in an earthen, a cracked earthen vessel. But I hope I am still content, so long as the excellency of the power may be seen of God and not of man. Here, my dear friend, is the grand point—we nothing; Christ all. Oh, blessed feeling! Never are we so truly happy as when we most fully realize it.
We all unite in kind love to yourself and Mrs. A., and I remain,
My dear Friend,
Yours ever sincerely,
G. M.
The friend to whom the following extract of a letter to the editor refers, was one whom Mr. Mortimer had strongly urged to turn his attention towards the service of the sanctuary. The extract exhibits so beautiful a picture of a good man that I cannot prevail upon myself to omit it, and yet, not to offend the retiring feelings of the excellent individual alluded to—he being yet alive—I suppress his name, though to himself and some few of his friends the name will not be unknown. I hope he will forgive me this wrong which I have committed for the sake of others. In a note which the editor received from this gentleman, forwarding to him several of the letters which he had received from Mr. Mortimer, he says,
“‘In honour preferring one another,’ seemed to be one of his (Mr. M.’s) constant rules of action. For myself, I may most unaffectedly say, that while I feel grateful to God for the affection of such a friend for so many years, I equally feel my own utter unworthiness of such a privilege and blessing.”
“Two evenings ago, I received a letter from my excellent friend, —, late of —. He has at length applied for orders, and was admitted deacon, two Sundays since, by the venerable Bishop of Norwich. Mr. Horne of Christ Church, Newgate-street, whose work on the Scriptures you have no doubt seen reviewed, was admitted by the Bishop of London three years since, and these two together with myself were a trio of friends meeting in Mr. Butterworth’s class. Orders were at one time the furthest from all our thoughts, and yet have we been gradually led forward, and the third has at length joined us in the blessed and honourable employ. I much regret that he did not break through his snares and impediments when, about seven years ago, I strongly urged him to the point; for he would then have not only spent seven more years in the more immediate work of the sanctuary, but would have saved himself many painful exercises and many severe losses.
* * * * *
“But oh, how I admire the man! If he shone in prosperity, how much more in adversity! No murmur ever escapes him. He does, indeed, glorify his God in the fires. His altered circumstances make no alteration in the man, unless, indeed, they have induced greater spirituality of mind, more complete deadness to the world, and more unreserved surrender of all his affections and powers to the service of his God. But here I am backward to speak; for he shone so conspicuously before, that I find it difficult to determine which is stronger of the two lights, both so strong that few could bear with them a momentary comparison. Oh, may our lights, my dear friend, so shine in every alteration of our circumstances, that we also may, like him, bring glory to our God!”
At the beginning of the year 1823, it pleased God to deprive the church of the valuable labours’ of the Rev. John Eyton, Vicar of Wellington, to whom Mr. Mortimer was exceedingly attached. About seven weeks before his removal, he left home with the intention of wintering at the Isle of Wight, but the weather becoming very cold he was obliged to remain at Portsmouth. The children being all at home, he did not wish Mrs. Eyton to accompany him; but a few days before his death, she received an intimation that he wished to see her, and though she set off the very day she received this information, she did not arrive till some hours after his departure. In reference to this painful event, Mr. Mortimer, in a letter to his sister, says,
“The death of Mr. Eyton has filled us with a degree of consternation and surprise which I find it difficult to express. In what a changing world do we live, and how many evils does that part of our punishment “death” introduce among us. Prayer seems at present our only refuge, especially with regard to his bereaved people. The delicate and very difficult duty of preaching the funeral sermon has been assigned to me: the flesh would dispose me to decline were I to attend to its dictates; but I dare not listen. I owe so much to my endeared and highly honoured friend, that I feel I must proceed. Let me, however, entreat the assistance of your prayers.”
Some time during last year Mr. Mortimer was induced to undertake the editorship of a monthly publication for young persons. He refers to this engagement in the following letter:—
TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.
Madeley, Feb. 13, 1823.
My dear Brother,
I am obliged to you for thinking of me in reference to my monthly engagements. I can hardly expect that you should enter with any very lively interest into this matter, though, I can assure you, your kind assistance would prove a very acceptable service both to myself and my readers; nor would the time be altogether lost, if the matter were considered in sole reference to yourself; at least I should so conclude, from what I have observed with respect to my own mind and habits, and I very greatly regret that, for so many years, I suffered my feelings to prevail over my better judgment, and cause me to neglect the throwing in of my mite into some channel of usefulness. But I do not blame others, knowing how very unwillingly I was pressed into the service myself. I do not expect that my friends should, by any touch of my poor leaden wand, start into active and willing contributors. Had I Orpheus-like powers, the trees and stones might follow me; but I possess none of these magical or touchingly persuasive means, and therefore, though, as a point of duty, I every now and then turn an entreating eye, and raise a feeble supplicating voice, both the priest and the Levite are afraid of messing themselves in my poor concerns, and prudently pass over to the other side. I would not, however, ungratefully involve all in this sweeping and indiscriminate crimination. A Samaritan or two have kindly pitied me, and for their equally unexpected and unwearied act of friendship, I feel myself peculiarly indebted. But why all this enumeration? Should I not honestly confess that it is not altogether without reference to yourself? I am not a stranger to my good brother’s Samaritan-like feelings, and a distant hope is cherished by me, that he will yet pour in of his truly welcome supplies.
T. L., I should think, would at present pass quite as good an examination as his brother B., but I would not recommend him to be over hasty in applying for orders, nor indeed does he feel thus disposed himself. Young men, I think, sadly err in this matter; they hasten into the ministry far too soon, and repent of their haste all through their subsequent years. But perhaps it is hardly fair to ascribe all the blame to them: it originates, in great part, with those who bear the expense of their education, and who are glad of the first opportunity which presents itself of getting them off. But T. L. supports himself, and, therefore, the burden and the advantage both fall, as they ought, upon the same individual, and he so feels the desirableness of improving the present time, that he prefers waiting a little longer. Another pupil who is reading with me, a very nice young man, supports himself in a similar way; and I do not intend, for the future, to superintend the studies of any who do not, in some way or other, pursue the same method. And
I remain, my dear Brother,
Yours very affectionately,
G. M.
TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.
Madeley, Feb. 5, 1824.
My dear Thomas,
*******
Matters proceed among us pretty much as usual. My people are kind, our congregations good, classes very fair, and attendance on the weekly expositions pleasingly increasing. As to myself, I can say but little; sometimes I am enabled to live in the spirit of the petition,
“Each moment draw from earth away
My heart, which lowly waits thy call;”
and then my peace flows smooth and tranquil as a river; then all my affections take their proper channel, and are directed to a holy spiritual end. But, alas! too generally I find my feelings and conduct better characterized by complaint than exultation, and have too much reason to say,
“Yet hind’rances strew all the way;
I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.”
But I still keep fixing my eye upon the beauteous light, even when furthest from it, and most ardently do I sigh after its most blessed repose. Well, perhaps, after all my failures, I may still become habitually possessed of it; and indeed without it, I feel that I shall never enjoy anything like true and substantial rest. A minister without the inward grace, and that also in a more than usual measure, is of all others a character most to be pitied—I mean of all other Christians; for in order to instruct others, he must of course be more advanced in knowledge, and consequently will be called to a far stricter account. Besides, the whole routine of his employments, carrying with them the exterior of sanctity, are apt to impress, not only others, but himself also, with fallacious hopes respecting the safety of his state. The constant repetition also of his duties has a strong tendency to render the spiritual impression on himself less and less vivid, till at length the pious feeling, in many instances, is entirely absent, and he detects himself half hypocritically acting or performing a part, attempting to raise emotion in others to which he is so much a stranger himself. These, my dear brother, are our snares—at least they are mine; but I hope I not only perceive them, but am watching against them. And my comfort is, that amidst all my consciousness of weakness, it is still my privilege to rely on an all-sufficient Saviour.
You kindly speak in your letter of your being able to assist me in my editorial labours, by furnishing me with accounts connected with the different societies. I fear, however, that the work will not proceed beyond the present volume. Its sale, I am thankful to state, has increased since it was placed in my hands, and is still increasing; but it will not cover the attendant expenditure—at least not so much so, as to make it worth the publisher’s while to continue. Its discontinuance, however, will prove no great loss to me. I edit the numbers of the present volume for £2. 10s. a number, and, when my monthly expenses are deducted, I have only about £1 each remaining. My object, however, is not gain, but a desire of being in some way useful; and as a work of the kind seems desirable, I shall feel a little regret that it should cease. But perhaps, after it stops, some London bookseller will venture upon something of a similar kind, and, if so, it will then, in all probability, succeed. * * * * * We all unite in sincerest love to yourself, Mrs. T. M., and my dear niece, and
I remain, my dear Thomas,
Your affectionate Brother,
George Mortimer.
TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.
Madeley, Dec. 1, 1824.
My dear Brother,
* * * * * * *
I am afraid, from your intimations respecting your being in quest of a morning service, that Mr. Pratt has failed in substantiating his claim; if so, I shall be much concerned. Retired from the emoluments of a former occupation, he will possibly feel this diminution in point of income; but for such a servant in the house of our God, I trust that not mere adequacy, but even the munificence of our merciful Lord, is in abundant reserve.
You inquire concerning my health. It has been far from well ever since my return from G—, strong as I seemed while there; no sooner did I enter upon my parochial duties, than I began to fail, and in about a fortnight, I was nearly as ill as ever. This induced me to lay the whole matter before Mr. Burton, and to request him to relieve my mind with an assurance that, in case I should be under the necessity of leaving, he would kindly indulge the parishioners with a suitable person in my stead. His kindness has removed my difficulties, and left me at full liberty to leave my work in more efficient hands. I have had an application for the curacy from a gentleman who strikes me as being very suitable, and Mr. Burton has accepted of his services. One difficulty, however, is in the way. He holds a living in the diocese of Worcester; but, being peculiarly circumstanced, he expects that the bishop will permit him to hold it in conjunction with Madeley, and to divide his time between them, his curate sharing the twofold duty with him. Should his application to the bishop not succeed, he has recommended to me another person, who seems equally eligible with himself; but with this latter person I have had no communication.
As to myself, I am of course in uncertainty; but I feel confident, that as I have hitherto been guided by the wisdom and goodness of my condescending God, so he will still point out to me the way in which I should go.
You speak of the mine of paper and print, and, like too many others, comfort yourself with considering that your work is but a little one. But good, my brother, beware, beware! Three services on a Sabbath, occasional weekly ministrations, and numerous official employments, should almost entirely exclude every kind of preparation for the press. With kindest love &c,
Believe me, my dear Thomas,
Your ever affectionate Brother,
George.
In the spring of 1825, Mr. Mortimer visited his London friends, one of whom writes as follows:—
“Your dear brother appeared so full of love and tenderness, and, at the same time, so interested himself in everything that appeared to interest us, that we could not help wishing for a much longer enjoyment. I heard him preach but once: his sermon was truly edifying. I will transcribe a brief outline of it, as you may find it a word of consolation in some season of sorrow. Matt. xv. 28, ‘O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt.’ The advantages resulting from strong faith were pointed out in four important particulars; viz.—I. It yields to no discouragement. II. It bears and even overcomes the most humiliating discoveries. III. It receives the strongest marks of the Saviour’s approbation. IV. It is put into eventual possession of every needful good. Each of these points was marked out as strikingly illustrated in this affecting and interesting narrative.”
His brother, the Rev. Thomas Mortimer, has kindly furnished me with the following communication respecting the same sermon:—
“On Sunday, the 27th March, 1825, my beloved brother preached for me at my lecture at St. Olave’s, Southwark. I shall never forget that sermon. Being the only church at that time usually open in the Borough for Sunday evening service, there was generally a large attendance, and that evening the church was crowded. On entering the pulpit, my brother’s diminutive figure excited attention; and, in some, produced a smile. When, however, he had composed himself in the pulpit, his fine countenance, beaming with intelligence, evidently inspired some with respect, who, at first, had looked up with indifference, if not with scorn. His announcement of his text was most solemn and yet most tender; ‘O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt.’ From that moment the silence of death reigned; and, after a few minutes, every eye seemed fixed upon the preacher, and every ear listening to his voice. The scoffer soon discovered that the preacher was no ordinary man: the candid inquirer felt interested in the subject: the timid and weak believer took courage: and the mourner drank in the water of life, with the eagerness of the thirsty soul. Many a time, during subsequent years, have the tenderest and most grateful reference been made to that sermon by those who were accustomed to converse with me on the great concerns of their souls. Though nearly twenty years have rolled away since that memorable night, the recollection of my beloved brother, of the touching words that fell from his lips, and the ‘unction of the Holy One,’ which evidently attended them, is still vivid and delightful, and will, I doubt not, accompany me to my grave.”
Intimation has already been given, in a letter to his brother, of Mr. Mortimer’s entertaining thoughts of leaving Madeley, owing to the declining state of his health. The following several letters refer to that event and to arrangements for filling up his important post in that parish.
TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.
Yardley, near Birmingham, Sept. 12, 1825.
My dear Friend,
Your very kind and acceptable letter reached me three or four weeks since; and I should have answered it much earlier had I not been in some uncertainty as to my proximate movements; and I thought I would wait till something definite should have transpired. I have been here very nearly seven months, and was thinking of returning to Madeley in about a month from the present time; but it is now arranged that we should continue here till the middle of February. From what you mention in your letter, I should suppose that you have been informed that I had left Madeley altogether, but this is not the case; I have only exchanged duties with the vicar of this place, who has been, like myself, out of health for some months past, and who thought that a complete change of sphere and situation would prove beneficial to him. He and his family, therefore, reside in the vicarage at Madeley, and myself and family here; both of us having left our furniture, library, &c., &c., for each other’s accommodation. The duties in this place being light, as compared with Madeley, and the air exceedingly salubrious, I have found great benefit from the change, and am pretty nearly as well as I was before I began to fail; the whole of my family, also, have found their health considerably improved; so that in this point of view we have reason to be thankful for the exchange. And I hope, also, that the change of ministrations will be beneficial to both our parishes. I hear of an increased attention being produced at Madeley, and I ought to acknowledge with gratitude the acceptance with which I am favoured here.
You mention in your letter that your engagement in your present curacy will terminate early in 1827. I read that part of your letter to Mr. Gwyther (the gentleman with whom I have exchanged duties), who was over here a few days ago, and he said, “Could we not contrive between us to keep the curacy open for Mr. C. till he should be able to take it?”
Our present arrangement will, if we are spared, bring us to the middle of February, 1826, which is only a year short of the time when you will be released from your present charge. Now, if we could manage so as to supply till then, would you like to undertake the charge of the parish, provided the incumbent would admit you, which, from what I have lately ascertained, I think could easily be managed? Since I saw you I have engaged with an assistant, but merely pro tempore; the expense of which is to be principally borne by the parishioners. The sum allowed to him will be £100 a year; towards which I myself give £30, on condition of being occasionally absent, should my health require it, at the sea or elsewhere. The value of my curacy is full £100 a year besides the house. You will perceive, then, that matters are now made much easier for you, should you think of fixing your lot among the Madeley people, and I am confident that the arrangement would be highly gratifying to them.
TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.
Yardley, February 21, 1826.
My dear Friend,
Though I fully intended to have answered your very kind letter within the time that you specified, yet, as it bears date October 15, I find that I have exceeded the proposed interval by more than a month. So much for my friendship. Had it been a letter on business, I have little hesitation in saying that it would have been duly despatched; and, had there been a dozen of this kind, I think I might venture to assert the same. But my friends, and those also the most intimate and endeared, are too generally neglected; and many are the kind reproofs which my remissness thus draws upon me. You, indeed, my dear friend, have, in silence, borne with all; and this ought to have made me more cautious in giving you fresh occasions of pain. But nothing seems of sufficient influence to correct the inveteracy of my habit; and, therefore, I must still, I fear, keep confessing my reiterated faults, and as often keep throwing myself upon the kind forgiveness and forbearance of my friends.
I am still, as you will perceive from my date, at Yardley, and, from a fresh arrangement, our exchange will be prolonged from March till the latter end of July next. Nothing has as yet been done about an assistant curate for Madeley. About a fortnight ago, I was congratulating myself on the acquisition of a very desirable fellow-helper, the Rev. A. B—, who had consented to join with me in the duties of the parish, and had engaged the residence of our late departed friend Mrs. E—; but some obstacles have since arisen, so that I fear we shall now lose him. Should he decline, I shall not be over anxious in making any permanent arrangement with any one else until my return in July, by which time I should hope you will be able to speak somewhat more definitely as to your own movements, as there will be only about six months to the time of your own projected removal. The impediments which have been thrown in the way of every negotiation which I have entered into for so many months past, incline me to think that it is more than possible the situation may, after all, be reserved for my endeared friend. But of the future how little, or rather, how completely nothing, are we permitted to know; and if we busy ourselves in the shrewdest guesses, or the most cool and sober calculations, how generally are we disappointed! It is our wisdom, therefore, to be more occupied with the duties which more immediately devolve upon us at the present, than with speculations about the probabilities of more remote and distant periods.
In the foregoing page, I mentioned the name of dear Mrs. E—, and I had no sooner done this than the recollection of all that transpired between us, during your short visit to us at Madeley, passed vividly through my mind. What a painful winding up of W— matters! But yet, in many respects, how merciful! * * * With respect, however, to the endeared individual so lately severed from her important charge, I have nothing to say, but what is encouraging: most clearly, most satisfactorily, had she been latterly ripening for that blessed world of spirits. And as to the dear family which she has left behind, “let us not sorrow as those without hope.” They are beloved by many for their parent’s sake, and, in a qualified use of the term, we may, perhaps, state the same respecting their parent’s faithful and condescending God. For He will, no doubt, remember them peculiarly for good, and that for their parent’s sake; for the good inheritance of their anxious desires and their holy fervent prayers, will, sooner or later, be abundantly possessed. We were truly thankful to hear of dear Mrs. C—’s gradual amendment in health; and though it may not be commensurate with our naturally impatient and restless desires, yet every increase of so invaluable a blessing should call forth our grateful praise. We beg to unite in very kindest and Christian regards to her, yourself, and family, and I remain,
My dear Friend,
Yours very sincerely,
George Mortimer.
TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.
Yardley, June 20, 1826.
My dear Brother,
From what you must have perceived of the evident inclining of my mind while you were here, you will not be much surprised at the contents of the accompanying circular. I have long paused, and, I hope, deliberately weighed, as well as sincerely prayed, and now I must leave the result in the overruling hands of an all-wise and ever-gracious God. This I am thankful to state, that I am at present enabled to do, with a measure of calm and peaceful reliance, which I did not at all anticipate.
TO THE INHABITANTS OF MADELEY.
Yardley, June 19, 1826.
My much-endeared Parishioners,
When I left Madeley, in consequence of the delicate state of my health, I had fully intended to have rejoined you in a few months. Various circumstances, however, induced me to accept the proposals made at different times by Mr. Gwyther, for lengthening the period of our exchange: and now that this period is nearly terminated, I regret to be under the necessity of stating, that I feel so strongly my total inadequacy to resume my wonted station among you, that I dare not venture upon it.
My health has indeed, through the blessing of God, upon the diminution of my parochial duties, been considerably amended. It is the opinion, however, of all my more intimate friends, that, should I return to my charge, I shall in a few weeks sink under the pressure of those numerous parochial cares and duties which before so materially injured me. I have, therefore, felt constrained to resign my situation; and have just written to Mr. Burton, stating to him, that I shall vacate the Curacy at Michaelmas next.
I have not mentioned to him anything respecting my successor, leaving a matter so materially affecting yourselves to your own superior judgment. I hope, however, that the principal inhabitants of the parish will lose no time in making a proper application to him; and from the repeated proofs which I have had of his kind feeling towards you, I have no doubt but that he will comply with any request which they may see fit to make to him.
As to my own future movements I am altogether ignorant. I trust, however, that the same gracious God, who guided my steps among you, will still appoint for me my future path: and with regard to yourselves, a people who will never cease to be remembered by me with feelings of the strongest affection, I do most sincerely pray that a pastor may be given to you who shall, in all respects, answer your most sanguine wishes: and thus supply my own numerous and often-lamented deficiencies.
Believe me to remain,
Your very affectionate though unworthy Minister,
George Mortimer.
The above was also sent to his friend, the Rev. John Cooper, accompanied by the following letter:—
My dear Friend,
I feel that I ought not any longer to keep you in ignorance of my recent decision respecting Madeley, though from what my brother has told me as to inquiries made for you in London, I have no expectation of the situation being really desirable to you. Nor, indeed, if it were so, would the time of your leaving your present charge admit of your accepting it; for some one will, no doubt, be immediately engaged, and to whom I would surrender as soon as might be required. Our own movements, as I have expressed in the accompanying circular, are quite uncertain; my wife, however, seems strongly to incline towards the neighbourhood of Clifton, in which spot she wishes to be permanently established. It is probable, therefore, that we shall bend our steps thither, and when somewhat established I will try to obtain some light permanent duty in the neighbourhood. “Que Dieu nous dirige,” is the frequent aspiration of my too solicitous mind—too solicitous; for if I knew all the gracious intentions of a God of love concerning us, I should peacefully leave everything to his all-wise disposal, without the least degree of restlessness or fear.
With respect to dear Madeley, I need scarcely add, that should you know any one who strikes you as being suitable, and to whom the situation would be agreeable, I should feel obliged by your mentioning it to him, and getting him to communicate with Mr. G— on the subject.
We beg our very kindest and Christian regards to yourself and Mrs. C, and, with much affection,
Believe me, my dear Friend,
Yours very sincerely,
G. M.
After receiving the above with its enclosed circular, Mr. Cooper wrote to his friend as follows:—
Wherwell, June 29, 1826.
My dear Friend,
I was not prepared for the intelligence contained in your very kind letter of the 26th, having hoped, from the improvement of your health at the date of your previous letter, that you would shortly return to your important charge at Madeley, and that you might have continued there many years, an instrument of blessing others, and being increasingly blessed yourself in your work. But, I doubt not, all is well and wisely ordered, and will add my affectionate though feeble prayers that you may be divinely directed in all things.
Your letter, the end of February last, left it doubtful, whether Mr. A. B— might not have finally determined to become your assistant in the parish; and, prior to your last favour, I was looking to hear from you next month, to know how this matter had terminated, in order that I might judge whether the expectation of being associated with you, which I had not entirely relinquished, might not be realized. I now beg to state, that, owing to the inquiries of a beloved clerical brother, two curacies have been offered to me within the present month, both of which I have declined. And now, my dear friend, I put it to you, whether you think Madeley is such a post as would suit one with such slender ministerial qualifications as I deeply feel that I possess; and whether you think your parishioners would be disposed to receive me favourably? If you do, I leave myself in God’s hand and yours, desiring that He may do with me as seemeth good in His sight; and requesting you to take such steps as you may judge proper. The difficulty as to the time of resigning my present cure may probably be got over soon after Michaelmas; my vicar having said, when last I saw him, that he would release me on reasonable notice, if anything eligible should be offered to me: still I wish to remain in my present sphere as long as I conveniently can. Having said thus much, I will only add that Madeley has been regarded by me for many years as a spot peculiarly sacred; it is still more endeared to me by the consideration that my beloved and highly esteemed friend has been labouring for ten years in that favoured scene of the apostolical Fletcher’s ministry.
I wait with interest, but not with any anxiety, to hear from you the result of my present communication. Believe me ever,
My dear Friend,
Yours very affectionately,
John Cooper.
TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.
Yardley, July 11, 1826.
My dear Brother,
You will be glad to hear that dear Cooper has expressed a wish to succeed me at Madeley; and, in consequence, an application has been made by myself and the parishioners on his behalf, which has been most favourably received, and Mr. Burton has nominated him to succeed me. Most truly thankful do I feel that it has pleased God to give to the dear people such a man. May he long be continued to them, and may very blessed days be still in reserve for that honoured spot.
My visit among them was highly gratifying to myself, and I hope I may say not unacceptable to them. I never witnessed in them such overflowings of kindest feelings, and, what I hardly anticipated, while they manifested affectionate regrets, I do not recollect a single instance in which they censured or chode; but, on the contrary, seemed to think that the step, though painful, was necessary.
Our own plans are still somewhat uncertain. We think, however, of moving towards Bristol, and of fixing somewhere within a mile or two of the city, and have written to George Yate to engage us a ready-furnished house for about a month. We expect to leave this place the 30th of August.
But I have said nothing of dear Mr. Butterworth’s removal, on which your last letter principally dwelt. I felt surprised and pained beyond my ordinary feelings on such occasions; for almost all that I possess spiritually, I owe, under God, to him. But after all, he is not lost to me, for I trust I shall rejoin him ere long; and, even during the short interval of apparent separation, who can tell how near he may still be to me, and how materially he may still be permitted to help me? But, however this may be, Jesus remains the same, and I trust that the removal of every endeared medium of good may be the means of uniting me more fully to Him.
Our kindest love to yourself and family, to my dear mother, Eliza, &c.; and I remain,
Your ever affectionate Brother,
George.