The letter from which the following extract is made, is chiefly in reference to the providing means for an assistant-curate at Madeley; towards which, Mr. Mortimer proposed to furnish £10 per annum, and also a further sum of £10 per annum to aid the Curate’s Poor Fund, for relieving the sick and distressed poor of the populous parish of Madeley; and it is due to Mr. M.’s kindness and benevolence to state, that during the period of his friend’s curacy, he generously contributed each year the proposed amount for the poor; and for three years (during which time only an assistant curate was employed), the like sum towards the other object named.
TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.
Yardley, July 31, 1826.
My dear Friend,
Our way towards Bristol appears to be opening. A very singular circumstance connected with it has just occurred. It seems to us all to be too pantomimic—too magical—to be true. But yet, what cannot the God of wisdom and of love effect! We are striving to wait, as you expressed yourself in a former letter about Madeley, “with interest but without anxiety” to see the result. Oh, what a comfort it is to feel calmly assured that, while we are leaving ourselves in God’s hands, all must eventually be well. Mary unites with me in kindest regards to yourself and dear Mrs. C—, and
I remain, my dear Friend,
Yours, very sincerely,
G. M.
TO THE SAME.
Horfield, near Bristol, October 18, 1826.
My very dear Friend,
Had not circumstances of various kinds interfered, you would ere this have seen me at Wherwell; but, as I had no control over these, and kept expecting that in a few more days I should be able to write to you definitely, I hope you will not too harshly censure me, when I tell you at length that my projected visit, like too many of my projections, has come to nothing, and that it will not be in my power to see you before you leave. But, after all, your removal is not to a distant country, and many may be the circumstances which the kind Providence of God shall permit for our future intercourse. You speak, indeed, of a kind of necessity for conference and consultation at the present juncture. Of this, however, I am far from being convinced; for I think a stranger always proceeds best with the least previous acquaintance with the minutiæ of characters and proceedings. A general idea is quite necessary; but everything that is circumstantial creates a prejudice either to the advantage or disadvantage of the parties concerned. The fresh unbiassed inspection brings us, for the most part, nearest the truth. Every one with whom I converse, who has any knowledge of you, joins with me in thankfulness to God that it has pleased Him to direct your steps to Madeley; most fully does it seem to have been, from beginning to end, from Him; to Him, therefore, may we ever give the praise. And may you, my much-endeared friend, be so fully qualified for your important charge; may the barrel of meal also granted for your dear people’s supply waste not, nor the cruse of oil fail; or, in other words, may matter and unction be so abundantly imparted, and so graciously continued, that the time may never come in which your ministrations may prove burdensome to yourself, or either uninteresting or unedifying to your hearers. With kindest regards, I remain,
Yours, ever affectionately,
George Mortimer.
Mr. Mortimer’s life has now been brought down to the close of his services at Madeley, where he had been resident pastor for about ten years. In taking a review of this period, we find him to have abounded in the great duties of his office—in works of faith and labours of love. What with his Sunday duties, his classes, his expositions, his schools, his pastoral visits, and his manifold acts of charity and kindness to the poor, in a parish containing very nearly six thousand souls, with his weakly constitution, and by no means robust health, the wonder is that he was enabled to carry on so arduous a course for so long a time. Madeley has been long and highly favoured; it is to be hoped that the people have both appreciated and improved their privileges. Mr. Mortimer met with much kindness, encouragement, and acceptance in the diligent pursuit of his self-denying career in that parish, and the decade of his services there was no doubt attended with much usefulness, though the extent of it may never be known until the great day shall reveal it. He met also with much that was trying and perplexing to him; much to wound his loving spirit; much to grieve his affectionate heart; much to prove his faith and try his patience; but he neither flinched from duty, nor swerved from the line of conduct which became him as a minister of the Established Church; and, what is more, he treated neither opposition in the spirit of retaliation, nor opposers in a spirit of harshness or severity. He was eminently a man of peace, a man of love, a man of placability. The commencement of his services in the parish was attended with great difficulties. Considerable irregularities had been practised by his predecessors; in their steps, in this respect, he was determined not to tread; and though he felt himself bound to resist all entreaty on this subject, to the offending of many, yet was it his prayer, his study, his endeavour to conciliate all. His steady though moderate Churchmanship was, perhaps, always more or less a ground of offence in a parish which had long been under the influence of Methodism; but wherever good sense and piety prevailed his motives were respected, and his conduct appreciated.
It was on the manifestation of some unhallowed zeal of party spirit that the following addresses were printed and circulated in his parish, and which exhibit the very moderate and conciliatory spirit of their truly Christian author.
ADDRESS OF THE MINISTER OF MADELEY TO SUCH OF THE INHABITANTS OF COALBROOKDALE AND ITS VICINITY, AS DO NOT CONSIDER THEMSELVES MEMBERS OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH.
Vicarage, February 21, 1822.
My endeared Parishioners,
It has lately appeared to me an indispensable duty to visit more extensively my parish, and to devote myself more fully to other branches of my ministerial office. In the course of my visits I found a strong regret expressed by many, that it was not in their power to connect themselves either with me as their minister, or with the Established Church as their religious communion: and that this, their inability, arose principally from the great distance of the parish church from their respective abodes. This difficulty I have endeavoured partially to remove by beginning an exposition on alternate Monday evenings: [142] and I hope soon to be able still further to meet their wishes by assembling with them every other Sunday morning, on a plan similar to that now adopted at the Ironbridge school-room on the Sabbath evenings.
I feel a little apprehensive, however, lest these my proceedings should be considered by some as intentionally interfering with other modes and places of worship already adopted and attended in your neighbourhood; and lest my motives should be so far misconstrued, as to be identified with narrow-minded prejudice, or with intolerant hostility.
It should be remembered, however, that all persons have, and cannot help having, their preferences; and likewise, that these preferences may be openly shown by them, and even occasionally employed in influencing others, without the least hostility towards those who continue in another persuasion. And I can appeal with the greatest confidence to my own conduct during nearly seven years’ residence among you, as a proof of this assertion. For though I have uniformly shown a decided preference towards the Established Church, yet I am not aware of having discovered, in a single instance, the least opposition or hostility towards any individual of another communion, merely as such. Much, indeed, on my first coming into the parish, was unhappily advanced to the contrary; but I was determined to take no notice of such remarks, assured that they had no foundation in myself, and that, when my line of conduct should be better understood, they would gradually die away, and a different feeling be eventually adopted. This different feeling has, I am happy to state, long been cherished by many; and it was from a strong desire that nothing contrary to it should prevail in consequence of my present ministerial procedures, that I have been induced to send you this circular address.
Oh, let me then, as your minister, entreat you not to regard me with a misgiving or suspecting mind; but from the fulness of a loving and a Christian heart to wish and to supplicate for me abundant success. And be not hasty in censuring either myself or others for attachment to our venerable and established forms. Give to us what you feel entitled to demand for yourselves; I mean the right of preference. And amidst certain shades of difference, let brotherly love not only continue among us, but let it abound yet more and more. And with regard to myself, I do most sincerely pray God that no feeling may be cherished by me, no single expression uttered, and no conduct whatever pursued, which may, in any respect, tend to its diminution.
With feelings, then, of unfeigned affection, believe me, my much-endeared Parishioners,
Your sincerely devoted Friend and Minister,
George Mortimer.
ADDRESS OF THE MINISTER OF MADELEY TO THE INHABITANTS OF MADELEY WOOD AND ITS VICINITY.
Vicarage, March 23, 1822.
My endeared Parishioners,
The very kind reception given to the Address which I circulated among the inhabitants of Coalbrookdale and its vicinity, and the feelings of mutual love and affection it has been the means of eliciting, encourage me to hope that a similar appeal to yourselves will be attended with equally beneficial results.
The principal reason of my now addressing you, is, that I have very painfully witnessed, within the short space of two or three weeks, a great increase of party spirit arising from the measures recently adopted towards forming and carrying on a Sunday school separate and distinct from that which has so long been established among us. The natural consequences of such procedures, I am willing to hope, you did not sufficiently estimate, or I can hardly imagine you would so hastily, and at such a time, have adopted them. You are sensible, I think, that my wish is for peace; that my great desire is, that love may not only prevail, but abound more and more; and that I am striving to pursue that line of conduct, which, as a consistent minister of the Established Church, devolves upon me, so as not to give the least unnecessary offence to others. Permit me, then, to ask, whether these recent measures are at all likely to produce such pacific results? Do they not rather tend to range more decidedly than ever under distinct and separate parties, not only the superintendents and teachers, but likewise the parents of the children themselves? Do they not in some measure force persons to declare themselves on one side or other, and that not merely in opinion, but likewise in decisive action? And are not the individuals, thus compelled to declare themselves, regarded with suspicion by those who move in contrary directions? I would inquire, then, is all this calculated to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace? And are those individuals our best friends who are most earnest in this work of alienation? I mean no personal allusions, I assure you, to any individual among you: I hope I very sincerely love you all; and I wish that bonds of union may be multiplied, which may bring us closer and closer together, instead of these cords of separation which, drawing in other directions, will every day remove us to a greater and yet greater distance.
Permit me also to ask whether this is the time for such exertions? If indeed your minister were sleeping at his post; if he were lying down, and loving to slumber; if the schools happened to be on the decline in respect of numbers, or in regard to the insufficiency of superintendents or teachers; if scarcely anything were going forward adequate to the necessities of the parish; then, indeed, such exertions might be called for. But how contrary is all this to the real state of the case! It is at a time when the schools are so crowded as to render it impossible to instruct them in the usual place: it is at a time when, to afford greater facilities of instruction, the larger schools are being divided into twenty or thirty minor schools, and these so situated as to be almost at the door of every child in the parish, and so arranged as to admit of every one being taught who is capable of instruction. You will readily perceive, then, that the stir which is making at present, is by no means called for in the existing necessities of the case. To what, then, must it be attributed? It is commonly reported that it arises from a fear entertained by some, lest my present plans and procedures should attach too many children to the Established Church, and thus eventually make them Churchmen instead of Methodists. This reason, however, I feel I ought by no means to admit; for, whatever may be said of others, the Methodists of the parish of Madeley have long made it their boast that they were firm in their attachment to our venerable Church: and so strong has been their attachment, that the majority of them would never listen to any proposals of having their services so conducted as at all to interfere with the services of the church, and would never permit the sacrament to be administered in their chapels; and there are many who feel a secret satisfaction in being able to state, that they have never yet partaken of the sacred ordinance, excepting from a clergyman; and they are still determined that no one shall ever make this their consistent glorying to be in vain. [146] It is with peculiar satisfaction, that I consider my relation to such individuals; and I assure you, I rejoice over you as my parishioners; I point you out as an example to others; and I hope we shall never see the time when the parishioners, and more especially the spiritual sons and daughters of the venerable and apostolic Mr. Fletcher, shall cease to be identified with that Church of which he was so bright an ornament, as well as minister. I feel, therefore, that it would be the height of injustice to suppose, that the mass of such of my people as are termed Methodists have any fear of their children becoming members of the Established Church; nay, they would rather rejoice in it;—they rejoice in it even now;—and some of them go so far as even to recommend it. They tell their children, in the fulness of their Catholic spirit, that their own attachment to the people with whom they are joined, never arose from dissatisfaction to the Church, but from a natural love to the private means which their own people at that time so exclusively possessed. But they add, that as these same private means are now offered to them in connexion with the Established Church, they would advise them to join themselves with its respected members; and hence it is, that not a few among our classes are the sons and daughters of such honoured individuals. I say honoured, for who can withhold from such the proper meed of approbation; for such heal the breaches of our Zion, they build up its waste places; they repair the desolations of many generations.
I am aware, however, that the same extent of feeling is not cherished by all. Some prefer their own communion, their own instructors, and classes. But I have heard such with the greatest candour acknowledge, that their predilection arose merely from the circumstance that they happened to receive their first religious good among them; and that notwithstanding this their preference, they very highly respect the Church, and that they wish its ministers abundant success in their very important work. And this I am persuaded is the feeling of ninety-nine out of a hundred of the Methodists who compose my parish. The welcome they invariably give me when I enter their houses or cottages; the smile of approbation which brightens on their countenance when we exchange salutations as we pass; and the liberality which they discover in all points of possible difference whenever they are accidentally touched upon: all these things convince me that they have no hostility either to the Church or to myself, and of course that they would not willingly enter upon any plan which might have the least semblance of opposition.
To what, then, some will still ask, must these procedures connected with the schools be attributed? I feel, I confess, somewhat at a loss to determine. I hope, however, that they have arisen merely from a well-meant, though certainly an ill-timed, zeal—a zeal, likewise, which has a direct tendency, though not previously estimated, to promote disunion among us, and a diminution of loving Christian feelings. But whatever may have been the cause of these procedures, I do hope, that the serious evils which are beginning as a consequence to break forth, will not only be checked, but entirely subside; and that all parties, superintendents, teachers, and parents, will each in their respective stations be ready to show that they are not among the last to bring about so desirable an issue.
And now, with very sincere affection, believe me, my much-endeared Parishioners,
Your faithful Friend and
Minister,
George Mortimer.
The following simple narrative, related by his attached and faithful servant Fanny, also beautifully displays the very kind and earnest, though very decided, character of the excellent pastor of Madeley.
“Some of the beer shops at the Iron Bridge used to be kept open very late at night, and master was determined to put a stop to their being open later than ten o’clock. He used to go to them, and turn out all the men that were drinking in them after that time. This enraged some of these men so much, that they declared they would kill master; for they said, ‘they were determined that no parson should interfere with them.’ Some of master’s friends heard of this, and told him, and tried to persuade him not to go to the Iron Bridge the next night; and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas did not wish him to go; and we all begged him to stay at home that night; but he told us he was not at all afraid of the men, and when I said that they would be sure to do him some harm, he said, ‘Why, Fanny, they have no power over me to hurt me; the Almighty is above them.’ So master went to the public house, and saw the very men that had threatened to kill him, and he talked to them for a long time, and told them that they ought to have been at home with their families, and that he hoped he should never see them there again. He spoke so kindly, that they all listened to him, and never offered to hurt him; and when he had done talking to them, they told him, that they had fully determined to make an attack upon him that night, but that then they felt as if they had no power to hurt him. So master shook hands with them all, and then they all took off their hats and wished him ‘safe home,’ and ‘long life to him.’ And they were never there again after ten o’clock; and I think what master said to them then, did one or two of them so much good, that they afterwards became pious.”
Mr. Mortimer was equally desirous of putting a stop to the desecration of the Lord’s day by the bargemen on the River Severn, and, for this purpose, he tried every means to prevent the barges from sailing on the Sunday. In doing this, he experienced great opposition from some of the barge owners, who purposely, as it appeared, kept their vessels locked at Coalport at the latter end of the week, and released them on the Sunday. At length Mr. M. was compelled to take them before the magistrates, and have them fined, by which means he succeeded in entirely putting a stop to this desecration.
He exerted himself also to have the law enforced against keeping open the public houses and beer shops during the time of divine service.
He took pains to prevent the children from playing about the roads and fields on the Sunday, and to secure the orderly behaviour of the Sunday scholars in going to and returning from the Sunday schools. There were at one period six hundred children in the different schools in the parish of Madeley.
The class meetings consisted of six; one for women, conducted by Mrs. Mortimer, and the other five by Mr. M. Once a quarter, the six classes met at one place. Mr. Mortimer’s object in having these class meetings, though he evidently considered them as auxiliary to the public ordinances of religion, was to prevent the serious members of his congregation from joining the Methodists, which he had constantly found to be the case at Wellington.
The following token of affectionate esteem was, no doubt, very acceptable to the feelings of Mr. Mortimer, not so much from the worth of it, as from the motive which gave rise to it—a motive at once honourable to the hearts of the donors and to the character of the receiver. This token was a handsome octavo Bible, bound in morocco, inscribed on one side,
“To the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A.
A Token of Christian Regard
From the Male Class, meeting under his care at Lincoln-hill,
1817.”
And on the other side,
“With a sincere desire that the rich promises contained herein may be his consolation through life, and his support in death.”
The following anecdote may, perhaps, be more suitably introduced here than elsewhere, because, in all probability, it was during his residence at Madeley that the fact recorded took place, though it was not related to his daughter, who communicated it to me, before the winter of 1842–3, during a sleigh-drive with her father, while descending a hill, which was in a dangerous state, owing to its slipperiness and to there being no barrier on the one side which was the edge of a precipice.
“K— and I (and perhaps a third person, but I am not sure about that) were travelling from Wellington to Madeley in a post chaise. When we were about to descend a precipitous hill, something seemed to say to me, ‘Pray, you are in danger.’ I resisted the impression, and said to myself, it is all nonsense; I will not give way to superstitious fears. Again the warning was impressed on my mind, and I then paused and lifted up my heart in prayer to God. I had no sooner done so, than I heard the postillion contending with his horses, which were plunging into the hedge on one side of the road; then they dashed to the other side, and it appeared as though we should have been precipitated over the side of the hill; but we reached the bottom in safety. I then said to K—, ‘I will tell you what has been passing in my mind,’ and related to him all the circumstances. K— then told me, that just at the same time, as he supposed from my description of the spot, the same thing was suggested to his mind, and that at first he repelled the suggestion, but afterwards yielded to it; but that he had not the honesty to confess the circumstance till I had done so. I know K— well, and feel perfectly assured that he would tell me nothing but the truth; and from the remarkable circumstance of the suggestion being made to the minds of both of us, I cannot, but believe it was an intimation from above of our danger and of the necessity of prayer. For, although his angels are always at hand to succour us in danger, yet God has been pleased to make prayer a necessary means for obtaining their aid. When I am in my grave, tell this for the benefit of others as an encouragement to prayer.”
My dear young friend and god-daughter adds, “I was very much impressed by the charge with which my dear father concluded, and, that I might be the better able to fulfil it, I wrote down the whole relation when I returned home, of which the above is a copy.”
I very gladly comply with a hope expressed by Mr. Mortimer’s eldest daughter that I will insert in the memoir of her dear father, a letter addressed to her by him when she was about ten years of age; and, as it was written during his residence at Madeley, I insert it here before we take leave of that place:—
“We returned to Madeley on the evening of last Thursday week; and I am thankful to state that we have all of us received considerable benefit from our journey. Your brothers and sisters seemed to enjoy themselves exceedingly. The latter part of the time we were joined by your uncle, who spent about eight days with us; and having hired a car for that time capable of holding eight or nine persons, we were enabled to see all that was worth seeing in the neighbourhood. We often wished that you and C— had been with us in our excursions; but more particularly while we were going over the castle of Aberconway, for it struck us as conveying one of the most perfect ideas of both the extent and uses of a castle of any we could recollect to have seen. The town also is surrounded by a strong and turretted wall, and gives a good notion of a walled city, such as we read of as connected with former times.
“We greatly prefer Glan y don to Barmouth. It is about six miles from Abergeley, in Denbighshire, North Wales. It is situated in a delightful recess termed Llandrillo Bay, and the scenery all around is picturesque in the extreme. Such a pleasing combination of the sublime and beautiful I have seldom seen. The sea-shore, however, after all, presented us with the chief attractions. I collected and fixed the names of many of our English shells, and that also in a state far more perfect than before. I began also a collection of marine plants. These I shall have pleasure in showing to you when you return home. You will be surprised, perhaps, when I tell you that they amount to upwards of sixty different sorts, and these are exceedingly few in comparison of those I should have met with had we been there a longer time, or had we waited for the equinoctial winds, which, perhaps you know, bring the greatest quantity of marine substances to the shore, tearing them from the rocks to which they adhere and grow.
“A— begins to learn the names of a few of the more common shells, and was much pleased with making an incipient collection. He has purchased some plain cards, and, after dividing them by pencil marks into regular departments, he pasted his specimens upon them; and I think you will say, they look tolerably well.
“Your aunt — stopped with us about a fortnight after you left us, and I accompanied her up to London. The only coach, which we could with any convenience go by, was principally occupied by nine convicts, who were being conveyed from Shrewsbury to London, previous to transportation; and, during the night, two of them were in the coach with your aunt and myself. These were two of the most noted pickpockets belonging to a Shrewsbury gang, and, as you will readily suppose, we were not at first much disposed to relish their company. But, as they were ironed and exceedingly well-behaved, we soon got reconciled to them, and were not a little interested in the observation of this novel description of character. It presented, however, a melancholy admixture of ingenuity and depravity.
“You will be sorry to hear that during our absence at the sea, poor Mr. P— died. He dropped down suddenly while standing in the rope-walk, and never spoke afterwards. He was advanced in years and his death was expected; but still, in such an uncertain world as this, who can be secure? May we all be fully prepared when our summons shall arrive.
“You inquire concerning H. He began his letters while we were at Glan y don; but I cannot say any great things as to his proficiency. Within these few days we have permitted him to dine at our table, and he has behaved so very well that we intend he should continue to do so for the future. L. and P., for nearly a month past, have been introduced to our morning family prayer, and I am happy to state that they conduct themselves with much propriety.”
After spending about eighteen months at Yardley, near Birmingham, exchanging duties with the vicar of that parish, Mr. Mortimer finally left Madeley and removed to Clifton, August 30, 1826; but the situation not being in accordance with his retired habits, he took a house at Horfield, whither he removed on the 10th of October of the same year. From this place was written the letter of which the following is an extract, bearing date, January 17, 1827.
TO THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG, BUENOS AYRES.
From my brother, who joined us here the day after the arrival of your letter, I was rejoiced to find that Mrs. Armstrong and your family had arrived in safety; for though your frequent voyages must have familiarized you in some degree to danger, yet we who encounter nothing beyond the minor and comparatively trivial perils by land, feel a something approaching to wondering gratitude at your seemingly hairbreadth escapes. But possibly I misjudge my endeared friend. The observation which he has thus had “of the works of the Lord and of his wonders in the deep” has called forth his augmented tribute of praise. And I trust that being once more surrounded by his dear family, his comforts will thicken around him, and his sun of prosperity will become brighter and brighter, and that, if consistent with the divine will, it may set again no more.
By the commencement of my letter, you will perceive that I have been wandering as well as yourself; and, considering the difference of our locomotive powers, I am almost disposed to regard my own movements as the most astonishing. Madeley I have entirely given up, and left in the hands of my dear friend Cooper, than whom, I know not any one more suited to the place. He is, I find, very acceptable. I can say but little at present of myself: for my first object in settling here was the health of myself and family, which has already, I am thankful to say, been considerably improved. And now I am waiting for the first eligible employment which shall present itself in Bristol, that my renewed health and strength may be devoted to the glory of Him who has mercifully restored them, and to the benefit, I trust, of those around me. But though I have not as yet any settled employment, I am almost constantly engaged twice on the Sabbath, and, were I not resolutely to refuse, I should frequently be requested to take a third service.
TO THE SAME.
Horfield, near Bristol, May 23, 1827.
My much-endeared Friend,
For with these appellations I must address you, though the long intervals which I suffer to transpire between my addresses may perhaps induce the suspicion that they are not the legitimate expressions of the heart. But as this is the general, not to say the universal, character of my correspondence, and as you must, by this time, have had sufficient opportunities of discovering my weak points, I will comfort myself with the hope, that though you find me tardy, yet that you will not regard me as insincere.
Your letter of the 18th of August last was conveyed, I presume, through some private hand, and did not reach me till some months after its date. It contained, as you will perhaps recollect, the painful accounts of the bereavements which you have lately been called to endure, in the loss of your two most beloved daughters; and to one of your disposition and habits—one so affectionate, and domestic, and in every sense paternal—the dispensation must have been one of no ordinary suffering; and yet so sweetly do the feelings of the true Christian combine with those of the sorrowing parent, that I almost envy you the power which you so blessedly possess; an attainment to which I look up, when I consider it in reference to yourself, with admiring gratitude; but which, when I advert to, in contrast to my own imperfect and limited experience, humbles me in the dust. Hitherto, indeed, I have had but little affliction in my family; yet that little has not been borne with that meek and patient submission—with that deadness to the world and that detachment from the creature—which ought to characterize the child of God. But if I so readily faint in the day of comparatively minor sorrows, how can I be expected to stand in the day of increased and lengthened suffering—the evil day, asked for by Satanic malignity, and rendered but too necessary in order to bring before me the latent evils of my own unsanctified heart? Still, however, the divine panoply has been mercifully provided; and what should hinder me from becoming strong in the Lord and in the power of his might? I will therefore hope in his mercy. I will expect, that should sufferings await me, such as those with which my endeared friend has been visited, I may still be enabled to glorify my God in the day of my visitations; and then all will be well. For sanctified sorrow not only loses all its pungent and corrosive, and deadly qualities, and thus leaves our neutralized minds in the possession of calm and settled peace; but it has reference also to that happy and eternal state above, where all our light and momentary afflictions shall be succeeded by that inconceivable weight of glory which shall suffer neither diminution nor end.
Mr. Mortimer’s next engagement in the duties of his sacred office, was at St. Mary le Port, Bristol, first undertaken temporarily during the serious illness of the regular minister, the Rev. Thomas Grinfield, which lasted for some months, and afterwards sharing the services with him for a year, before his going to the curacy of Hutton. He entered upon this duty for the first time, on Sunday, December 10, 1826, and continued in the discharge of it until the end of September, 1828. In this sphere he seems to have laboured with peculiar pleasure, acceptance, and usefulness; his talents as a preacher appear to have been better appreciated, and his services more valued, than in any other situation that he filled either before or afterwards; and, speaking after human judgment, I cannot help regretting that ever he felt it to be his duty to leave a field of so much promise, and one which he was so well calculated to improve and cultivate; and, if I do not greatly mistake, his own mind was not entirely free from feelings of regret on this subject. Of his adaptation to the place and of the benefits resulting from his ministry there, he was not himself insensible. He thus writes to his sister, Mrs. Holland, August 5, 1828:—
“In my ministerial duties it has pleased the Lord to give me a degree of acceptance among my present charge which I was never favoured with before. At Madeley, indeed, the attendance was good, and as much of interest was kept up and spiritual benefit conveyed, as kept my naturally anxious and misgiving mind from quite sinking; but in Bristol it has been far otherwise. The attendance at church has greatly increased; the affection of the people seems to be given me in an unusual degree; and I do hope the blessing of the Lord keeps bringing home the word with power to their hearts.”
He makes reference also to his labours at St. Mary le Port, in a letter to the Rev. John Cooper, in terms which sufficiently indicate his own feelings and sentiments, and which are plainly expressive of his own judgment upon a comparative view of his services at Bristol with those performed elsewhere.
Hutton, near Cross, Somersetshire, Feb. 4, 1829.
My much-endeared Friend,
I am quite ready to acknowledge my faults; and lest, through forgetfulness, I should in a similar manner offend in this instance also, I am determined to despatch my communication at once. You kindly allude to gratification received from this source in time past. Such hints coming even from an indifferent quarter, always frighten me; they make me fancy that something will of course be expected for the future; and knowing so fully the mere business-like strain in which I am generally accustomed to write, and my want of spirituality when I touch upon serious subjects, I have such a shrinking, not to say horror and dread of letters of mere friendship, that while intending to pay my just and lawful debts in this department, I keep insensibly postponing their discharge, till I fancy my answers would be out of date, and would fain sit down with a quiet and contented mind. Creditors, however, are those merciless kind of beings that it is no easy matter to escape out of their hands, and ever and anon some upbraiding or threatening communication appears in due form before me. Not, however, that I could be so wanting in urbane feelings, as to speak in such terms of Madeley despatches; they are, of course, the merest and most gentle of all mementos—all lapses of time are so graciously overlooked, and the most unblushing halts on the part of the most notorious offender are rather implied than expressed. You will therefore be kindly pleased to accept my most humble and grateful acknowledgments for such unmerited mercy; and hoping for ever to profit by such benignity, I now beg leave to conclude my lengthened exordium.
As you appear to have seen my good friend Y—, you have no doubt heard from him most of the particulars connected with my recent change. I do, indeed, most fully believe, that I am in the spot to which I have been most evidently directed of the Lord; and in respect to outward comfort and suitableness of employment, I suppose I should hardly find another situation equally eligible; but, after all, I cannot help regretting the termination of my Mary le Port engagements. Much kindness have I received in various forms from my Madeley people—much also, and most strongly expressed, from my temporary charge at Yardley; but I never seemed to live so fully in the hearts of any of my people as those, from whom unavoidable circumstances have so recently separated me. I am persuaded, however, that all is right both for me and for them; and if developing circumstances should not reveal this to the eye of sense, yet that faith which brings its luminous atmosphere around the results of cautious procedure and humble dependence will cheer the mind with its present assurance, till it shall conduct us to that world where, without the least shadow of a misgiving, we shall acknowledge that our guiding and gracious Saviour “hath done all things well.” My outward path has indeed, for some time past, been in many respects somewhat mysterious and painfully perplexing; but such are frequently the movements even of those who not only have the cloudy pillar to guide them, but who also are careful to follow its guidance. And, even allowing that ourselves have not thus followed with this undeviating step, still we have the privilege of penitent return; and, from whatever point we may retrace our wandering step, we see the same heavenly guidance before us, waiting to conduct us onward in the unerring way.
I feel much obliged for your interesting allusion to Madeley procedures; your dispensary, infant-school, and clerical meeting, have all of them, not only the approval of my judgment, but of my heart. . . . And therefore I do, in all respects, most sincerely rejoice that the kind and gratifying permission of which you speak was ever given to me. My fear, however, is, lest you should be doing too much, encouraged by that half-untrue and sadly delusive maxim, “Better to wear away than to rust away.” I would rather have you patronise that far more prudential substitute suggested by the biographer of Leigh Richmond, “I labour less that I may labour longer.”
I do indeed most sincerely rejoice with you in the blessed testimony afforded to you by your endeared and dying sister, to the faithfulness of our gracious and Omnipotent Redeemer. How few are the families where the leavening influence of true religion has been more extensively or more blessedly experienced!
We had not heard of the arrival of our Ceylon friends till your last reached us. Most truly rejoiced shall we be to be permitted to meet them; but the notorious offender has some draw-back to his anticipated pleasure—a four or five years’ halt keeps haunting his perturbed mind. Nor let your gifted men of punctuality smile, as they read these compunctious movements—these reiterated confessions,—lest our insulted spirits spring from beneath the ignominious tread, and, elate with all the consciousness of our newly acquired powers, hold ourselves in readiness to repel the charge and to retaliate the affront.
You have heard, I suppose, of my having taken three pupils to instruct with my own children; my time, as you can readily imagine, is far from sluggishly employed; my health, however, is, and has been for some time past, through God’s blessing, unusually good. Within the last three weeks, I have been a little threatened with a return of Madeley feelings, but this has been through attempting too much.
Our united and very kindest love attends Mrs. C. yourself, and family, and
I remain, my dear Friend,
Yours, ever affectionately,
G. Mortimer.
The next step in the life of my endeared friend, which comes under our notice, is one which filled all his friends with surprise—one which they could not contemplate without much concern—one, the expediency of which, they could none of them fully perceive—one, indeed, which they could not but consider as uncalled for and unnecessary. I refer to his leaving England, and proceeding with his family to settle in Canada. At an earlier period of his life he appears to have been animated with a pure and holy zeal for the cause of missions to the heathen, and would, if his way had been open, most gladly have entered upon that self-denying service. But now he was not stimulated by such a motive; indeed, he can hardly be said to have made even ministerial duties his chief object: it was not to seek a new fortune in the vineyard of Christ, but to improve his worldly fortune for the temporal benefit of his children. I do not presume to censure Mr. Mortimer for this step, though I agree with many of his friends in considering it a very questionable measure. He was not like a man in needy circumstances; Providence had supplied him with a very comfortable independent income; one perfectly adequate to provide for all the reasonable wants of his family, and to enable him to place out his children in suitable situations, as they grew up; much more so, if I do not greatly mistake, and with much greater satisfaction, too, than he has been able to do in Canada. Where the object is the cause of God, I should be among the first to recommend a man to leave his home, his friends, and his country, and go to the very ends of the earth, if called to such a service; and I see no reason why men of business, if their disposition lead to it, though they possess even good properties, should not expatriate themselves for the purpose of commerce, or the increase of their fortune; but I hesitate as to granting the same liberty to the minister of Jesus Christ, especially where it has pleased his heavenly Father to furnish him with the necessary supplies of life in a tolerably competent measure. It is clearly the duty of a clergyman, as it is that of a layman, to make such provision for his family, in the event of his removal from them, as his circumstances will permit; but to make this the first object of consideration in determining upon an important movement in life—in leaving one’s own country and settling in another—does seem to me not very warrantable. Upon these considerations, I cannot, I confess, perfectly concur with my late beloved friend in the measure under contemplation. No doubt he was fully satisfied in his own mind of the propriety of the step on which he had determined, and that the accomplishment of it was in accordance with the path of duty and the order of Providence.
But let Mr. Mortimer speak for himself. Four, out of the five following letters, touch more or less upon the subject, and explain his views of the measure and of the desirableness of it. In the dark view taken in some of these letters of the prospects of his native country, the writer of them by no means stood alone; and though commerce seems to have recovered itself, and the prosperity of the nation has assumed a more promising aspect, yet the encouragement given to Popery by the State on the one hand, and the movement in the church towards the increase of its ranks, and the augmentation of its influence on the other; the unmanageable state of pauperism, and the ungovernable, and, I fear, to any considerable extent, the unimprovable condition of the peasantry and the poor of our great cities, cannot be contemplated by the Christian patriot without fear, alarm, and consternation. We are evidently in the state of a volcano, and everything seems to indicate a no very distant eruption, which may rase the foundations of the Church and State, and scatter misery and wretchedness, rapine and bloodshed, murder and destruction, over the face of the land. The elements of some general convulsion are preparing with a rapid progress; and awful, it is to be feared, will be the catastrophe, if, by timely repentance, the blow which threatens us, and which undoubtedly we deserve, be not averted. [164]
TO THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG.
Hutton, near Cross,
Somersetshire,
Nov. 1830.
My dear Armstrong,
I do indeed feel myself much obliged to you for kindly breaking through the impediments which my lengthened silence put in the way of our renewed intercourse. I often reproached myself for not writing; and yet there seemed such an awkwardness in recommencing, that I fear I should never have had courage to combat with it. But your truly welcome letter has opened my way, and I most gladly avail myself of the unexpected facility. But before I proceed to other matters, I ought to assure you that yours is not any personal or any peculiar or isolated case. All my friends, and even relatives, are successively neglected; and if it were not that so many of them are touched with a similar feeling of kindness with yourself, and ever and anon renew the needful impulse, I should soon be forsaken by them all, and find myself, what I so richly deserve, “a desolate old man.”
All your topics of communication cheer me. I truly rejoice with you in the erection of the church. It was a noble emprise, characteristic of my endeared friend, and peculiarly owned and blessed of his God; of its extent of good, eternity will alone unfold. Your account also of your dear children was read by me with much interest, and with real gratitude. How faithful is God. In the spirit of the Levite you have thrown up your inheritance among your brethren. And some of us, not sufficiently aware of the nature or extent of your faith, and but little called to tread in similar paths, were inwardly dreading some disastrous shock. But the whirlwind, the earthquake, and the fire, were only the creatures of our own imagination; while all that is real is “the still small voice” of our God, proclaiming, as is usual with him, to those who can trust him, his goodness, and his love. May the same goodness attend all the other branches of your dear family. And may you and your beloved wife be long spared to them, to the church, and the world.
I know your friendly feeling would prompt you to enquire respecting our several movements. But where shall I begin? All is and all has been well with us; and yet much has been transpiring which we little anticipated. The calls of our family have induced struggling and self-denial. My curate could not be retained. The tutor for my children, when he left for college, has not been replaced. First, his duties devolved on me; then the extra care of three pupils. Removing, too, has been attended with loss. And various other matters have all been tending toward the same point. But still I would reiterate the declaration—all is and has been well with us. To some spirits, struggling and difficulty is absolutely necessary. Like stagnant waters, they must be shaken, or they will acquire the evils consequent on inactivity.
I have for some years past been endeavouring to feel my way as to a settlement in one of our colonies; having little expectation of being able to settle my children at all advantageously in England. All I wished for was something in the shape of ministerial duty, without much regard to the emolument, but as a kind of satisfaction that I was not going out of the way of usefulness. But my inquiries were fruitless. Indeed my friends were not over anxious about my success. They mostly inclined to my remaining in England; and therefore did not, I believe, at all exert themselves. Now I begin to fancy that I am getting too old for such an experiment. Though possibly should anything desirable present itself, I should not wonder at my old feelings reviving. But I should not now be tempted, I think, with anything short of a chaplaincy; and these are so far from being come-at-able, that I consider my emigrating schemes as at an end. My views, however, with regard to my own country are still the same. I was never a national croaker; and have, I think, always been disposed to look at the bright side. Still I can anticipate nothing but rapidly increasing distress, and not very far distant ruin. And this has almost invariably been the case with great commercial nations. The influx of extraneous wealth, producing such increase of population, and such extent of luxury, and when these arrive at a certain point, other countries, other markets, successfully compete, and eventually surpass. At one of these points we are already arrived, and the retrograde impulse is beginning to be most painfully felt. All classes, indeed, are much suffering at present; and had it not pleased God to have given us a popular king and a most plenteous harvest, it is most generally believed that a revolution would ere this have taken place. Many, I know, are still dreading it. A letter which I received but a few days since from a General, a father of one of my pupils, is strongly expressive of the feelings which still prevail in the metropolis. To add to other causes of apprehension, we have just received the account of the resignation of the Wellington ministry. All is indeed perplexity. But still the Lord Omnipotent reigneth; all is in his hands. And possibly what we are dreading is only the small cloud of needless apprehension, which will either soon blow over, or only discharge itself in unexpected and undeserved mercies. But why should I allude to public events; for, with letters from your friends, you receive, no doubt, a budget of the public papers, which bring all these matters before you in all their diversified aspects and bearings.
As to my ministerial employments, I feel on the whole comfortably engaged. My sphere is but small; and my success not very apparent; and yet circumstances seem to require my continuance; nor does any moving of the cloud point out any other place. I therefore go labouring on; and should it please God to fix me eventually in some other situation, I shall find all the benefit from my past exertion; for I make a point of preparing one new sermon every week.
Mrs. G. M. unites with me in very kindest remembrance to yourself and dear Mrs. A.
And I remain, my much endeared Friend,
Yours, ever sincerely,
G. M.
TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.
Hutton, January, 1831.
My dear Friend,
I am much obliged by your kind and prompt communication respecting the removal of poor Mr. Burton, your vicar. I am afraid it will prove the precursor of many difficulties, both with regard to yourself and beloved Madeley. We must look, however, beyond these probable perplexities with that steady eye of faith on the promises and perfections of our ever faithful God, which shall enable us not only eventually, but at each successive movement, to feel the grateful persuasion that all is well. I hear from Mrs. D. W—, that Mr. B— gives her some encouragement to hope that your continuance there is more than probable. Should any aid be required under such an arrangement, I shall be happy to continue the £10 yearly which I have already devoted to this object, and I beg you will not feel the least scruple in the transfer.
I have been, with much contrivance, plotting an arrangement for you in conjunction with myself and Mr. H—, but one or two matters would not, I fear, fall in with your wishes, and therefore I have let this slip. I have written however to a dear friend to be on the look out for you, and shall try to call in other aid, as well as keep an observant eye myself. I feel persuaded that mercy is still in reserve for my much endeared friend. Mrs. M— unites with me in very kindest regards to yourself, Mrs. C—, and your family, and
I remain,
Yours, ever affectionately,
G. Mortimer.
TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.
Hutton, Aug. 9, 1831.
My dear Friend,
I did, indeed, intimate to Miss P. my intention to write to you at an early opportunity, and I am quite ashamed and sorry that I should have delayed doing this so long. Your very kind and most interesting letter, received a few days since, has not only opened my eyes, but warmed my heart; and, even were I disposed any longer to postpone, I should find it somewhat difficult to do it.
I do, indeed, most sincerely rejoice with you in all the goodness and mercy which have attended you during your residence in Madeley.
You kindly and delicately suppose that the incipient attentions showed you, on your first going there, were in some measure from their kindly feelings towards myself. Possibly, the glowing descriptions of a friend might have prepared the minds of many for expectation, and have procured for you the more than ordinary courtesies of introduction. But such expectations would have terminated in all the vexation of contrast, had there not been that suitableness in my dear friend which I had supposed, and which the parishioners were in no way backward to discover. It is with much gratitude to our God and Saviour that I look back on the whole of the past transaction: the circumstances which seemed indispensably to require my own separation from the dear people of Madeley; their hopelessness respecting a suitable successor; your willingness to accept the charge; the kind vicar’s willing consent; and the long interval of reciprocal endearment which has since been experienced—one so cordial, and so thorough * * * and, surely, that most munificent and touching act of their kindly feeling and high respect which they showed you on your departure, is no small proof of the accuracy of my supposition.
“Hitherto hath the Lord helped me,” may be the encouraging motto of my friend. And greatly will it rejoice me to hear that in his new, and yet more extensive sphere of labour, the same distinguishing mercy from on high attends him: you go accompanied with many prayers, and encouraged with many a cheering recollection of the past; and, what is more comforting, I will freely acknowledge, to my own mind, you go onward with a humble sense of your own nothingness; surprised at the results of mercy which you see; pausing, not in self-congratulation, but in lowly gratitude, to survey and express them.
* * * * * * * *
The account which you give of the new vicar is very encouraging, and answers, in all respects, to the other testimonies which have reached me.
The times seem peculiarly perilous, both politically and ecclesiastically; though I was never given to “croak,” yet I cannot but feel that we are on the eve of danger. God only can avert it, and in Him is my hope; but out of Him everything seems gloomy and foreboding. Could my dear wife see and feel with myself, I think it probable, that I should make some effort to escape from all this stormy wind and tempest, to some one or other of our colonial shores, and there endeavour to establish my family under more auspicious promises than those afforded by our native land: for the mercantile day of England has long been declining, and with our increasing population no very cheering prospects can be cherished. [171] My way, however, is not yet clear; and till my path is opened, I feel no desire to proceed. With your own large family, thoughts of the future will no doubt, at times, be attempting anxiously to intrude. But I know full well the accustomed sobriety of your mind, and can easily imagine how quietly and peacefully you leave these bewildering anticipations with Him who has encouraged us to cast all our care upon Himself. In this, as in other respects, may I ever be endeavouring to follow you.
We are truly glad to hear of Mrs. C.’s amended health, and of the comfort which you have in your residence and situation. It seems, indeed, in all respects, the very place for you, and long may you and your beloved wife be spared to reside among them. Our united and very kind regards attend you both, and all the members of your dear family.
Believe me ever to remain,
Your very sincerely attached,
G. M.
TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.
Hutton, March 6, 1832.
My dear Friend,
I believe you are almost the only one to whom this peculiar and endearing appellation is considered by me as truly belonging, who has not as yet been made acquainted with my intended movements. Had it been at all practicable, I should have taken you in my way, in my late lengthened tour to Hull, Raithby, and London; but circumstances would not then admit this, and I cannot now indulge the hope. A similar tour, about eight years since, found you in Liverpool, and my residence in Shropshire; and then I was permitted to enjoy with you a few hours. But much as my spirit has always been refreshed with the pleasing and profitable intercourse with yourself, a few hours lately would have been particularly valued by me; for I know not whether such may ever again, in this world, be afforded me; my late tour having been a leave-taking visit previous to my finally leaving this country for Ohio.
I know not what your views may be on the subject of emigration, for I do not recollect to have touched upon it in any of our conversations. My own mind, however, has, for many years past, been directed towards it, and I have only been waiting for the most eligible opportunity of putting my plans into execution. My three sons go with me in the first instance, and in a few months after, my dear wife and three daughters. Our mutual friend, the Rev. Josiah Pratt, has written to Bishops Chase and McIlvaine, about ministerial employment, and I expect to hear from them soon. But, I understand, there is a great want of Episcopalian ministers throughout the United States; they are, therefore, gladly welcomed, and handsomely supported, so that I have no grounds to fear in this respect. The climate also of the State, to which I am intending to proceed, is considered as very fine and healthy, and living is little more than one half of what it is even in country places here. In addition to these advantages, I hope, with God’s blessing, to find remunerating employment, and suitable settlement for my children—a matter which has been long perplexing me, and of which there is certainly no prospect in this country. I had intended at first to have made an extensive purchase of uncultivated land, which, in the inland States, is selling for two or three dollars an acre; but this plan I have relinquished; for my ministerial avocations, and the settlement of my children, together with the enjoyment of suitable society, were hardly compatible with a situation surrounded by uncultivated districts. I am thinking of sailing from Liverpool, in preference to Bristol, as I hear that the accommodations are much superior, and the time of sailing more certain. Do you know any friend there to whom you could obligingly write yourself, or recommend to me to apply to, who would be so good as, first to make enquiries about the packets, and finally bargain for me? I wish to sail as soon as I can after Easter-day, April 22; and I want five cabin places, for myself, three sons, and a pupil, or protegé. During your residence in the vicinity of Liverpool you may, probably, have become acquainted with some persons now resident in America, to whom an introduction might prove to me of considerable service. It is, indeed, held forth as the land of liberty, prosperity, and religion; but there is no place in which we shall not find the need of friends; and, especially, will they be valuable in a strange land. If, then, you could obligingly help me in this matter, I should feel much indebted to you. I am particularly desirous of getting my books exempted from duty, if I possibly could. I have diminished these, with many a shrinking feeling, to about one-third of their number; but, even now, there are four hundred weight, and the duty is one shilling and three pence per pound, on bound volumes, the chief of which mine are. Books are, in fact, my implements of trade; almost all of them either ministerial or scholastic; and as the common artisan is permitted to take his tools, why should not the minister and tutor his? Perhaps, the justness of this would be allowed on our arrival at New York, if I could be put in the way of obtaining it.
Strange and startling, perhaps, as my projected movements may seem to you on their announcement, I shall not venture to ask you whether revolving months or years may induce my Madeley successor to follow my steps. Unprepared, however, as he may be, at present, for such a scheme, even in imagination, it would be no matter of surprise to me, should he, ere long, be as fully persuaded as myself of its expediency. Beneficed clergymen, who have charges they cannot without much cost, either of feeling, or temporal sacrifice, detach themselves from, may see it their bounden duty to remain; those, also, who have connexions which may help to settle their children in after life, or those who have only one or two children to provide for—these may still linger in their once prosperous, and ever endeared country; but the unbeneficed—unpatronized heads of large families must, I fear, sooner or later decamp. “Our hive” (as our mutual friend Mr. Pratt, observed to me) “is too full, and we must lead out our respective swarms.” But may the God of providence and grace ever guide us, and, wherever we either go or remain, may He both “bless us, and make us a blessing.” Our very kindest love attends yourself, dear Mrs. C., and your family, and I remain,
My dear Friend,
Yours, ever sincerely,
George Mortimer.
TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.
Hutton, June 6, 1832.
My endeared Friend,
I leave Hutton to day for Bristol, and expect to go on board the brig Active for New York, to-morrow; and, as my only remaining means of communication, I take up my pen to bid you adieu. Had I sailed from Liverpool, as I was once intending, I should certainly have endeavoured to have spent a few hours with yourself and family; but the expenses of travelling and of conveying luggage so far across the country, together with the higher charges in the Liverpool vessels, obliged me to consult my purse rather than my feelings; and I am persuaded that my endeared friend will not be the first to censure me.
We are now proceeding to Upper Canada by the way of the United States; and though the climate is somewhat colder in winter, and hotter in summer, than our own, it is considered as very fine and healthy. To myself also it has this no small recommendation, that it is under British Government, and is principally inhabited by British settlers.
I have used all endeavours to procure ministerial employment there, but as yet in vain. Our present leading men are too liberal to give support to any religious object; and the Canada company prefer the recommendations which arise from local knowledge and representations. But on this latter account, I still hope, that when I arrive there, I shall not be long before I hear of some situation or other in which I may be usefully employed. Some desirable introductions to residents have been kindly afforded me.
The want of religious instruction is almost the only drawback from the Canadas. In many instances persons are thirty or forty miles from a place of worship. This, however, is no small call on the superabundant labourers among ourselves; and I do expect, that ere long this call will be fully regarded.
And now my endeared friend, what shall I say as to all the comfort—the unmixed satisfaction—which, for so many years, I have been permitted to enjoy in our occasional intercourse? To our gracious and faithful Redeemer let us give all the praise! And may we ever be looking forward to the time, when the friendship of earth shall be followed by the blissful and never terminating enjoyments of heaven.
Mrs. G. M. begs to be united with me in kindest remembrances to yourself, Mrs. C., and family, and I remain, my endeared Friend,
Yours, ever sincerely,
George Mortimer.