CHAPTER IV.
UNIVERSITY DAYS—1683—1688.

Samuel Wesley left the Dissenters in 1683. Why? His son, the Rev. John Wesley, shall answer. His statement is as follows:—

“Some severe invectives being written against the Dissenters, Mr S. Wesley, being a young man of considerable talents, was pitched upon to answer them. This set him on a course of reading, which soon produced an effect different from what had been intended. Instead of writing the wished-for answer, he himself conceived he saw reason to change his opinions; and actually formed a resolution to renounce the Dissenters, and attach himself to the Established Church. He lived at that time with his mother and an old aunt, both of whom were too strongly attached to the Dissenting doctrines to have borne, with any patience, the disclosure of his design. He therefore got up one morning, at a very early hour, and, without acquainting any one with his purpose, set out on foot to Oxford, and entered himself of Exeter College.”

Samuel Wesley’s own account is, in substance, the following:—While he was a student in the Dissenting academies in London, Dr Owen wished him and some others to graduate at the universities, on the ground that the Dissenters were expecting the times to change, and that in a little while their party would be looked upon with greater favour, and their pupils be allowed to take university degrees. Owen, however, insisted that on no account whatever ought they to take the oaths and subscriptions.

While Wesley was still in doubt whether to adopt Dr Owen’s advice, he began to study for himself the usual arguments for separating from the Church. He writes—“I earnestly implored the divine direction in a business of so weighty a concern, and on which so much of my whole life depended. I examined things over and over, as calmly and impassionately as possible; and the farther I looked, still the more the mist cleared up, and things appeared in another sort of light than I had seen them in all my life before. So far were the sufferings of the Dissenters at that time from influencing my resolution to leave them, that, I profess, it was a thing which retarded me most of any. The ungenerosity of quitting them in their meaner fortunes, when I had been a sharer in their better, I knew not how to get over. Still, I began to have some inclinations to the University, if I knew how to get thither, or to live there when I came; but then I was not acquainted with one soul of the Church of England, or, at least, with none to whom I might address myself for assistance or advice.

“I was now offered employment among the Dissenters, (having been with them nearly four years,) either in a gentleman’s house, or as chaplain to an East Indian ship; but my inclinations were more for Oxford, where, I thought, I might have opportunities more fully to study the point which I was now almost resolved upon.

“Still there were some rubs lay in my way thither, which our people generally urged to prevent us from such intentions. I was told (1.) that the Universities were so scandalously debauched that there was no breathing for a sober man in them; (2.) that the Church of England, so far from encouraging Dissenters to close with her communion, generally frowned on those who did so, and never loved nor trusted them; and (3.) that the nation was so unanimously against the Church of England, that the bishops and hierarchy would certainly have a speedy fall; and even rats and mice were wise enough to quit a tumbling house, and not to run into it.”

In reference to the first of these objections, he says—“I resolved not to believe a word about Oxford debauchery till I saw it, for which now a very happy opportunity offered. Dr Owen having died, the trustees of the £10 exhibition[18] requested me to enter the university with all speed. To this end I went to Oxford, and stayed there some time. I found many sober and religious men, as well as some Rakehells; and discoursed several points on which I still hesitated a little, and received satisfaction on them.”

He adds, that having been so long with the Dissenters, he still thought, even after he went to Oxford, that Episcopacy would be abolished; and not being willing to be over hasty, he returned to London to give the subject further consideration. Soon after his return, he had £20 given him,—part of a considerable some of money, left by a Dissenter, to be distributed among ministers. With this he paid his debts, as far as it would go, and then resolved for Oxford as soon as possible,—whither accordingly he went, in the name of God, and entered himself there, the —— day in August 1683, a servitor of Exeter College.

When he had been some months at college, and after several letters had passed between them, he was “followed by a young gentleman, one of his fellow-pupils at his first tutor’s, who was now a Fellow of Exeter College, and ordained a priest.”[19]

This is all that is known of the reasons that induced Samuel Wesley to leave the Church of his fathers, except another little incident mentioned by himself. He writes—“A reverend and worthy person, my relation, who lived at a great distance, coming to London, was so kind as to see me while I was at Mr Morton’s, and gave me such arguments against the Dissenting schism, which I was then embarked with, as added weight to my resolutions, when I began to think of leaving it.”

The above account differs from the accounts which previous biographers have published; but, being taken from Mr Wesley’s own writings, there can be no doubt of its correctness.

When Samuel Wesley set out for Oxford, all that he possessed was forty-five shillings. By leaving the Dissenters, he had forfeited the friendship of all the friends he had. His mother was a poor forlorn widow, utterly unable to afford him help; and yet, this well-nigh penniless young man resolves to obtain for himself a university education and university degrees. He was nearly five years at college; and yet, five shillings was all the assistance which, during that period, he received from his family and friends. To ride to college was a thing not to be thought about. To use his own expression, he “footed it.” His books, his clothes, and his other luggage, were all probably carried in a knapsack on his back. Thus the young student entered Oxford, friendless and well-nigh moneyless, in 1683; and, five years after, he left it, not dishonoured, but with B.A. attached to his subsequently distinguished name,—having managed to support himself, and to pay his fees, by his own endeavours, and to bring away with him a purse more than four times heavier than the purse he took. He started with forty-five shillings: he left with two hundred and fifteen. How was this accomplished? We shall shortly see.

The following description of Exeter College is taken from “A Pocket Companion for Oxford,” published in the middle of the eighteenth century:—The front of Exeter College is 220 feet long, in the centre of which is a magnificent gate, with a tower over it. The building within chiefly consists of a large quadrangle, formed by the hall, the chapel, the rector’s lodgings, and the chambers of the students. The gardens are neatly disposed, and, though within the town, have an airy and pleasant opening to the east. The library is well furnished with books in the several arts and sciences, and with a very valuable collection of the classics, given by Edward Richards, Esq. It also contains a large orrery, the gift of Thomas Blackall, Esq. The hall was built by Sir John Ackland, and the chapel by Dr Hakewell. Hakewell was a man of eminence. Having been appointed chaplain to Prince Charles, he deemed it his duty to attempt to convince his royal pupil that he would act wisely in abandoning his contemplated marriage with the Infanta of Spain. This so enraged Charles’s father, that he ordered Hakewell to be arrested and imprisoned. Under the reign of Charles, however, he was promoted to the bishopric of Worcester, and was elected Rector of Exeter College. When the civil wars commenced, he submitted to the authority of Parliament, and retained his office as rector of the college till his death, in 1649. His chief work is a folio volume, on the “Power and Providence of God.”

The founder of Exeter College was Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, Lord Treasurer of England, and Secretary of State to King Edward II., 1316. He founded a society of thirteen—that is, a rector and twelve fellows—one of whom, the chaplain, was to be appointed by the dean and chapter of Exeter; eight were to be elected out of the archdeaconries of Exeter, Totnes, and Barnstaple; and four out of the archdeaconry of Cornwall. Among the subsequent benefactors of Exeter College was Edmund Stafford, Bishop of Exeter, who settled two fellowships for the diocese of Sarum. Sir William Petre obtained a new charter and new statutes, and founded eight additional fellowships. Charles I. added one for Jersey and Guernsey; and Mrs Shiers added two more for Hertford and Surrey. The number of students was about eighty, and the visitor was the Bishop of Exeter.

Samuel Wesley entered this college as a servitor. A “servitor” means a scholar or student, who attends and waits on another scholar or student, and receives, as a compensation, his maintenance. Such was the position of young Wesley. There was no help for it. He was determined to secure the benefits of a university education; and, in the absence of money and of friends, he became a servant to some other scholar in order to find himself bread. There was no disgrace in this; and yet, it is not difficult to imagine that such a “servitor,” notwithstanding his cleverness, would be subjected to taunts from beardless youths, who, in all respects excepting one, were vastly his inferiors. Here was a young man, twenty-one years of age, respectably connected, highly educated, but well-nigh as poor as poverty could make him, resolved upon the acquisition of academic fame; and, in the struggle, battling with his innate pride, and patiently, if not cheerfully, submitting to annoyances for the sake of obtaining that upon which his heart was set. Difficulties, which would have discouraged others, aroused him; and he resolved to conquer or to die.

Samuel Wesley was a servitor; and he was also entered as pauper scholaris, which was the lowest of the four conditions of members of the Exeter College. He began as low as he could begin; but struggling with discouragements increased his strength instead of lessening it. He rose superior to his obstacles. Besides attending to the humiliating duties of a servitor, he composed exercises for those who had more money than mind, and gave instructions to those who wished to profit by his lessons; and thus, by unwearied toil and great frugality, the poor, fatherless, and friendless scholar, not only managed to support himself, but when he retired from Oxford in 1688, he was seven pounds fifteen shillings richer than he was when he first entered it in 1683. Who can tell his struggles during the five years of privation spent at this great seat of learning? His servitorial services might obtain him bread; but what about the payment of his fees, the purchase of his clothes, and the procuring of fire? The first winter of his residence at Oxford, was one of the severest recorded in the annals of English history. Calamy tells us that “the Thames was frozen over, and the ice so firm and strong, that there were hundreds of booths and shops upon it. Coaches plied as freely from the Temple Stairs to Westminster, as if they had gone upon the land. All sorts of diversions were practised on the congealed waters, and even an ox was roasted whole on the river, over against Whitehall.” Such was the bitter commencement of Samuel Wesley’s collegiate life; and, at the most, he only had about two pounds, in his almost needless purse, to meet it.

“Necessity is the mother of invention.” It was this, probably, that induced Samuel Wesley to publish his first work in 1685. Whilst he was at Mr Veal’s and Mr Morton’s academies, he wrote a number of boyish rhymes, several of which were recited from the platforms of those academies, and gained applause from the tutors and pupils present. Other poetical pieces of a similar description were written after he went to Oxford; and the whole, during the second year of his residence, were published under the title of “Maggots; or Poems on several subjects never before handled, by a Scholar, London. Printed for John Dunton, at the sign of the Black Raven, near the Royal Exchange, 1685.”

This book will neither instruct the reader, nor contribute to the author’s literary fame; and yet, because it was the first book published by an eminent literary man; and because it is now so extremely scarce, that hardly one Wesleyan student in a thousand has ever seen it, a brief description of it may be interesting, if not useful.

The book begins with an anonymous portrait of the author, crowned with laurel, and having a Maggot seated on his brow. Beneath the portrait are the following lines:—

“In his own defence the author writes,
Because when this foul maggot bites,
He ne’er can rest in quiet:
Which makes him make so sad a face,
He’d beg your worship, or your grace,
Unsight, unseen, to buy it.”

The book consists of 172 pages; and is dedicated “To the honoured Mr H. D——, Head Master of the Free School in D——, in the county of D——.” “Mr H. D——” was Mr Henry Dolling, who was Samuel Wesley’s schoolmaster at Dorchester. In the dedication, he informs us that this book is his “first formed birth,” and, in his epistle to the reader, he says that “all the Maggots are the natural issue of his own brain pan, born and bred there, and only there.” In reply to the objection, that the work is “light, vain, frothy, and below the gravity of a man, at least of a Christian,” he says, if the objector will lend him a handful of beard, and be at the charge of grafting it on, he will promise a speedy and thorough reformation. Besides, he argues, that time ought to be allowed for recreation as well as work; and, moreover, he hopes that he has written nothing to make even himself or his reader blush. He was never vain enough to think that his “Maggots” would procure him much reputation; neither was he ambitious of seeing his worthy name glittering in a Term Catalogue; and therefore he thought it not worth his while to throw away better time in making his book more perfect.[20]

Many of the poems flash with wit, and are most pleasantly expressed. Sometimes there is a want of delicacy; but that, perhaps, is not so much the fault of the man, as of the age in which he wrote. Southey says, “His imagination seems to have been playful and diffuse; and had he written during his son’s celebrity, some of his pieces might perhaps have been condemned by the godly as profane.” Dr A. Clarke demurs to this, and not without reason. There are in the “Maggots” what the present refined age would call indelicate and coarse expressions; but, in this respect, Samuel Wesley was only imitating Dryden and the standard writers of the period in which he lived.

Several of the poems are levelled against the vices of the day, and are scorchingly severe; but it would scarcely answer any good purpose to reproduce them.

We merely give one extract, taken from the piece on “the Tobacco Pipe,” and which is a fair specimen of the entire book. Perhaps, also, it indicates that he had already fallen into the unfortunate habit of smoking, which will have to be noticed in due time:—

“In these raw mornings, when I’m freezing ripe,
What can compare with a tobacco pipe?
Primed, cock’d, and touch’t, ’twould better heat a man
Than ten Bath faggots, or Scotch warming pan.
For the toothache ’tis a specific aid,
For every amorous boy, or lovesick maid.
Sometimes another way to work ’twill go,
Up spouts a deluge from the abyss below;—
This physic is more safe, (though not so fine,)
Than bumpers crown’d too oft with sparkling wine.
A glass is not a better cure than that,
For care, or toothache, both of which would kill a cat.
Surely when Prometheus climb’d above the poles,
Slyly to learn their art of making souls,
When of his fire he fretting Jove did wipe,
He stole it thence in a tobacco pipe;
Which, predisposed to live, as down he ran,
By the soul’s plastic power, from clay was turn’d to man.”

In the “Dunciad”[21] of Alexander Pope, there is a line which seems to refer to Samuel Wesley’s “Maggots.” The reference is not clear and undeniable; but still it has an air of probability. In his first book, line 53, Pope writes:—

“Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep,
Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep,
’Till genial Jacob, or a warm third day
Call forth each mass, a poem or a play.
How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie!
How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry!
Maggots half form’d, in rhyme, exactly meet,
And learn to crawl upon poetic feet!
Here one poor word a hundred clenches makes,
And ductile dulness new meanders takes;
There motley images her fancy strike,
Figures ill-pair’d, and similes unlike.”

This first book of Samuel Wesley’s was published by the eccentric John Dunton, who was born three years before Wesley, and therefore was now a young publisher, of not more than twenty-six years of age. His father was a clergyman, and he was intended for the same profession; but, being found too volatile, he was apprenticed to Thomas Parkhurst, the most eminent Presbyterian bookseller in the three kingdoms. Wesley was acquainted with Dunton before he went to Oxford. A year previous to his removal thither, he was present at Dunton’s wedding, and presented to the happy couple an epithalamium. The object of Dunton’s choice was Elizabeth, one of the daughters of Dr Samuel Annesley, and sister of her who six years afterwards became the wife of Wesley. Dunton commenced business near the Royal Exchange. His affairs prospered for the first three years, until the stagnation cast upon trade by the defeat of Monmouth in the west. In the same year that he published Wesley’s “Maggots,” he sustained some serious losses, and went to America to repair his fortune. Twelve months afterwards, he came back to his wife and to her father; but, on account of his pecuniary embarrassments, he was, for nearly a year, a sort of domestic prisoner, and, to avoid arrest, durst not cross the threshold of the house in which he lived. The only time, in the course of ten months, that he ventured to go out of doors, was on a Sunday to hear Dr Annesley, his father-in-law, preach. To prevent detection, he shaved off his beard, and put on a woman’s clothes. He got safe to the meeting-house, and sat down in the obscurest corner he could find. He was returning home, through Bishopsgate Street, with all the circumspection and care imaginable, when an unlucky rogue cried out, “I’ll be hanged if that be not a man in woman’s clothes!” Away Dunton ran as fast as his legs could carry him; a mob of twenty or thirty persons ran after him; but his intimate knowledge of the alleys in that part of the city, enabled him to dodge and get rid of his pursuers, and, in great trepidation he reached his house without arrest.[22] Dunton became wearied with this confinement, and made a trip to Holland, Flanders, and Germany, and returned to London in 1688. On the same day that the Prince of Orange entered the capital, Dunton re-opened his place of business. Here he printed six hundred books, and says, there were only seven of them which occasioned him repentance. In 1692 he became possessed of a considerable estate, by the decease of a cousin, and was elected a member of the Company of Stationers. At the age of thirty-eight he was bereaved of his first wife, whose decease he bitterly lamented; but, before the year was out, consoled himself by another marriage with Sarah, daughter of Mrs Nicholas of St Albans. This lady added neither to his comfort nor his fortune. He left her soon after they were married, and became financially embarrassed to the end of life. He died in obscurity two years before Samuel Wesley, in 1733, aged seventy-four.

Dunton was a strange mortal; a man half mad, and yet possessed of genius, and a dabbler in all sorts of books. In 1710 he produced his “Athenianism; or, New Projects,” in which he actually announced his intention to publish six hundred distinct treatises, all written by himself. He was far too wild and whimsical to be prosperous.

His description of himself is amusingly characteristic. He says, he was of middle stature; his hair black and curled; his eyes quick and full of spirit; his lips red and soft; his face, though not so beautiful as some, yet rendered amiable by a cheerful, sprightly air; his body slender and well proportioned; and his spirit pious and devout. He was plentiful in wit; his way of writing excellent; he had great skill in poetry; his temper was sweet; and he was the most passionate and constant lover living. His friendship was courted by all who knew him. He was hard to be displeased; and, when offended, was easy to be reconciled. His soul was tender and compassionate; and his modesty more than usually great.

In completing this modest portraiture of himself, Dunton adds, “To finish this imperfect description, I must sincerely say, I have all those good qualities that are necessary to render me an accomplished gentleman.”

Such was John Dunton, the publisher of Samuel Wesley’s first literary production. Dunton says, “The rector of Epworth got his bread by the ‘Maggots;’” but Dunton, when he wrote that, had imbibed an implacable hatred towards Wesley, and what he says must be received with caution. No doubt the college finances of young Wesley were extremely low, and, perhaps, in publishing his “Maggots,” he had some hope of raising them; but it is scarce likely that the poor scholar would gain much by his adventure, inasmuch as, from the size of his book, the publishing price did not probably exceed a shilling.

Samuel Wesley’s time at the university was well occupied. First of all, he had to attend to his duties as servitor, for on that, to some extent, his maintenance depended. Then, to obtain money for the payment of his fees, he gave assistance to other students not so far advanced, nor so willing to submit to hard work as he was. Then he had to prepare for his own examinations, on the result of which depended his obtaining a university degree; and this he did so successfully, that on the 19th of June 1688, he was created Bachelor of Arts; the only student of Exeter College that, during that year, obtained such a distinction.[23]

Such labours were onerous; but, whilst his time must have been greatly occupied with his daily duties, his benevolent heart would not permit him to live wholly to himself. He was not only ambitious to raise himself, but he likewise yearned to benefit others; and, it is a remarkable coincidence, that the objects of his sympathy were exactly of the same class as those who, forty-five years afterwards, were visited and helped by his sons, John and Charles, and the other Oxford Methodists. Notwithstanding the weightiness of his college work, and the lightness of his college purse, he found time to visit the poor wretched inmates of Oxford Gaol, and gladly relieved them as far as he was able. Writing to his two sons, in 1730, when they had begun, of their own accord, to visit the same prison house, he says:—“Go on, in God’s name, in the path to which your Saviour has directed you, and that track wherein your father has gone before you! For when I was an undergraduate at Oxford I visited those in the castle there, and reflect on it with great satisfaction to this day. Walk as prudently as you can, though not fearfully, and my heart and prayers are with you.”[24]

When Samuel Wesley had spent about eighteen months at the university King Charles II. died, and James II. succeeded him. A few months afterwards, Oxford was honoured with a visit from this papistical monarch, and an event happened which exercised an important influence on Wesley’s subsequent career. One of the historians of Methodism has said, it is a remarkable fact that, though Samuel Wesley had “the piety and persecutions of his father and grandfather in his memory, and though the condition and tendencies of the court were open to his inspection, he was very much attached to the interests of King James.”

This statement rests entirely on the testimony of Dr A. Clarke, who says, “His son John has been heard to state that at first his father was very much attached to the interests of James.” It is deferentially submitted whether this is strictly true. It is scarce likely that a young man of intelligence, scholarship, and honour, like Samuel Wesley; a young man whose father and grandfather had been ejected from their churches, and hunted to their graves by the myrmidons of Stuart perfidy; and a young man, whose entire life had been spent in the society and schools of those who hated, and had just cause to hate, the Stuart dynasty; we say it is scarce likely that such a young man would feel either much attachment, or any attachment at all, to a despotic and royal traitor like the one just mentioned. But, be that as it may, the occurrence which happened at Oxford, and which is about to be related, exercised an important influence on Samuel Wesley’s subsequent behaviour.

Almost immediately after James’s accession, in 1685, he obtained the appointment of one Massey, a Papist, as Dean of Christ Church, Oxford. He likewise secured for Obadiah Walker, master of University College, a concealed Papist, a licence for publishing popish books,—a licence of which Walker had the courage to avail himself, for he immediately established in his college both a printing press and a popish chapel. All this naturally created great excitement. Soon after, in January 1687, the noble family of Petre (of whom Father Edward Petre was one) claimed the right of nomination to seven fellowships in Exeter College, in which Samuel Wesley was a student. It was acknowledged on the part of the college that Sir William Petre, who had founded the fellowships, in the reign of Elizabeth, and likewise his son, had both exercised the power of nomination, though the latter, as they contended, had nominated only by sufferance. The Bishop of Exeter, the visitor of the college, had, in the reign of James I., pronounced an opinion against the founder’s descendants, and a judgment had been obtained against them in the Court of Common Pleas. Under the sanction of these authorities, the college had, for seventy years, nominated to these fellowships without disturbance from the family of Petre. Alibone, the popish lawyer, contended that this long usage, which would otherwise have been conclusive, deserved little consideration in a period of such iniquity towards Catholics, who had been deterred from asserting their civil rights. King James took up the matter, and demanded from the university that they should acknowledge a right in Father Petre to name seven fellows of Exeter College. This the university most firmly resisted, and the question was referred to the Courts of Westminster. All this added fuel to the fire already kindled.

But James’s illegal and arbitrary conduct proceeded still further. He commanded the Fellows of Magdalen College to elect, as their Master, one Antony Farmer, another concealed Papist. The Fellows petitioned his Majesty, but finding him not to be moved, they exercised their own undoubted right, and elected Dr Howe. A new mandate was issued to the college to elect Parker, Bishop of Oxford. This man had been a zealous Puritan preacher under the Commonwealth, a bigoted High Churchman at the Restoration, and was now a papistical prelate, through his popish servility to James II. He died a few months after, as destitute of virtue as of judgment—a drunkard and a miser—unlamented and even despised by all good men. The Fellows of Magdalen College refused to accept of James’s nominee, and, with commendable spirit, stuck to the Master of their own choosing. James was inexpressibly annoyed; and, in the course of the summer of 1687, arrived at Oxford. The unmanageable Fellows of Magdalen were summoned into the royal presence, and were chid for their disobedience. Samuel Wesley was present, and was an intensely interested spectator of the disreputable scene. “You have not dealt with me like gentlemen!” cried the weakly, arrogant, and furious king; “you have been unmannerly as well as undutiful. Is this your Church of England loyalty? I could not have believed that so many clergymen of the Church of England would have been concerned in such a business. Go home!—get you gone! I am king! I will be obeyed! Go to your chapel this instant, and admit the Bishop of Oxford. Let those who refuse look to it; they shall feel the whole weight of my hand; they shall know what it is to incur the displeasure of their sovereign!”

Here was a call for passive obedience from the very lips of the Lord’s anointed, but still the Fellows were uncowed; and answering the royal tyrant respectfully but firmly, they insisted on their right. They were then privately warned that they would be proceeded against by quo warranto, and inevitably loselose everything. But still the gownsmen were firm. The king was astonished and enraged, and issued a commission to examine the state of the college, with full power to alter the statutes and frame new ones. The chief of this Commission was Cartwright, Bishop of Chester, who, like Parker, had been a Puritan in the days of Cromwell, then a flaming Churchman under Charles, and was now a drunken tool in the hands of James. The Commissioners arrived at Oxford on the 20th of October 1687; but Master Howe maintained his rights, and the rights of the body which had elected him. On the second day, the Commissioners deprived him of his Mastership, struck his name from the books, and bound him in a penalty of £1000 to appear in the King’s Bench. Parker was put into possession by force, and a majority of the Fellows were at length prevailed upon to submit to royal dictation.

This ought to have satisfied the imperious monarch; but it was not enough, and he now insisted that the Fellows should acknowledge their disobedience and repentance in a written submission; but right nobly they resisted this stretch of tyranny, withdrew their former submission, and declared in writing that they could not acknowledge they had done aught amiss. This led to further outrages; and, on the 16th of November, judgment was pronounced against them in the shape of a general deprivation and expulsion. But even this was not sufficient to appease James’s vengeance; and hence, a month afterwards, another sentence was issued, incapacitating all and every of the Fellows of Magdalen from holding any benefice or preferment in the Church. James also declared that he would look upon any favour shown to the Fellows as a combination against himself. They were accordingly expelled; their places in the university were filled by avowed Papists, or by very doubtful Protestants; and they themselves were left to find employment and a maintenance in the best way they could. James intended to hinder even their friends offering them assistance; but, notwithstanding his contemptible threats, considerable collections were made for them; and his own daughter, the Princess of Orange, sent over £200 for their relief; so that, in the end, though they obtained the honours of martyrdom, they experienced little of its sufferings. Twelve months after their expulsion their intolerant oppressor made a miserable flight to France, and the Prince of Orange stepped into his place.[25]

It was in the midst of such disreputable proceedings that Samuel Wesley finished his collegiate training, and left the excited seat of learning where he had spent the last five years. As already stated, he was present when James lectured the Fellows of Magdalen College in such unkingly fashion; and Dr Clarke relates, on the authority of the Rev. Thomas Stedman, that the spirit of young Wesley rose in rebellion against this exhibition of royal arrogance, and that he afterwards remarked: “When I heard him say to the Master and Fellows of Magdalen College, lifting up his lean arm, ‘If you refuse to obey me, you shall feel the weight of a king’s right hand,’ I saw he was a tyrant. And though I was not inclined to take an active part against him, I was resolved from that time to give him no kind of support.”

This may be true, and yet there is considerable difficulty in reconciling it with another fact which must be mentioned.

It was during the summer of 1687 that King James played the tyrant in Magdalen College, and it was on the 10th of June 1688 that the Prince of Wales was born. The words of young Wesley, as cited by Dr Clarke, are evidence that he had formed the purpose to take no part with those who were intent upon the dethronement of James. He was a man far too loyal to become a rebel; and yet it cannot be denied that he regarded the interests of James with indifference. “I was resolved,” says he, “from that time to give him no support.” While James was king he would obey him; but while bowing to the royal will, he would do nothing to maintain and to establish the royal cause. Such was Wesley’s position in the summer of 1687—one of neutrality, or, at the most, of mere obedience.

But twelve months afterwards, at the birth of the Prince of Wales, a change seems to have come over him. The nation took but little interest in this event; in fact, it, was alleged that the birth of a royal prince was a royal imposition; and though the court commanded London to make bonfires, and to exhibit other signs of rejoicing, London was sullen, and would provide no rejoicings, except for the seven bishops which were then imprisoned in the Tower, but for whose rescue from the royal tyranny of James the country was most earnestly hoping. Among other means which were used to extort congratulations respecting the royal birth, was a more than mere gentle hint to the University of Oxford that it would be expected to furnish a volume of congratulatory poems, and that even Magdalen College itself would join in this.[26] Strange to say, the hint was adopted, and a book was written containing more than a hundred poetic pieces professing joy at the birth of a Prince of Wales.

That volume is now before us. Its title-page bears the following inscription:—“Strenæ Natalitiæ Academiæ Oxoniensis, in Clarissimum Principem: Oxonii E Theatro Sheldoniano. An. Dom. 1668.” It consists of 86 folio pages, each of which is headed, “In Natalem Sereniss. Principis Walliæ.” About ninety of the poems are in Latin, two are in Greek, four in Arabic, one in Hebrew, and twelve in English. The celebrated Hebrew professor, Dr Edward Pococke, wrote his in Arabic. Samuel Wesley and eleven others wrote theirs in English. Most of the colleges, Magdalen included, are represented. The writers belonging to Exeter College are, Sir Henry Northcote, Bart., John Read, Henry Maundrell, and Samuel Wesley. Wesley’s poem is the last but two in the book, and fills two pages. The poem is too long for insertion here, but the reader will find it complete, with the exception of about half a dozen small errors, in Dr Clarke’s “Wesley Family.” Suffice it to say, that Wesley represents Ariosto as bringing his lyre from heaven to join in the rejoicings. Ariosto also draws “a vocal picture” of the royal group. The “dazzling lustre” of all the graces shines around the eyes of the happy Queen; “Great James’s” joy is “too bright to be expressed,” and therefore the poet puts “a modest veil around his radiant head;” while the infant prince has his mother’s eyes, through which, however, shines his father’s soul. The child is “a child of miracles,” and a “son of prayers;” he is to defend “his father’s mighty throne,” and to give “Europe peace;” he is to have “valiant brothers,” who will “share in his triumphs;” and when he visits Oxford, the “venerable men, who met Great James his father, will also crowd around him.” As the result of his reign, there will be no “cloudy foreheads,” and “no contracted brows;”—in fact, a “new world” will “begin,” and a “golden age” commence.

This is the substance of Samuel Wesley’s poem. The young prince is most lavishly extolled; but the only praise bestowed on the father is that he was “great,” and perhaps “brave” and loving. At first sight, the poem seems to clash with the statement that Samuel Wesley had resolved, twelve months before, to yield to James nothing more than mere obedience; but, in reality, there is no such collision. Wesley had no sympathy with James’s tyrannical proceedings; but, at the same time, he could not deny, what most historians acknowledge, that James was a knave rather than a fool. If James’s reign was still continued, he would take no part against him; and if James was succeeded by his infant son, he augurs and hopes that he will be able to give brightness to foreheads at present “cloudy,” and to smooth the brows which are now contracted; in short, that he will be able to defend the throne of his father, and to give peace to Europe.

We have felt it necessary to go at greater length than we wished into this part of Samuel Wesley’s history, because of the importance which has been attached to it by a most able article on “The Ancestry of the Wesleys,” in the London Quarterly Review for April 1864. Our conviction is, that Samuel Wesley was an intensely loyal man; and that, notwithstanding all the outrageous tyranny of King James, he would never have taken part against him; but when James ignominiouslyignominiously fled, and William and Mary, by the voice of the nation, were proclaimed his successors, Wesley felt that he owed to them the loyalty and obedience that he had paid to James; and, to use his own words, as a proof of his loyalty, he wrote, in answer to an out-of-door speech, the first defence of the government that appeared after William and Mary’s accession; and afterwards published many other pieces, both in prose and verse, having the same end in view.[27]