Dear Sir,

I received your note this morning in Bed, as I have contracted such a Dreadful cold Being wet on Tuesday I am very much grieved i have not been able to comply with the request concerning Mr. C— But I shall certainly keep my eye upon him and Do him all the Good it lays in my power where ever he is he knows my Disposition too well to impute any remissness to my conduct But I cannot do impossibilities as I have Lately had and have now Got so many Distressing cases in hand Beside, I will Be sure to call on you as soon as I can—But am not able to day

I remain Yours. J CHURCH.

32 hercules Buildings

Badly directed to Mr. Oliver, or (Holloway) No. 6, Richmond’s buildings, Dean Street, Soho.

The next document it a letter dated March 7, 1810, from a person at Banbury named Hall, of which the following is a copy:

Honoured Sir—In reply to your letter concerning Mr. C. I can only inform you, there was a report against him of a very scandalous nature; but how far his culpability extends, it is quite out of my power to determine. He was absent from hence when the rumour first spread. The Managers of our Chapel took great pains to enquire into the origin of such reports, and the result was, they sent Mr. C. positive orders, never, on any account, to return to Banbury again; which advice he has hitherto wisely observed. Now, Sir, after giving you the above information, I beg leave to conclude the subject, by referring you to your own comment hereon.

(Signed) S. Hall.

Banbury, March 7, 1810.

Then follows a letter from Wm. Clarke of Ipswich, a young man between 19 and 20 years of age, which contains an account of attempts too horrid to be published. The written confession (frightful indeed it is) of this poor simple young man, whose mind was bewildered by the canting exhortations of Church; and the whole of his statements corroborated by the oral testimony of Mr. Wire, who resides at Colchester, and knows Clarke very well. The circumstances related by Clarke would have furnished ample grounds for a criminal prosecution had he made his complaint immediately after the assault was committed:—but suffering under the influence of ignorance and fear, he kept it a secret too long, and afterwards accepted of a pound note from Church. A case was laid before two eminent barristers, to have their opinion whether such a prosecution could be carried on with any prospect of conviction. Their opinion, in writing, is, that after the long concealment of a Charge, a Jury would pay no attention to his evidence, unless he was confirmed in his story by other evidence.

Extract from the Confession of Wm. Clark, of Ipswich.

Having been called by Providence to Colchester, I went to hear John Church preach in a barn, was invited to Mr. Abbott’s; was prevailed upon to sleep with John Church; I did sleep with him three nights; after being enticed to many imprudencies, I was under the necessity to resist certain attempts, which, if I had complied with, I am fearful must have ruined both soul and body; the crime is too horrid to relate.

William Clark.

Richard Patmore
J. Ellison
C. Wire
H. T. Wire
Witnesses.

P.S.—This took place in March last, 1812.

The peace of this poor lad’s mind however is completely destroyed, so fatally has the event preyed upon him;—so far so as to fill the bosom of his aged father with such a spirit of indignation and revenge, that he actually came up to London with a full determination to be the death of him who had thus ruined the peace of his beloved son, while the mother’s mind was not less distracted than that of the father. In consequence of this, the father entered J. Church’s meeting house, with two loaded pistols, one in each pocket; but under the excess of agitation, he fainted away, and was carried out of the place.

The following will cast some light on the preceding:

Colchester, September 16, 1812.

Sir—Last evening I had an interview with Clark’s father, who wishes him to comply with your wishes. I mentioned to him respecting Church’s conduct, and I find the last night to be the worst. Likewise that he would have committed the act had not Clark prevented him. The particulars I told you when in London, but find them worse than what I described to you. They are not able to be at any expence; but if the Gentlemen wish to prosecute, and to pay Clark’s expences up to London, &c. he will have no objection to come when you please to send. I need only say, I wish you to inform the Gentlemen, and give me a line.

I am, dear, Sir, yours, &c.
C. Wire.

The following is a narrative which Cook has given of his acquaintance with Parson Church; and which was taken down from his own dictation by Mr. E— B—:

In May, 1810, I was in company with Mr. Yardley and another young man by the name of Ponder. I found after that the said Ponder was a drummer in the Guards; I called at a house in the London Road, where I saw Mr. Church the first time in my life: there was at this house about twelve or fourteen altogether, drinking gin, and Mr. Church handed me a glass of the same, which I took; Church behaved very polite to me, and said what a fine fellow I was; he pressed me very much to stop and get tea with them, for he said he would call and see me when I was settled in the house in Vere-street. I stopped a little while, and was about to leave them, when Church said I should not go before I had tea, and flung down a dollar; and a man, by the name of Gaiscoin, took the money and went for the tea and other things, but I would not stay: Church came out of the room with me, and walked with me as far as the turnpike; there he met another gentleman, which I never saw before, and I went on and left him for that time; I think it was six or eight days. I went to live at the Swan, and saw Church again; he came about three o’clock in the afternoon, and Mr. Yardley accosted him, “Parson, what! are you come to see the chapel?” He said “Yes, and to preach too.” Church asked me how I was; I said I was not very well: he asked me why I went away in that shy manner; I told him he was a stranger to me, and I did not like to be intruding on strange people: he said I was shy—he did not know what to make of me; he also pressed me very much to take a walk with him, but I declined it: he said I must go, but I still declined, and did not go with him: he staid some time, and joined the company in the back parlour—persons by the name of Miss Fox and Miss Kitty Cambrick was among them, and the Queen of Bohemia. As Mr. C. was going away, he came to the bar and spoke to me, and said I must take something to drink, which I did, and he paid for it, and left the house for that time, in a few days he called again, in the afternoon, and there was not many people there; he asked if Yardley was at home; I said he was not: he said he was very sorry for it: I asked him what he wanted; he said he came on purpose for me to take a walk with him, but I did not go: he said he would wait until Yardley came in. Church said I should do him a great favour if I would take a walk with him; I would not go—he still pressed me very much to go: I said I would if he would wait till I had cleaned myself: he waited more than two hours for me; I went to sleep because I would not go with him; and in the mean time he waited so long that he was tired; he sent the waiter to call me, which he did, and said the Parson wanted me, and had been waiting two hours for me; I said, let him wait, for I should not come; he returned, and said if I would but speak to him, he should go away happy: I found I could not get rid of him—I went down stairs; he said, well, sir, I hope your nap has done you good; I said, I don’t know, don’t bother me. He said I was very cross to him; I told him there was other men without me; if he wanted to preach, not to preach to me about crossness. He said, well, if that was the case, he was very sorry he had offended me; I told him he had not offended me nor pleased me; but as I was not well, the less any one talked to me the better I liked it; he said, if I was but friends with him, and shake hands with him, he should go away happy. Mr. Yardley said he never see such a fellow as I was, for I had affronted every body that came to the house. I then shook hands with the Parson, for at that time I did not know his name. He shook hands with me, and we had something to drink, and Mr. Church paid for it and went away. I never saw him until I came out of Newgate; I was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Holloway, and telling them there was a Parson somewhere about St. George’s Fields, but his name I did not know. He asked me if I should know him if I saw him, I said I should; by that I went to the Chapel and saw Mr. Church, and then I asked the people what was the Parson’s name; they told me his name was Church. I said he ought to be ashamed of himself to preach there, a *** and rascal, and left the place, and went home in the greatest pains I ever felt in my life, and was resolved to see him, which I did the next day, and give him one of the hand-bills; and the manner he received me, was like a young man would his sweetheart;—I begun my conversation: Well, Sir, I suppose you do not know me? He said he did not. I said my name was Cook, that kept the Swan, in Vere-street. He said he thought so, but was not sure: he said, why did I not call before and shake hands with a-body. I told him I did not know where he lived, nor I did not know his name until I went to the chapel and found him out. He told me not to make it known that he ever came to my house, for he and Rowland Hill had daggers drawn, and that he should be obliged to indite Hill to clear up his character, and for God’s sake do not expose me.—(Here the narrative breaks off.)