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 lose[lose] 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]]