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WILLI.
IkdRKSSOR OF Till
cir.-ipirRs .1
H7
IK
f _i.^*,^.. .4.^*..
THE LIFE OF
WILLIAM MORLEY PUNSHON,
LL.D.
BY
FREDERIC \V. MACUONALD,
HKOFESSOR OF THBOLOliV, HANDSWORIH Cor.l FCE, IIIRMINGHAM ; AUTHOK OF " KLKTCHRK
OK MADKI.KY," HTC.
Cir.inrRS .Vl. to Xi: /•y a. H. RI.YSAR, M.A., rro/tssor o/ Modtm I.av^iages ard
/:n£iisH Ltttraturt, yutoria Cnuerstfy, Cohourg, Otit^irio,
WITH ETCHED PORTRAIT DY .^/AXESSE
HODDER AND STOUGHTON,
27, PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDtCCLXXXVlI.
[AIJ rights rtservcd.\
BX 8495
Mi
4200
y
Primed by Haz«ll, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
TO
THE TOUNOEB MINISTERS OF IICTHODISM
ON BOTH BIDES OF THE ATLANTIC
THIS LIFE OF
WILLIAM MORLEY PUNSHOX
A^^i''
IS DEDICATED
IN BROTHERLY AFFECTION AND ESTEEM.
In seudinj
my regret
delayed.
some of \^
to obviate.
has not be
time for th(
and for som
precisely.
an easy ta
limits, to gi
and work o:
aflfectionate
I made at all
I spective of i
the "perso]
one: the I
freedom anc
memories r
hardly preps
PREFACE.
In sending forth this volume I have to express
my regret that its pubUcation has been so long
delayed. This has arisen from various causes,
some of which, at least, it was not in my power
to obviate. But I venture to hope that the delay
htis not been altogether prejudicial. It has given
time for the acquisition of ampler biographic material,
and for something else which it is more difficult to state
precisely. Under any circumstances it could not be
an easy task to weigh and analyse, to assign the
limits, to give judgment, as it were, upon the qualities
and work of one to whom the writer looks up with
affectionate reverence ; but if the attempt was to bo
made at all, a reasonable interval of time, the per-
spective of a few years, seems necessary. Otherwise,
the " personal equation " is apt to be a disturbing
one : the biographer cannot move with becoming
[freedom and calmness, and the reader, possessed by
memories not yet adjusted and proportioned, is
hardly prepared for the measured judgments of care-
PREFACE. ,
ful biography. I bave felt myself but little qualified
to estimate Dr. Punshou's rauk as a preacher and au
orator. Something of presumption must, I fear,
characterise the attempt on my part ; but to make
the attempt when the sound of his voice had scarcely
died from the air I found impossible.
One other thing must be said. Professor Reynar,
Dr. Punshon's son-in-law, has furnished the part of
this volume that refers to Dr. Punshon's life in
Canada. To those who may observe too much either
of coincidence or of divergence between his part of
the work and mine, I would say that we have written
in complete independence of each other, though I am
responsible for the work as a whole.
Hirth niul Pa
inovea to (
CONTENTS.
■i
CHAPTER I.
1824—18.^7.
IJirth and Parentage — Doncastor -Boyisli Friendships — SchitcU and
Schouhnasters ..........
P\OI
CHAPTER 11.
1837— 1843.
Hl'l.L-SryDF.IiLASlK Aged\Sto\^.
Counting- Hdii.so in Hull — Early Love of Poetry — Death of his
Mother — Conversion — Joins the Methodist Society — The " Men-
ticultural Society" — Preaches his First Sermon — Death of his
FathtT— Leaves Hull for Sunderland — Church Work — Search-
ings of Heart— Joint Authorship, Wild Flmvets, a vohuue of
verse
10
CHAPTER Hi.
1843— 1849.
WOOLWICII-RlCHMOyn—MAHDF.S — WinTF.n.WFS'-rARUSLK. ,
Aijtd Vi to 25.
Resides with Rev. B. Clough, at Woolwich — A Candidate for the
Ministry — Richmond College — A Painful Misunderstanding —
Sent to Marden — Appointed to the Whitehaven Circuit — Re-
moves to Carlisle — Letter to R. Ridgill 43
viii
CONTHXIS.
CHArTEU IV.
1849-1855.
SKW'CAffTLE—Sllh.Frif.l.lK Ayed 26 to 31.
FAOI
Tho ManchoHter Coiifuronco — Ordination — Marriage— Ajipointod to
Nttwcaatlo- "Tho Agitation "- RecoUoctions by Mr. Arthur
and Dr. Parker— Hoinovos to Shuftiuld — Family Lifo and Circtiit
Work— First Appeuranco at Exotur Uall — The Pruphd 0/ Hu,eb
— Growing Popularity 00
CHAPTER V.
1855-1858.
LEEDS. Aijed 31 to 31.
Lcuds, Oxfoid-Placo Circuit— Lecture : Sc'uncv awl Literature in Re-
littidu to ift/iV/Zo/i —Missionary Anniversary — Regins a Journal —
Anxiutifb and Labours— Lecture : John linniion — His Method,
Style, Delivery — Views on Proposed Revision of the English
Rible
CHAPTER VL
1858-1859.
l.OSDOS, UA rSWA TER. Agtd ;i 1 to ;15.
App.iinted to the Hinde Street Circuit — Work at Bayswater — ^Ir.
Arthur's Recollections — Memories of Mr. Punshon and his Col-
leagues at Hinde Street, by " i/tec meminiase jnvat" — Death of
his wife — Lecture : The Ihtgmnota — Raises i;l,0()0 for Spital-
tields Chapel^The Conference at IVIanchester : Debate on the
Rayswater Case — Devotional Meeting at the Free Trade Hall . 128
CHAPTER VIL
1859— 1861.
/, OXDOX, BA ys \VA TEIi. Aijtd ^h to 37.
Journal — Letter to Mr. Ridgill — Ill-health and Depression — Lecture:
Daniel in llahylon — Last Sermon sit Rayswater — Course of Ser-
mons on " The Prodigal Sou " — Pastoral Sympathy . . .154
COXTEXTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
1861 — 1864. .
Lo.ynox, ifiuxorox. .1.7 -./ a? to 40.
Lecture: ^/acdu/uj/— Channel iHliinds Cornwall Conference — Pro-
posal to raise £10,0(H) for Chapels in Wutering-Places— Opening
of Chapel in Paris — Letters to his Little Daughter — Lecture :
Wi'nleij and hin Tiinea — Jubilee of Missionary Society — Letters
to Mr. Hirst
17M
CHAPTER IX.
1864—1866.
CUrWS. A.I. Ayeil l\.
Voyage to New York — Church Building in America — First Impres-
sions of Canada— General Conference of Methodist Episcopal
Church, Chicago — Conference Excursion— Camp Meetings . . 292
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XII.
1868— 1870.
CANADA. AgedAitoifu
PAOI
The Canadian Conference, 18C8 — Fraternal Greetings from Synod of
Presbyterian Church — Letters to Frientla at Home — Marriage —
Christmas — Friendships — Charities— Church Building— Metho-
dist Union — Missions- Education— Lecturing —American Opinion 310
CHAPTER XIIL
1870— 1871.
CANADA. Affed46toi7.
Death of Mrs. Punshon — Journal — Letters — Travels — Journey to
the Far West — Salt Lake City — Mormonism — California — Van-
couver Island — Yo Semite Valley ...... 341
CHAPTSR XIV,
1871 — 1872.
CANADA— ENGLAND— CANADA. Afjed 47 to -18.
Visit to England — Addresses the Conference at Manchester— Con-
tinued Labours in Canada — Physical Depression — Christmas —
A Grandfather — Dedication of the Metropolitan Church —
General Conference of the Methodist I^iscopal Church, 1872 —
Degree of LL.D .'iCd
CHAPTER XV.
1872—1873,
CANADA— ENGLAND. AgedA^toA^.
Journey to tlie North- West — Shipwreck — Visit to Missions in Mani-
toba-Longfellow — Japan Mission— New Orleans and the South
— Farewell to Canada . . . 37r> I
COXTEXTS. xi
CHAPTER XVI.
1873-1875.
LOXDOX, KK.\SI.\(;T0X. Aged 19 to bl.
Once more in England — Death of liis Daughter — Appointed to Ken-
sington — Uphill Work — Visits Rome and Na})le8 — Work in Cir-
cuit and District — President of the Conference, 1874 — Labours
of the Year — Letters and Journal — Conference of 1875 — Ordi-
nation Charge — Appointed Missionary Secretary — At the Mission
House 390
CHAPTER XVIL
1875-1877.
LOXDO.W, MISS/OX //Oi'S/-:. A;/e. I.
hearing him, when eight years old, repeat, standing
on a chair, Byron's lines beginning ' The Assyrian
came down like a wolf on the fold.' This he did
in a vigorous and spirited stylo which I havo
remembered ever since." Of his boyish collection
of books, a few volumes remained with him throuf,'li
life. They include a Count}) Album, with 400
Tojwgraphical Hierofjlyphics, evidently much prized,
with the inscription " W. M. P., Doncaster, 1830,
No. 1." Piety is represented by Bo<)atzhfs Treasury^
a gift from his father, and Abbott's Young Christian,
from Mr. Roscoe, his schoolmaster; and poetry by I
an edition of Milton, in two small volumes, and a
copy of Poj^e's Homefs Iliad, that had previously!
belonged to his mother.
Between him and his mother there was the ten-
derest affection, and that intimate companionship i
and perfect understanding which seem to be reserved
for mothers and their only sons. As a little child
he was at her side, not seeking protection, but
ready to afford it. Who should be master of the
house and defender of the hearth, next to his father,
but himself ? His mother never forgot how one day
when his father was from home, he calmly seatedj
himself at the head of the table, and looking at her,
said, "My dear, what shall I have the pleasure of|
helping you to ? "
From the Doncaster Grammar School he wasl
removed in 1835, being then eleven years old, to al
boarding school at Tadcaster, kept by Messrs. Stonerj
and Elsworth. The earliest of his letters that basl
been preserved belongs to this period. It is addressedl
to his Uncle Clough the missionary, at Colombol
iv^
m-]
LETTKR TO HIS UNCLE.
It
I'lie ponnianship is above reproach or criticism, a
iiiirvt'l of delicacy and beauty, giving promise of
the free and elegant handwriting for which ho was
ifterwards distinguisl.'ed. The letter itself is an
dmirable specimen of the formal epistle which, once
)r twice in a half-year, used to minister to the i)ride
)oth of schoolmaster and parent in the days when
fetter-writing was a recognised branch of polite
nlucatiou. Here are none of the genial crudities
)f style and spelling that characterise the schoolboy
letter when it is spontaneous and unrevised ; but,
instead, faultless writing, mature sentiments, and
jenteuces constructed after tlie best traditions of
the Johnsonian school. How many copies were
written and corrected before it took its final shape
;au only be guessed at, but in such expressions as
" the healthy town of Tadcaster," *' the useful parts
)f the mathematics," and "the Annual Conference
liow assembled," though the hand is that of William
[Morley Punshon, aged twelve years, the voice is
jurely that of one or other of those respected gentle-
men, Messrs. Stoner and Elsworth : —
" ViCARAtiE House Acadkmy, Tadcastku.
"AtKjnstiUli, IH.%.
'• My vkhy dear Uncle,
" Your letter to my cousin reached us wliile we were on a visit
Ito my grandfather at Hull. My mother then ex[)rcssed a wish for nie to
Iwritc to you. In compliance with her desire, and with great pleasure
land satisfaction to myself, I now embrace the earliest opportunity of
■addressing you.
" You will perceive by this letter that I am now at school, and will,
Itliercfore, be desirous of knowing how I am proceeding with my educa-
Ition. Tlie Academy in which I have now been a pupil more than a year
lis pleasantly situated in the healthy town of Tadcaster, and conducted
jby Messrs. Stoner and Elsworth (Mr. Stoner is brother, and Mr. Elsworth
brother-in-law, to the late Rev. D. Stoner), under whoso superintendence
12
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. l.«837.]
I am endeavouring to acquire a knowledge of the Latin, Groek, and]
French languagcH.
" I am iilso studying tlie useful parts of the mathematics, .and the j
general routine of an English education, such as the English grammar,
history, geography with the use of the globes and the construction of i
maps, etc. ; in all of which branches I flatter myself that I am making |
some humble progress. As to my writing, you will, of course, be able to j
judge from this letter, which I present to you as a specimen.
" As to information, I am afraid I shall not be able to communicate j
much. The first thing which strikes my attention, and which will, I
have no doubt, be interesting to you, is the Annual Conference now
assembled. Dr. Bunting has been chosen President, and Mr. Newton
Secretary, by very great majorities. This, of course, shows the respect
and confidence which the Conference still retain for those blessed meu,
notwithstanding the vain attempts made by a certain party to weaken I
and, if possible, to destroy that c(»nfideuce. Medals have been struck to
coaimemorate the first Conference in the town of Birmingham, and goMJ
ones were presented at a public breakfast to the President and Secretary,
and silver ones to the American and Irish representatives.
The appointment for Doncaster will, I suppose, l)e as last year, viz,, 1
Messrs. R. Pilter, J. Bromley of notoriety, and John Callaway, late a ]
Missionary in Ceylon, with whom I daresay you are acquainted.
" I am happy to say, through the mercy of Cod, my dear father, j
mother, and cousin, as well as myself, are enjoying a very good degree of
health, of which blessing I hope you and my dear aunt and cousins are in
the full possession.
" I remain, dear uncle,
" Your affectionate nephew,
" Wll.MAM MORLEY PUNSHON."
Rev. Benjamin Clougji, Wesleyan Minister,
Colombo, Island of Ceylon.
From Tadcaster he was removed to the school of |
Mr. Thomas Eoscoe, at Heanor, in Derbyshire.
Mr. Koscoe was a schoolmaster of high local repute.
He has been described as " a competent, good-natured,
resolute teacher, with a somewhat commanding pre-
sence, and the easy manners of a country squire or|
doctor, rather than the stiffness of a pedagogut."
Here also he remained but for a short time. At the
end of the year 1837 his school life terminated, ami j
I83r0
SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTERS.
J3
ilmost immediately afterwards he entered the oflSce
)f his grandfather Morley, whose business as a timber
lerchant had been removed from Doncaster to Hull.
[e consequently left home. His child-iife was over
-pathetically early, as he was soon to realize.
On the whole, it cannot be said that he owed much
to bis schools and schoolmasters. This is not to
juggest inefficiency on their part ; and, indeed, the
jlerkly qualifications with which he entered Messrs.
VTorley & Sons' counting-house prove the contrary,
30 far, at least, as the routine of an English education
|s concerned, and as that term was understood fifty
^ears ago. His teachers did their duty by him, but
the circumstances were against any powerful and last-
ng impressions being received in the f depression and ill-health, and would return upon
lim again and again even in busiest, brightest days.
^hile mourning for his mother, he seems to have
lourned over himself, feeling the pathos and pitiful-
less of his orphanhood. It was as though, while
Standing by her grave, he saw himself, an affection-
ite, impulsive, imaginative boy, craving love and
leading counsel, going his way henceforth alone,
imid innumerable possibilities of evil and overthrow.
[is grief returned upon himself in pity and fore-
)oding. He had read Cowper ; he was familiar with
lis poem, On the Beceipt of My Mother^s Picture, and
took to himself in deep despondency the lines : —
" My mother I when I learned that thou wast dead,
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ?
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
Wretch even then, hfe's journey just begun ? "
ls soon as he reached home, he wrote a hasty note
to Eichard Ridgill : —
" We are all buried in profound grief at our house. You ca 1 sym-
pathise with me because you have been in the same circumstances as
myself. I feel that I could say with Cain, ' My punishment is greater
|than I can bear.' "
Mrs. Punshon was buried under the shadow of the
)Id church, near the entrance to the south transept,
leuceforth, it was sacred ground to her son. Thirty
f^ears after, his wife by his side, he knelt and kissed
so
TV. MORLEY FUNS HON.
his mother's gravestone, and spoke with emotion o:|
the great loss her death had been to him.
He returned to Hull almost immediately after thtf
funeral, and in a few days wrote to Ridgill, enclosing
some lines expressive of his grief. They need not btl
given here. Like most productions at such an early}
age, even m
the
case
of
persons possessmg rea
poetic gifts, they are conventional, full of set phrasei]
and the echoes of other verse. He adds : —
" The above cannot be called poetry, but was written with a view J
divert my thoughts from the contemplation of one subject ; for wheJ
I am alone, and fall into an abstracted vein of thought, I am almojJ
driven to madness. ... I need your sympathy and commiseratiotl
I have heard your father is worse. I am very sorry to hear it. .
want more courage than I possess to comfort my poor father."
A few weeks later Ridgill's father died, and thf|
two boys felt themselves still more closely drawn
together. William writes : —
Letter to R. Ridgill.
"Hull, July 2?,rd, 1838.
" I am not at all the right person to undertake the office of a comforteJ
but . . . must attempt it. An alleviating circumstance in your bereavfj
ment was this, that it was long expected. . . . Remember you will stil
be the support of your sister. You must not forget that. ... I came tl
Doncaster on the Tuesday, and Saturday was the day of intermenJ
During that time I only saw her thrice. . . . There was such a heavenli
smile on her countenance, it seemed as if a ray of glory had enveloped he]
form ere life's embers had departed. When I reviewed the past ... tin
burden seemed insupportable, and a dark and dismal prospect of a stiil
more dark and cheerless future burst upon my unwilling view with scara
a ray of light to dissipate the clouds of woe. I felt that I had lost hsl
that I should never hear the music of her voice again . . . that tls
guiding-star round which the orbit of my destiny revolved, was for evJ
eclipsed. . . . When I mused upon these things my spirit groaned \v\M
me and I was ready to sink under the weight, and to consign my exisil
ence to despair. From this state of darkness I was partially, if m
wholly, roused by the voice of friendship pouring its sympathetic accentj
into my afflicted soul. Yes. and though dark thoughts sometimes obtruJJ
38.]
CONVERSION.
ai
Lniselves, I possess more of serenity than I did. Let me entreat you to be
Imforted. ... I roused myself at your solicitation ; therefore, if you have
Ly love for me . . . bear it patiently, if not with the endurance of a stoic
. with the resignation of a philosopher, and the understandiug of a man.''
This letter reveals, or perhaps suggests what is
lown from other sources, the conflict through
^hich he was now passing. It is noticeable in the
)Ovo letter that allusions to religion are avoided,
ud there is something like an affectation of a
|liilosophic strain. Considering thb Christian in-
jueuces to which he had always shown himself
usceptible, and his ready, almost instinctive, use
If religious language, this seems to require ex-
ilauation. The truth is, that he avoided the subject,
lot from indifference or dislike, but from the painful
^iteusity with which it was occupying his thoughts.
[e was touched and troubled to the bottom of his
^eart. He had felt the foundations of all things
larthly give way. Things spiritual and eternal
iloue seemed real. He longed for faith in Christ,
\xA for peace with God, The old, old question,
^'What must I do to be saved?" had awakened
r'itliin his soul, and was crying for answer.
Ou the 3rd October, 1838, he writes to his father : —
" oil ! my dearest father, ever since the death of my mother I have
been under deep and strong convictions of sin. Peace of mind I cannot
Iblain. Loud and frequent have been my prayers to Almighty God for
[icrcy. But the heavens are as brass unto me. ... I sometimes think
Ihere must be some hidden sin which I have not yet given up. ' Oh
Jhat I knew my sins forgiven ! ' is my oft-repeated cry. I have no
happiness ; though I may appear cheerful, yet inwardly I am all discontent
bid grief. Pray for me, my dearest father, that I may speedily receive
Ihe blessing I require."
To this his father replied : —
"My EVER DEAREST AND BELOVED WiLLiAM,— Remember the precious
vord of promise. ' I love them that love Me, and those that seek Me early
aa
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
shall fln>l Mo.' The Lord Whom you seek will be found of you when yo
HOiirch for Him with your whole heart. My dour Ud, I npread ycii,-^
letter before the Lord upon my knees, and endeavoured to plead Ha;
word and promises on your behalf, and I have faith . . . that Ho will mosl
assuredly sot your soul at liberty, and speak peace to your troubled niinil
He gave His blessed Son Jesus to die for you. Take oncouragement, Ei
that shall come will come, and not tarry."
The early influences of home and Christian traini
ing, childish convictions of sin, and tender thoughtij
of God that had seemed to come and go, had reallj|
passed into his soul, and were now awakened an:
renewed. His mother's death, his father's appeakj
wrought upon a heart whose preparation for receiviUj"
Christ was further advanced than he was awarel
He was, indeed, not far from the kingdom of God]
The ministry of the Kev. S. Komilly Hall, theil
stationed in Hull, a probationer in his third year]
was of much service. Mr. Hall was a faithful audi
fearless preacher and pastor. Clear in his views,
energetic, practical, not to be satisfied with generali-i
ties and uncertainties, ever pressing his youngj
friend to trust in Christ for salvation, — his was justl
the guidance needed. Perhaps the total dissimij
larity of temperament was an element of power toj
the young minister in counselling the sorrowful]
tender-hearted lad. After much spiritual conflictl
the way of salvation was revealed to him. He foundj
rest to his soul. He wrote to his aunt : —
" It was on the 2'Jth of November. I had previously been in grea]
distress of mind, when, as I was walking on the dock side, I was met byl
the Rev. S. R. Hall, who urged upon me the necessity of immediatsi
belief. Then and there I was enabled to lay hold on my Saviour, arnij
peace immediately sprang up in my heart."
This 29th of November, 1838, he being thenl
fourteen years and a half old, he always regarded!
b9-l
CONVERSION.
n
the (lay of liiy spiritual birth. His whole after-
fe, inward and outward, was but the growth, the
tifolding, the leading forth into ten thousand de-
ilopnieuts, of what he then received. Of all the
iried influences, mental, moral, and social, by which
|e was afterwards affected, there was none that
mstituted a fresh beginning, or removed from its
)mmanding position in his history the spiritual
^ent then consummated. His conversion as a boy
the key to his character and work as a man.
He lost no time in joining the Methodist Society,
[•here is an entry in the minute-book of the George-
lard Leaders' Meeting which shows that, after the
jfiual probation, he was proposed, with nine others,
)r admission into the Society at a Leaders' Meeting
|eld on the 23rd May, 1839.
From the first his spiritual life responded readily
the institutions and ministries of Methodism.
[e was its child, not only by descent and the force
|f circumstances, but by a real interior kinship. It
let his wants, it at once awakened and satisfied his
lesires. He was in sympathy with its aims and
lethods. He understood with quick insight what
meant by its class-meetings and lovefeasts. He
hrew himself into its round of religious activity,
[e became a teacher, and, after a while, the secre-
uy of a Sunday-school. He attended prayer-
leetings, assisted in conducting them, and in May
[840 liis name appears upon the Prayer-Leaders'
^lan as that of a recognised labourer in this depart-
lent of Christian work. Meantime, his desire for
Christian fellowship was not exhausted by attend-
ice at the class-meeting. In addition to meeting
M
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. I!^|831']
in the class of Mr. John Lowther, he was one 01
a band of three youtlis who met in a vestry ol
Waltliam Street Chapel at seven o'clock on Sundai
mornings, for prayer and mutual help and couuseli
There were no serious distractions from without
or questionings from within. Religion was practicaij
and experimental, undisturbed by influences critical
or speculative. It was a time of happy, liealthTJ
growth ; and while his life as a Christian was being
deepened, the spirit of Methodism gave direction anil
character to its growth. When the time for hisl
entering the ministry should arrive, the extent t(i
which Methodist doctrine, discipline, and traditioDil
had passed into his life and become a part of himself|
would be apparent.
Soon after going to reside in Hull, he made]
the acquaintance of a youth named John Lytli.
subsequently the Rev. Dr. Lyth. They becamtj
fast friends, and companions in religious life aDcl
mental cultivation. With the assistance of one oil
two others they formed a society for mutual improve]
ment, to which they gave the name of The Menti-
cultural Society. It consisted of some eight or tetj
members, and two corresponding members, of whoEJ
Richard Ridgill was one. It is to be noted thai
every one of these subsequently entered the ministry]
A discussion every week and a lecture once a monti
was the society's rule, and at these meetings MorM
Punshon made his first attempts at debating ancj
lecturing.
LeTTEK to R. RiDGIl.L.
"Hull, Dfcemher 17M, 1839.
" . . . . Figure to yourself our worshipful assemblage, straining theii
eyes out of their sockets for lack of knowledge. In the chair of state!
Ircsitloiit of
LiiilN ii|)(>n t
[igiiity of lii
rith eye uj)t
bine with the
u recumhe
rere a phren
Attitude, is en
imc, or the
To tlies
mcceed
to his fri(
md has
'ossibly ]
should nu
thereby b
le had
jenerous,
,^ould be
)ecomes i
rei'se.
To anot
)f Sunder
letters re^
md some
j^uickly ki:
sentences,
kvhich plr
luick and
)f the si]
language
dways m?
^ibsence o:
was now
rate ; pros
Mo]
THE MRNTTCULTURAL SOCIETY.
h, 1839.
ling tliesj
of statel
IresiiJont of tho awful prcKeiice, hUh ProfcHHor Lytb, liis liiiir on end ' liko
luills upon tho fretful porcupiiie,' . . . \m Imnd niiHcd to keep up tho
li^^uity of liix prtisideiitiiil otfico. OppoHito him your humhlo Herviiut,
rith eyo uj)turne(l. listening with ItroiithluHs interest, my foot keeping
tme with tho fine-turned periodH. To tho left of the president, F. Smith,
a recumbent posture, is giizing on the lecturer's countenance aa if he
rere a phrenological student ; while brother Locking, in an oratorical
Ittitude, is enlightening ua on the importance of a right improvement of
lime, or the ciiaracter of Artaxerxes Lonijimanus."
To these humours coucerniug " the Menticultural "
mcceed certain sentiineiitalities whicli are confided
\o his friend. He longs to be in Doncaster again,
ind has a vision of home liappiness once more.
'ossibly his father may marry again. Suppose he
jhouhl marry some lady with a daughter, wlio would
thereby become his sister, and so aiford him a joy
le had never known. Ah ! to have a sister,
jenerous, noble, just, romantic ! What bliss that
rould be ! And, moved by sucli a vision, prose
)ecomes inadequate, and he must needs break into
^erse.
To another correspondent, his cousin. Miss Panton,
)f Sunderland, he wrote frequently and freely. His
fetters reveal him very distinctly, — an affectionate
md somewhat romantic youth, whose happiness,
piickly kindled, and overflowing in even too copious
sentences, was broken by intervals of depression to
which physical languor often ministered. Mentally
[uick and versatile, susceptible to every suggestion
)f the sublime or the beautiful, with a power of
language which in its exuberance he could not
[always manage, there is perhaps but one thing, the
^d)sence of which at this time is to be regretted. He
was now thinking, talking, and writing at a great
rate ; prose and verse, letters, essays, and speeches,
36
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap, n,
were poured forth in abundance ; but of steady and!
systematic reading, such as would supply the dis-
cipline, and furnish the material for all this mental
activity, there are not the traces that could be
wished. What has been already said of the dis-
advantages and compensations of his educational]
course, applies to this period of his life as well as to|
his school days.
Writing March 31st, 1840, he describes his!
pleasure in hearing Mr. W. Dawson preach from
the words, "Will ye also be His disciples?" and]
repeats for his cousin's benefit some of the illus-
trations used. Dr. Beaumont was to preach that!
evening, and he declares it too bad that James
x^arsons was to preach at the Independent chapel
at the same time, and only hoped it was notj
done intentionally. He then refers to the answers
his cousin had sent to certain riddles; and soou|
after launches into an eloquent declamation on the
time-honoured virtue of perseverance, in which the|
Greeks of Marathon, Joan of Arc, Masaniello, Crom-
well, and Napoleon sweep before us as in a whirl-
wind. After this flight, which, with all its boyish]
exaggeration, reveals true oratoric instinct, he drops j
smilingly to earth again, saying, " Is not this now
a very pleasing digression, which has helped to fill]
up my letter? I could have gone on for a long
time, br') must not encroach too much on good
nature." The " M. S." (Menticultural Society) was|
doing well. They had had a biblical night ; F.
Smith taking a Greek Bible, W. M. P. Latin, J.
liyth Hebrew, E. Locking German, in order to
mark variations in the text.
840.]
LETTERS TO HIS COUSIN.
«7
On the 29th May, 1840, he again writes to his
joiisin. He acknowledges a certain sense of ex-
lilaration at the absence of one of Jiis " governors,"
in uncle much addicted to the use of tobacco. His
dfe having " sweetly, and he must say justifiably,
)ublished a bill of pains and penalties against the
)ractice of smoking " anywhere on the premises over
diicli she had control, the uncle inflicted his pre-
sence upon the juniors at times when they much
lesired to be without it. In the absence of tJiis said
^incle they had denounced this procedure with much
eloquence, finding relief in so doing, and rapturously
ipplauding their own utterances. He hints that the
)uly case in which smoking might be tolerated would
)e as a cure for disappointed aifections. He reminds
lis cousin that it is Royal Oak Day, and that on that
lay sixteen years ago he had entered the world,
f'the bells of St. George's, Doncaster, ringing a
lerrypeal on the birth of William Morley Punshim."
Then follows a more serious strain ; his life has
)een full of the lovingkindness and tender mercies
)f the Lord. He regrets his inherent indolence, and
lis love of the romantic : —
" I feel a native reluctance to enter upon the perusal of any work that
lias been represented to me as profound. The light, gliding eloquence of
Bromley is more pleasing to my ears than the solid reasonings of a
)ixon. But I am wandering. I do feel thankful to (iod for all His
lercies, but especially that it has pleased Him to make me a partaker of
Ihe joys of religion. Often in our private band I feel my soul drawn out
|n gratitude to God that Ho has graciously visited me-; for what am I tiiat
lu should have mercy upon me t . . . What my future destiny may be is
tnown only to God. I have had serious thoughts u{)on this subject. It
lias doinetimes entered my r^ind that my destination is the ministry.
[Silence ! for you are the first to whom I have mentioned it.) I have at
pimes felt a desire strong and ardent to save souls. At other times my
aotives have been somewhat earthly, and I have checked the desire
a8
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. II. 1^8840.]
altogether, lest I should be seeking rather the applause of men than the I
honour which cometh from God. Be that as it may, I am thankful that \
I am, in my humble way, working for God."
. The Missionary Anniversary had been held in Hull,
The Rev. Robert Wood, of Huddersfield, preached |
in the morning '* a most excellent sermon ; " the
Rev. J. H. Beech, of Snaith, in the afternoon ; the
Rev. B. Clough (his uncle) in the evening. Onl
Monday morning was the meeting; collection .£21,
On Monday evening the Rev. James Everett
preached from " He that converteth a sinner," etc,
*' "What a sermon ! It almost carried the people]
away." On Tuesday evening he heard the Rev,
Samuel Waddy, of Sheffield, from " What shall itl
profit a man," etc., — " a very learned, forcible, and!
eloquent discourse." On Wednesday morning hel
was at the breakfast meeting, and heard addresses!
from Messrs. Reece, Everett, Clough, Waddy, and
Duncan. In the evening another meeting was held.j
" and such a meeting, Waltham Street Chapel filled almost to overflowing
I was on the platform, and had a splendid view. The first speaker wa-|
the Rev. R. Reece, who was in the chair ; then the Rev. R. Wood, who>t
speech I did not hear ; then the Rev. J. Everett. In speaking of thtj
length of time the Missionary Reports would live compared with othe!J
reports, he said, ' They will live after yours are converted into windint!|
sheets for pilchards and red herrings ! ' Dr. Alder was the next speakerl
and gave us some statistical accounts of Missions in different parts of tlxl
world. The Rev. S. D. Waddy gave a very forcible and impresisivtr
speech, after which the collection was made. And what do you thinki
was the collection ? One hundred and seventy-six pounds eleven shilling
and sixpence. Bravo ! "
The " M. S." still prospered. A new member haal
just been elected, after giving a specimen of liisl
talents. ' The list now consisted of Bishop Lyth.
Professor Punshon, Doctor Locking, Brother Smith,
Ivom ' Behold
840.]
HIS FIRST SERMON.
ag
11(1 friend Elliott. The Professor gave a lecture
)n " The present state of Great Britain with
tefereuce to secular matters," '
lu addition to lectures and debates, the members
)f the '• Menticultural " undertook the publication of
periodical to be entitled The Hull Quarterly Maga-
tiiie. It will readily be believed that it did not
;xtend beyond a few numbers. They also encou-
kaged one another in writing poetry, and cherished
|;lie design, realized a year or two later, of publishing
volume of their joint contributions.
It was on his sixteenth birthday that he wrote to
(lis cousin, with injunctions to secrecy, that it some-
times entered his mind that his destination was the
linistry. His convictions on this subject increased
in strength and definiteness, and were probably
fostered by friends who discerned his gifts, and the
lirection that his thoughts were taking. His friend
folm Lyth had become a local preacher, and that
fact, by reason of their close intimacy, helped to
Keep the subject before his mind. Another letter to
pis cousin narrates the circumstances under which
16 preached his first sermon : —
" Hi'M., August olh, 1840.
" On Suuday last at seven a.m. I went to our band, and we had a very
profitable time. At ten o'clock I went to see them at the school, and
ibout half-past ten J. Lyth came in, and he and I started for Ellcrby,
diere he had to preach twice. Having only one sermon ready, the other
vas to be an extemporaneous effusion. We arrived ; the congregation in
i\w afternoon was twenty-four souls, and he preached his only sermon,
lEvom ' Behold the Lamb of God,' etc. In the evening wc did not know
vhat to do, so it was agreed that we should each deliver an address, and
[then hold a prayer-meeting. After having implored the presence and
blissing of the Holy Spirit, we both mounted tbe pulpit. It had been
(irranged that I should speak for ten minutes, and then he should finish.
gave out, ' Come, sinners, to the gospel fejist,' then prayed, then road
30
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. Ill
the leKHon — a I'^ng chapter — then gave out, ' The great archangel's trump!
shall sound,' and then announced my text, ' And as Paul reasoned off
righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled,' etcl
I got into the subject, and, with the help of God, spoke for between haH|
and three-quarters of an hour, and left him nothing to do bi' t conclude," |
On the evening of Sunday, August 2nd, 1840J
being just sixteen years and two months old,|
William Morley Punshon preached his first sermonJ
It was one of those experiments which must be|
judged by its results. The freest of religious comf
munities would scarcely approve of an order ol
boy-preachers, yet the very stiffest of such would doj
well to make it possible for the youth who has
" . . . some naked thoughts that rove about,
And loudly knock to have their passage out,"
to exhort or " prophesy " somewhere within itsl
borders. That young Punshon was being drawj
from above as well as urged from within, cannot bej
doubted. After that first boyish sermon to the vilj
lage people at EUerby, others beside himself believedj
that he was called of God to preach the gospel.
But there was discipline in store for him. li
would have been a positive calamity had he glide!
too smoothly into the new life which this firsij
attempt disclosed. It is not to be wondered atl
that temptation and conflict followed this perhap|
too easy beginning. Bodily sufi'ering, severe searclil
ings of heart, and another sore bereavemeut,
came to protect him from being '* exalted abovej
measure."
He writes to his cousin of " dark and gloomj
thoughts, and of a slavish, tormenting fear of death,'
He was tempted to think that Christ had notj
S40.]
Iccepted
Resetting
lelf with
roodness
bd dreac
Then,
lendeucy
bf other
lossed an
(stry: '
*rhen can
^lovenly i
)f using ' '
lowery st,
10 more-
laking a
In Augi
lllerby, 1;
rom the
^anton, a
few mo
)osed of h
rus broke
^ng some
to Sunder
tho 9th ol
William
lis loss V
this time
faith and
ifter the li
)f liis he£
Icomfort i]
B40.]
DEATH OF HIS FATHER.
3»
Iccepted.liim. He was painfully conscious of the
besetting sin of vanity, and bitterly upbraided him-
lelf with desira for display. His very desires after
roodness were haunted by mistrust of his sincerity
|ind di-ead of unworthy motives.
Then, in endeavouring to check and mortify the
[endeucy to vanity, he found himself upon the shoals
)f other perils, real or imaginary, and was greatly
iossed and troubled. He became involved in casu-
istry : "Is this and that sinful in itself, or only
.'hen carried to excess ? " He has thoughts of being
^lovenly in dress, of absenting himself from chapel,
)f using "plain, nay vulgar language instead of that
lowery style which was natural to him, to scribble
10 more — all in order to avoid opportunities of
laking a display."
In August 1840, a week or two after preaching at
lllerby, he left Hull for Sunderland, and passed
from the office of the Messrs. Morley to that of Mr.
^anton, an uncle by marriage on his father's side.
few months later his father died. He had dis-
)Osed of his business early in the year. His health
ras broken, and his spirits depressed. After spend-
fng some time with his relatives in Hull, he went
to Sunderland, his native place, where he died on
tho 9th of December, 1840.
William's orphanhood was now complete. He felt
lis loss very deeply, but his letters written about
this time show a remarkable elevation of religious
faith and feeling. To his cousin he writes " that
ifter the first fit of anguish the predominant feelings
)f his heart were gi'atitude and praise. He takes
jcomfort in thinking of his father and mother as,
3»
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. 11,1
he "would fain believe, appointed by God to watcJ
over him, and ' bear him up in their hands, lest \\
should dash his foot against a stone.' "
During the first year and a half of his residence iii|
Sunderland it does not appear that he attempted t(|
preach, ^lis early effort at Ellerby remained
solitary ef'.ort, though by no means forgotten, ol
unrelated to what followed. But he threw himself
eagerly into other kinds of Christian work, morti
suited perhano '!;o his age, and better fitted to preparfl
him for Vie mivJre. He took an active part in tliel
Sunday-school * fjinncted with the old Ironworksj
Chap.^1. He becau.'^ member of a Prayer-Leaders I
Band nndei Lh • suv.: •••.erdence of Mr. Anthony!
Newton, and assistei] lu :>jiding prayer-meetings inl
some of the most dismal parts of the town, to which,!
on dark winter nights, the workers had literally tol
grope their way. He also established a " Mentij
cultural Society " diff'ering in some respects fromtliatj
with which he was connected at Hull. The devol
tional element entered more directly into its organij
sation. On alternate Monday evenings the meetings!
were devoted to prayer and Christian communioD.I
At least one member of that little society survives]
an early and a lifelong friend of Morley Punshoi],]
Mr. T. C. Squance, who says : —
" The papers which he read from time to time led those who hearil
them to form the highest expectations as to his future ; while hi>l
spiritual experience indicated the strength of his desire to consecrate tej
powers to the highest ends.''
The following extracts from his correspondeucej
will show something of the occupations, the conflicts,!
and the progress of this period of his life : —
M-]
LIFE AT SUNDERLAND.
II
fa'j21nt, 1841. "I have been taking myself to task concerning the
snse depression of my spirits, and puzzling myself to discover its pro-
ble cause. I think it is constitutional, and may be classed with nervous
eases. While it holds mo under its dominion it is hard indeed to bear.
lie heart knoweth its own bitterness,' and cannot explain it if it would.
F. has come to lodge with us, and, in consequence, I again sleep in
bed I formerly occupied. I did not get much rest the first night. My
jghts were wandering to the past, and recalling my father's death. I
not forget to contemplate the heaven to which he has ascended, and
en thinking of the sighings of his spirit while on earth, I have fancied
collected together, and forming an atmosphere surrounding me his
Id."
funp \at, 1841. "I have just returned from the Sunday-school Anni-
sary Meeting. . . . R. Wharton astonished me beyond measure, and
only electrilied but melted me to tears several times during his speech,
^h a fervent breathing spirit of piety, such occasional flashes of real
such amazing eloquence ! Oh ! how I felt myself called upon to
^eased exertion in the cause of Christ, especially when Wharton,
his hands raised to heaven, expressed the overflowings of a heart
charged with gratitude.''
tanuary &th, 1842. " I never felt until Sabbath last the immense
port of words that I have repeated over and over again, 'a living
pfice.' What a picture does this give of a state of entire consecration
and yet even to this state God can bring me. Lord, hasten the time.
We had indeed a delightful time at the Ironworks. It was a season
to be remembered. In the prayer-meeting that followed the service
the presence of God. . . . When breathing with fervency of spirit.
|ike my heart, but make it new,' I felt as it were the earnest within me
God would show me greater things than these.
I Did you ever feel, in the midst of a hallowed service, as it were a
leping, a breath, which seemed to waft itself over the whole congrega-
f, so that you could almost see its movement and hear its sound ; and
re has followed a sweet and holy stillness, ' the speechless awe that
Es not move ? ' There was such a feeling in the school on Sunday
ping. I felt its hallowing influence, and praised God."
To Mr. J. Lyth.
"March I8th, 1842.
JMy thoughts on the subject of the ministry have at length, I think,
le to a crisis ; and I feel it to be my duty to call binners to Christ. I
Ik, if all be well, I shall apply for a ' note ' after our mis-sionary ser-
lis on the 3rd of April. I think of Heb. ii. 2 — 4, ' How shall we escape
re neglect so great salvation,' etc.. and this is my outline : —
34
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. II^H42.]
" Introduction : The design of the Epistle to the Hebrews.
" 1. Nature and greatness of gospel salvation.
" 2. Clearness of evidence on which it rests.
" 3. Fearful consequences of neglecting it ; and application, pressing ttl
great question, ' How shall we escape ? '
" You must pray for me that I may have help from on high to enable a-,?i
to keep all improper motives in the background.
" I have at last established a Menticultural Society in Sunderland, whic^
consists at present of five members. They are C. H. Potts (p), Williai
Perks (i"), Wra. Morley Punshon, R. R. Fitzgerald, and Thos. C. Squanal
Those marked p are preachers, and the othera are likely to be, please Gocj
I commenced with my lecture on the ' Evidences of Christianity.' Pota
delivered a sermon on ' It is appointed unto men once to die ; ' Fitzgerall
on the Fall of Man, and on Monday night Squance lectures on ' Mission.'!
My next is ' Religion and its Tributaries,' proving the accordance cJ
religion and science. On April 3rd I hope (D.V.) to hear Dr. Beaumonj
in the morning, and George Steward at night — the two most splendij
preachers in the Connexion."
The Superintendent Minister of the SunderlanJ
Circuit at that time was the Rev. Thos. H. Squancej
whose name is honourably connected with the firsj
Methodist Missions to the East. He was one of thl
seven missionaries who sailed for India in 1813 d
company with Dr. Coke. The latter, as is weJ
known, died suddenly during the voyage, and tlij
young missionaries were left to begin their wor|
without their veteran leader. After labouring
India for nine years, Mr. Squance was compelled
by the state of his health, to return to England
and the remainder of his long life was spent in tlij
home ministry. He was a wise, faithful, kindll
pastor, and took a warm interest in young Punshon'
welfare. From him, as his Superintendent, it woiill
be necessary to procure a " note," as the old phrasj
was, authorising him to preach at such and suclj
places within the circuit. This was the usual coursi
prior to becoming a recognised local preacher, aiil
F42-]
LIFE AT SUyDERLAND.
35
forded a preliminary test of fituesa. Mr. Squaiice
jadily furnished the required " note." This earliest
3deutial of his ministry was highly prized by its
)ssessor, and carefully preserved to the last. It
ms as follows : —
"SuNDKKt-AND, Mardi 2ijth, 184'2.
Tho bearer, W. M. Punshon, is hereby authorised to preach at tho
Allowing times and phices :—
April ;5rd Southwick.
., 17th
May 1st
„ 22nd
June 12th
July iird
Deptford.
Ironworks.
Hylton.
Burleigh Street.
Ballast Hills.
T. H. Squanci:."
Ajiril -ith he writes : — "Yesterday I ventured to stand up and declare
le unsearchable riches of Christ. You know that it ha long been
(subject of my thoughts and prayers. Many of my perhap.-! too partial
liends discovered my call before I found it out myself. I have had
(juent intimations from Mr. Squance to the same effect, and on
L'diiesday week Mr. Allen met me in the street, and told me in so
my words that I ought to preach. These things decided me, and in
kpendence upon God I ventured. But oh the struggle for purity of
lotive. for singleness of eye ! Who is sufficient for these things? Pray
Ir me. Pray that every high thought may be humbled, that every vain
Pagination may be cast down. Pray that in my ministrations my
[aster only may be seen."
liiiiust l()//i, 1842. "I have been lately very much depressed in spirit,
i down, but not destroyed,' but in the midst of my depression I havp
It the power of Christ to save. I preached at the Ironworks on Sunday*
ternoon, and felt my soul blessed. While recommending religion to
lers, I felt determined to secure more of it myself. At our prayer-
eoting in the Assembly Garth at night we had an especial refreshing. I
I not remember ever attending a place where I was so much blessed
bere were Kempster, C. Smith, Wm. Perks, Fitzgerald, T. C. Squance,
Id myself, and after the meeting we woke the eclioes in Ryhopo Lauo
|th our hymns, for which exploit I was punished by my old friend the
. . Mr. Steward, I am glad to say, remains at Newcastle. I hope to
^ve more opportunities of hearing his thoughts that breathe and words
burn.
\Au(just2Sth, 1842. ^Written from Glaayow.) "The social principle is
36
jr. M OR LEY PUNSHON.
Bti'oiig within me, and I owe ii deep debt of gratitude to tlic ProvideiKij
which has thrown my lot in the midst of associates whose influence is f(;
the most part benign and hallowed, and is exerted to lead me in the way ol
truth. . . . We were too late for the churches this morning, so went inJ
the Catholic chapel. This afternoon wo went to St. Jude's Churdl
where I had the pleasure of hearing Henry Melvill of London, wy
gave us a most splendid sermon, delivered in a Methodist style. Thifl
evening I found my way to the Methodist chapel, where I heurd J
gootl plain sermon on the paschal blood. I felt that blocnl was prcciouil
to me.
" I have thought much of late on the responsiliility of the work of tht|
ministry. I called on Mr. Allen the other day, and he asked if I wa
preparing for the May District Meeting. I name this because I wanil
you to join me in prayer that in this matter I may be guided. !My owi|
opinion is that my health is not sufficiently good.''
December llth, 1842. " As regards preaching, I have plenty of worJ
and plenty of fame, so that were my motives worldly I should b«|
satisfied. Hut I am not. I want the success which I have alwarJ
regarded as the true and only criterion of the ministerial call. I preacliwl
in the town a fortnight ago, and had a crowded chapel, and felt eonsiderJ
able liberty while speaking from 'Behold he prayeth.' I was shockeiil
to hear that one who heard me on Sunday night died on Monday, beinn
drowned in the river. Oh ! how faithful we should be, declaring con|
stantly the whole counsel of Gotl."j
From the foregoing extracts it will be seen witli|
what steadiness the current of his life was settingf
towards the work of the ministry. The interest!
which he felt in politics, though not extinct, wasl
now altogether subordinate. A passion for preacbf
ing, to which his natural gifts and religious aspiraj
tions alike contributed, had become the masterl
passion of his soul. Along with the delight thafl
attends the exercise of oratorio powers, there camel
a deeper insight into the great realities of sin adl
redemption, and a graver, more chastened estimate!
of the office and work of the minister of Christ. It|
was well indeed that misgivings, and conflicts, a
inward humiliation were given in this precociousl
B42-]
./ LOCAL PREACHER.
.?7
l])ring-time, wlien perhaps tlio one thing to be
?ared was a too swift and easy blossoming. The
lifticulties involved in the preparation and delivery
[f sermons, which are in themselves a discipline for
lost young preachers, hardly existed for him. He
lermouised with ease ; divisions, paragraphs, sen-
dees took shape as fast as his flying pen could
(x them. There was no laborious committing to
leinory, — that was accomplished in the act of
loinposing. What he wrote he could recall, page
Ifter page, with perfect accuracy and freedom ; while
lis delivery, rapid, rushing, yet subtly modulated,
|]iarmed the ear, and strangely touched the emotions.
'hese were great gifts — gifts rather than acquire -
leuts. What many men by slow degrees, through
|outiimed effort, in some measure come to possess,
ms his he knew not how. Little more than a
|oy, he began to preach, and at once found himself
imous. The jieople flocked to hear him. The
Ihapels were crowded. He was pressed to preach
|t Doucaster, and seventeen hundred people filled
^riory Place Chapel. Invitations poured in upon
[im from the towns and villages near Sunderland,
lid from Hull. He entered at once upon the
[onours and upon the perils of a popular preacher.
|ud surely none would lightly estimate those perils
the case of one so young as William Morley
Kmshon, whose temperament — affectionate, impres-
tble, ever craving sympathy, and susceptible to pain
lid pleasure at the hands of others — would naturally
90se him to all the dangers of the position. But
16 safeguards were forthcoming. As has been said,
ley consisted, in part, of the inner spiritual disci-
38
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[ruAP.
pline by which it pleased God to chasten him, and, iJ
part at least, the wholesome, practical work of th(
prayer-meeting, the Sunday-school, the mission hauil
served to keep him in touch with homely peoplti
and humble ways, and maintain the balance of thinnj
as against the exciting influences of popular serviceij
and admiring crowds.
By a special grace of God, his conscience haJ
been awakened to the evil of vanity, and to thj
presence of something in himself that was eithej
that, or the root and beginning of it. He took tlil
warning, and fought this enemy down to its lurking
places. The victory was given him with such coaj
pleteness, that few ever knew of the danger, and cj
the way it had been overcome. On this defeatel
vice the opposing virtue was established with sucj
happy mastery that, through his after career, of
the tributes he received from friends, and particularlj
from his brethren in the ministry, the most frequei]
was that which was rendered to his humility,
was a common saying that nothing was more woij
derful in Punshon than his modesty.
His early friendship with Eichard Ridgill con
tinned undiminished during the years that foUowtj
his removal from Doncaster. Poetry and politil
formed the principal topics of correspondence betwea
them. But Ridgill was surprised, and not altogetlij
pleased, at the direction things were taking with
friend. In a letter written long afterwards, he sayj
"I remember, as it were but yesterday, how, when we were pacij
up and down Prospect Street, Hull, he told me he had begun to preaJ
I listened with amazement, and something like contempt, for, Wesle)|
though I was, my heart was not then as his heart, and I thought I
a fool."
B42.]
RIDGir.I. nF.COMKS A Af/SSIOXARY.
19
In the summer of 1841 they spent some time
)ifetlier at Sunderland. Kidgill was then intending
seek his fortunes in New Zeahmd, and if lie
poked with little sympathy on his friend's purpc.se
If ente the ministry, the latter just as little
[pproved his notion of emigrating. He endeavoured
lore than once to dissuade him from it, and
rrote : —
'' Aro you going to prosecute this whim of yours ? la Now Zealand
till precious in your sight, or has reason reasserted its supremacy ? I
|ee(l not say that I sincerely hope such is the case."
larly in the year 1842 Ridgill left England, not,
lowever, for New Zealand, but for South Africa,
'he friends parted at Sunderland in August 1840.
'heir m 'fc meeting- place was City Eoad Chapel,
jondon the August of 1880.
Soon a.^er reaching South Africa, Ridgill was
Converted, and almost immediately entered upon
nissionary work, thus passing into the ministry
)efore his friend Punshon. The last had become
irst. William was filled with joy on hearing of
(liis, and wrote to his cousin : —
" I want you to praise God with me. Richard Ridgill has felt the
iwer of the gospel, and is now engaged as a missionary, preaching in
pie regions beyond the unsearchable riches of Christ. ' What hath (rod
tTouglit ! ' How strangely and beautifully do all things work together
l|
cousin : —
" WiiiTKiiAVEN, Mail -^th, 1H4G.
" I am completely exhausted this morning. Thank God it was wortll
my labour. Two were made to rejoice last night, and there were thr«|
others in distress. There was a magnificent congregation.
'" I imagine Carlisle will be my next year's abiding-place (mind, thisai
yet a secret). I was there this week at the District Meeting. I havehjil
invitations from Hexham, Gainsborough, and Sevenoaks. I hope tkJ
Lord will direct me. I wish to be in all things guided by Him. I ai|
going to reprint Wild FloirrvK."
In the summer of this year he and his frieiii
M'Cullagh went together to Keswick to speak atal
meeting. They took the opportunity to make a shonl
0.]
VISIT TO THE LAKE DISTRICT.
57
)i]r through the Lake District, It was a time of
itense enjoyment to them both, as, in addition to
lauy ether bonds of brotherliness, they were one
their love of nature, and susceptibility to poetic
iflueuces. They went on pilgrimage to Greta Hall,
long the residence of Southey, then but three
[ears dead. Mr. M'Cullagh noticed a characteristic
If his companion's mind that was undoubtedly an
[biding one, — that ''human sympathies, social in-
Itincts, and admiration of genius " were more quick
lud sensitive with him than the feeling for nature,
llthough the latter was by no means dull and undis-
bermng.
He says : —
" The poetical associations of the district invested the landscapes with
Idditional attractions to him. He remembered that we were in the
egion of the Lake Poets as well as at the Lakes. In Lays of Hope, pub-
lished soon after this visit, are some lines on ' Lowdore,' in which the
liithor sa3s more in praise of Southey than of the waterfall. ... In
^peaking of the Scottish lochs, he told me that in sailing down Loch
[atrine, in order to enjoy it with intenser relish, he read Tlte. Lady of the
bike all the time.
" After rambling on the shores of Derwentwater, and visiting the water-
fall, we returned to Keswick, and had a glorious meeting. The White-
baveii minister spoke in his usual style, and so excited were myself and
^he late Robert Haworth, who was then stationed at Keswick, that
[leither of us was able to go to sleep the livelong night, but we chatted
intil morning."
The sermon preached in Carlisle at five o'clock on
la May morning was memorable for something more
tliau the run of two miles that preceded, or the
immediate impression made upon those who heard
it. The Methodists of Carlisle set their hearts upon
securing Mr. Punshon for their circuit when he
should leave Whitehaven, and, as appears from the
ihint given to his cousin, they at once informed him
58
U^. MORLEV PUNSHOJ^.
[CHAP. tlL^B46.] /.
of their desire. Accordingly, on completing hiil
second year at Whitehaven, he was appointed tfl
Carlisle, and removed thither at the beginning c:j
September 1847.
Almost immediately afterwards he wrote at con]
siderable length to his old friend Ridgill, then coin]
pleting his four years' probation as a missionarjl
in South Africa, and about to be married. Ht[
congratulates him warmly upon his approachinj
happiness, and, after the manner of the boyish acJ
romantic days whose memory was so dear to both]
finds prose too tame a medium for his thoughts, an(i|
utters them in verse.
He, too, has a deep, pure happiness in whicll
he would have his friend rejoice with him. He has!
won the love of the most amiable, intelligent, andl
pious of maidens, and cannot thank God sufficiently!
that after long hoping and waiting he is nowengagea|
to Maria, daughter of Mr. Vickers of Gateshead.
" And now, as to myself. My prevailing feeling is a deep and painfulj
consciousness of unworthiness, pressing upon me at times so as to bej
almost intolerable. . . . The hue of earthliness is upon my actions, mjl
distrust is so dishonourable, my love so languid, my worldliness so intensej
that I hardly dare believe I am a child of God. . . . My position iil
a perilous one. I am generally popular, the breath of indiscreet praisi
wafts so oft across my soul, that I am in danger of thinking more highljl
of myself than I ought to think, and it has struck me that God keeps m\
humble by scant prosperity in my own soul. When the acoliimations bjl
which I have been greeted, and the attachment I have inspired, woulill
have elated me beyond measure, I have sadly breathed, as I conteDi|
plated the sinfulness within, ' Ah ! if th( knew my heart ! ' and tk
thought has been a stern schoolmaster to dwPe rae to Christ. Oh ! myj
brother, it is a hard matter to keep :ilways humbly at the feet of JcsusT
The bribe of talent, of applause, and, above all, because most like an angell
of God, the bribe of usefulness, are very dangerous, and can only bel
withstood by vigilant, unceasing prayer. ... \
" When I last wrote you I was in Whitehaven, and, I think, had jii«t
^6.] LETTER. TO TtiE ReV. k. RWGtLL.
59
jce;
torcd upon my second year. I was unanimously invited to remain
bird year in the circuit, but it seemed to me that my work there was
I could number about sixty who ascribed their conversion, under
1, to my instrumentality. I had invitations from Hexham, Bishop
ckliiud, and Workington, but my predilections were in favour of
rlisle. Still, I did not wish to choose my appointment, so I accepted
e. Here I am, however, by appointment of Conference, and if the
ers that be are ordained of God, and He blessed all their proceedings,
hich I somewhat doubt, seeing the unjustifiable means sometimes
rted to in order to secure good circuits, etc., — I may suppose it is
vidential.
I am now in my study, in sight of the fine old cathedral whose
crrie chime ' gives it a sympathy with humanity, and makes one feel as
ugh the mighty ma.ss had a knowledge of mortal joy and woe, and
ilod within its majestic bosom a heart of flesh and blood. To- the
t is the time-honoui'cd Castle that has stood some seven sieges, and in
time of border feuds was the defence of the English frontier. There
e old dungeon in which Fergus Maclvor was confined, and Gallows
, where he expiated with his life his mad devotion to the Stuarts,
view from the Castle rampart is exceedingly beautiful. A vast
nt of fertile country stretches in rich landscape before you, through
ch the Eden meanders, its glossy waters reflecting the sunbeams that
ght to wanton with the silvery stream. Our cause is low, having
in rent by the demon of division. Our labour is almost confined to the
The country places are very miserable. With the exception of
arwick' there is not one worth mention, and our sanctuaries are
er cramped dwelling-houses where we are ' cribbed, cabined, and
.fined.' or schoolrooms ranging in dignity between a hen-house and
ble, somewhat too orderly for the one, scarcely so respectable as the
r. 'Warwick' derives its importance principally from Warwick Hall,
lady of which, Mrs. Parker, is a member of the Society. I dined with
on Sabbath last in company with her brother, James Heald, M.P., one
;ho two Methodists who have been drafted into Parliament by the last
tiou. Our chapel in Carlisle is good, and our congregations increasing,
pe, upon the whole, there is prospect of blessing. I have an active
riutendeiit (the Rev. Edward Sumner), who is also Chairman of the
rict; which I esteem an advantage, tending as it does to initiate me in
net business, and I trust ' the beauty of the Lord will be upon us,'
that the year on which we are entering will be marked by much
iijf power. . . .
The last has been a somewhat stormy Conference. The case of
hoy, the American Revivalist, has created a great deal of discussion.
y of our people are displeased with the stoppage put upon his labours
he Conference. Others — amongst them, myself— deem them right in
6o
JV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
the thing, but grievously wrong in the manner. Be that as it may, mactj
heart-burnings have been created which time alone can allay, if they 1
allayed at all. . . . Considerable excitement has been caused by
publication of certain ' Fly-sheets ' reflecting on the proceedings
governmental acts of Dr. Bunting and his party, written in a bad spin
and containing extremely vile imputations of motives, yet containiij
withal much deep and telling truth. The ' Fly-sheets ' were condemiit|
by a vote of Conference, unanimous except Dr. Beaumont and S. Duni
A resolution was then moved that the preachers should sign a DeclaratioJ
expressive of their abhorrence, and disavowing all connection with ti^
authorship. Then came the tug of war. They debated five or six hoii:
upon it ; principal speakers for the Declaration, Wm. Vevers, GeorJ
Osborn, John Scott, Dr. Bunting ; against it, A. E. Farrar, A. Bel
J. Fowler, S. Dunn, Dr. Beaumont. At last it was carried by a showd
bands so nearly equal that the President hesitated for some moments i
pronounce the decision. It was consequently sent round. Many, I sii;|
pose, have refused to sign, — I, with my usual obstinacy, amongst the i
" Just before Conference, I was down at Marden, preaching thd
anniversary sermons. The cause is prospering nicely. They have nt^
about twenty-five members, and are likely, I hope, to be established,
reflect upon that part of my life with almc ,t unmixed satisfaction
chastened still by the remembrance of my own unworthiness. . . .
" I am still a monomaniac in autograph gathering, upon which I best!^
a relaxing thought sometimes when my bow is unstrung.
" You would hardly, before leaving England, hear of George Stewai
one of the most eloquent of our preachers. His grasp of mind is immen!
and I should think it no exaggeration to say he is equal to Watson :j
power, and superior in his perception of the beauty of truth. He is i
popular. His preaching is too ethereal, and his dehvery unpleasant,
the intelligent of his congregation esteem him very highly.
" We have had warm work in defending ourselves from the attaci
of The Christian Witness, a publication edited by Dr. Campbell, whi
has opened a furious cannonade against our polity. Vevei-s and Jol
H. James, the latter especially, have written well in our defence.
Evangelical Alliance, I fear, will be productive of but little good wlii
this demon of party remains unexorcised.
" The late election has been a very strange one ; memorable for t
return of Lord Ashley at Bath, and defeat of Roebuck ; for the rejectiJ
of Macaulay at Edinburgh, and the drafting into the House of such ml
as F. O'Connor, George Thompson, W. J. Fox, and others, and fori
complete fusion of parties. We shall see what the ensuing session bria
forth. The general opinion is that the Parliament will be a short oij
Lord John Russell, after all, is the most candid and consistent statera
in the bunch. I hope the country will give him a fair trial.
46.]
COURSE OF READING.
6i
["What have you read lately? I am making Wesley's 'Christian
ibrary ' my staple reading for this year. There are some fine massive
itbs in the old divines. The very dust of their thoughts is gold dust.
ihave not a very large library as yet, but it is large enough for a young
m.
I have to go to Brampton to preach missionary sermons on Sunday,
Id address a missionary meeting on Monday. I wish you would just
Ime over as an unexpected deputation ! Do you get the ' Notices ' out
buder 'i If so, have you seen a letter from Edward J. Robinson from
feylon ? He is one of the most gifted fellows the Society has ever sent
It, but very eccentric. He and I passed together at the London District
(eeting.
' Adieu, my dear Richard. Let us live near to God, preach the truth in
i simplicity and power, and many shall be the crown of our rejoicing in
(c day of God."
The reference to Wesley's Christian Library as
iruishmg his staple reading may, perhaps, need
[planation. It consists of a vast series of extracts,
the original edition extending to fifty volumes,
sleeted by Wesley from the best theological writers
the English language, with translations of early
fhristian writers, and of moderns like Pascal and
Irndt. It includes what were, in his judgment, the
lost valuable writings of Anglican divines like Hall,
[aylor, Leighton, Beveridge, and John Smith; and
such Puritans as Owen and Goodwin, Sibbes and
[anton, Baxter and Howe. This library of practical
jvinity, prepared for the use of the early Methodists
snerally, and of the preachers in particular, is one
many proofs that Wesley's ideals both in doctrine
id devotion were sober and conservative. The
lergy with which he pursued his evangelistic
tbours was not greater than that with which he
trove to give the spiritual life of his people adequate
lourishment and discipline. The first few genera-
pus of Methodist preachers were, to a large
6f
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. Ill
extent, "brought up" on the Christian LihrarA
to which their great leader did not fail to directl
their attention with such exhortations and reproof!
as seemed necessary. But its value relativeljl
diminished as time went on. The bibhcal anil
theological writings of Adam Clarke and Kicharj
Watson possessed a fresher and more immediattf
interest for the younger men. Moreover, the growl
ing abundance and cheapness of religious literahirej
and the charm of contemporary thought and writiDn
as compared with the ancient, threw this stout anal
of divines more and more into the rear, — which, iij
such cases, means the remoter shelves of libraiiej
and the recesses of second-hand book shops. Herf
and there a young minister was found courageoui|
enough to face the course of study followed by bi|
fathers, and read Divinity under John Wesley'ij
guidance, — for the most part greatly to his advai]
tage. Mr. Punshon was one of these. It furnishel
a kind of reading well fitted to qualify and supple
ment his characteristic tendencies. These carriel
him, as is apparent through his whole life, towardj
poetry, eloquence, and human affairs ; and with liii
enormous and ever-increasing facility of utteranct]
it was well for him to serve apprenticeship iil
private to the grave masters of Anglican anJ]
Puritan orthodoxy.
For the rest, his letter to Mr. Ridgill shows liiii
happy in his work and in his engagement with 1
Vickers ; not altogether delivered from the depressioi
and rnorbid self-reproach which in earlier years liaj
often filled his soul with gloom, but evidently less i
less exposed to their influence as his life widened
l^-l
MINISTRY AT CARLISLE.
63
energetic and successful work, and his heart was
)otlied by the loving Kympathy of one who was to
liis wife ; strongly interested in Methodist affairs,
the leading men and public measures of the
lurch in which he was rapidly becoming known ;
id still, as in his boyish days, taking pleasure in
)serving and discussing the ways of Parliament.
The popularity to which he alludes had now fairly
^sumed the character, though not yet the dimen-
)ns, that it was to retain for so many years. To
^e old chapel in Fisher Street streamed crowds of
Iger hearers, and all the calm proprieties of the
(aid cathedral city were stirred to their very depths.
16 recognised classifications of orthodox and
sterodox, Church people and Nonconformists, pro-
Issional men and tradespeople, were confounded in
}is new order of things. Persons found themselves
le by side in the Methodist chapel who had never
^en in one before, who had never met one another
^ere or elsewhere. Anglican clergymen. Dissenting
[inisters, Roman Catholics and Quakers, gentlefolks
)m the city and squires from the country, lawyers
id doctors, shopkeepers, farmers, and labourers,
ftli here and there an itinerant actor, — all sorts
1(1 conditions of men to be found in or near the
Id Border capital, flocked to hear the young
peacher, and to be excited, subdued, moved by a
ilpit oratory unlike anything they had ever heard.
was not subtlety or originality of thought, or
Ovelty of doctrine, that drew the crowds and held
^em in breathless, often almost painful, suspense,
respect of doctrine it was Methodist preaching
generally understood, and there was little sign of
64
JV. MO RLE Y PUNSHON.
[chap.
new or deeper insight into familiar tnith ; but therJ
was a glow, a sweep, an exulting rush ( i quicj
following sentences, exuberant in style, — too iiiucij
so, a critic might say, — that culminated now an|
again in passages of overwhelming declamation,
sank to a tender pathos that brought tears to m
accustomed eyes. His whole soul was in his worli
The ornate, musical sentences, full of harmonion
delights for the ear, were no mere literary devices!
they were his natural mode of expression, raised an]
quickened by the emotions of the preacher's hearJ
His voice, often harsh and husky at first, woulf
clear and strengthen as he proceeded, revealia
unexpected range and power of modulation,
constrained, uneasy attitude grew free and gracefull
he stood erect; the ^eft arm held behind him, witl
his right hand, instinct with nervous life, he seemel
to grasp his audience, to summon and dismisj
arguments, to cut his way through difficulties, uutiij
with uplifted face, radiant with spiritual light, boti
hands were outstretched in impassioned climax,
raised as in contemplation of some glory seen fro:j
afar.
Meanwhile, the crowded congregation was bonj
along with him. Commonplace, unimaginatii
people, and susceptible youths and maidens, til
refined and reserved, and dull honest peasants, gooi
old saints and careless sinners, — all alike came undtj
the spell of his pulpit power. To not a few
ministry at this time was the means of conversioJ
and newness of life ; to very many it brought helj
and nourishment, stimulus and strength ; while
multitudes it was the disclosure of
unimagm^l
848.1
MINISTRY A'l CARLISLE.
«5
leauty and impressiveness in the Gospel of Jesus
Jhrist, with what results the day will declare.
Even to the little handfuls of country people in
le villages he gave of his best. There was no need
|t that time to husband his strength or economise
lis resources. Those were happy days of youthful
}eslmess and vigour; and chapel, barn, or farmer's
itchen, — it was all one to him, if there were souls to
reach to. In one country place in the circuit, the
jople met in the single room of a cottage, where,
)r lack of space, some had to sit upon the four-post
3d which stood in the corner. It is still remem-
3red how, on one occasion, an uncouth rustic came
lither, and sat with eyes and mouth wide open in
stonishment, listening and staring, until, unable
iger to contain himself, he gave utterance, in the
3ry middle of an eloquent passage, to a long
iphatic " Coo-o-sh ! " of wonder and amazement.
July 1849 his period of residence at Carlisle
lime to a close, and with it the customary term of
[inisterial probation. To use official language, " he
id travelled four years," and the time had arrived
being admitted into full connection with the
)uference. His ordination and his marriage, both
[gerly anticipated, were now near at hand; and
11 of gratitude for the past, and of bright hopes
the future, he appeared at the Conference
lich assembled in Manchester on the 25th of
5
CHAPTER IV.
1849— 1855.
NEWCASTLE, SHEFFIELD. Aged 25 to 31.
The Manchester Conference. — Ordination. — Marriage. — Appointed ;
Newcastle. — " The Agitation." — Recollections by Mr. Arthur and
Parker. — Removes to Sheffield. — Family Life and Circuit Work-j
First Appearance at Exeter Hall. — The Prophet of Horeb. — Growq
Popularity.
The Conference of 1849 is memorable in tls
annals of Methodism. The agitation and iin
easiness that had prevailed thronghout the Coi
nexion for some time past called for prompt ai
reassuring action. The particular plague that need
to be stayed was that of anonymous pamphleteeri
in which all reasonable limits of free criticism wi|
passed, and the bitterest personal slanders were so
broadcast. With a connexional polity like that
Methodism, and with the discipline of mutual inqui
and oversight which, from the beginning, Method)
ministers have exercised among themselves, it w
inevitable that the Conference should use whate?i
authority it possessed to discover and reprimand
authors of an unworthy and mischievous agitatio;
It will be remembered that at an earlier stage of ti
matter Mr. Punshon had spoken of the anonymoi
84')-l
TIIK MANCHESTER CONFERENCE.
67
);iiii|)lilots as " written iu a bad spirit, and contain-
!<' extremely vile imputations of motives, and yet
joiiliiining nuicli deep and telling truth." As the
jii'itiition progressed, and his acquaintance with its
fcal moaning increased, lie modified the latter part
){ this opinion, and was confirmed in the former.
In the unhap})y conllicts that shook the Connexion
lor some live following years, and in which the loss
)f lOOjOOO members was sustained, he bore his part
,ith full conviction that in opposing the ill-omened
reform ' ' he was contending for the interests of
rutli, of freedom, and of rehgion. But that was yet in
he future. A probationer on the eve of ordination,
was not for him to do more than listen to Con-
3reuce debates, to watch the course of events, and
form such judgments of the men engaged and the
ssiies involved as he was able.
The Rev. Thomas Jackson, Theological Tutor during
[is brief residence at Richmond College, was elected
Resident, and the Rev. John Hannah, Theological
'utor at Didsbury College, Secretary. During the
jssions of the Conference Mr. Punshon and his
Keiid M'Cullagh sat side by side in a front pew
|f tlie gallery in Oldham Street Chapel, second only
City Road Chapel in its historic associations, —
ssociations that have now no local habitation to
|liug to, but which will be preserved, it may be hoped,
fitting chronicles, and in Manchester tradition, for
iuerations to come. Mr. M'Cullagh writes : —
"From our coigne of vantage we watched with intense interest the
roceedings of Conference. We heard tlie two speeches of Thomas
tckson, one after his election to the chair, the other in introducing the
pestion of ' Character,' — both delivered with solemn earnestness, and
lielxxling the disciplinary measures which followed, aud have made
68
JV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. IV.
that Conference memorable. We witnessed the exciting scene when]
James Everett appeared at the bar, and was questioned with regard nj
his connection with the ' Fly-sheets,' and we heard the sentence o;j
expulsion. . . . Mr. Punshon was much struck with the debating powc;!
of the Conference, and, notwithstanding his own special oratorical gifts,!
he greatly coveted this peculiar kind of ability, in which, however,
never attained the same excellence as that to which he attained in '.fj
prepared deliverances of the pulpit and the platform."
Among the young ministers completing theiil
probation at this Conference were no less than fivel
who in after years rose to the position of Presidentj
viz., William M. Punshon, Thomas M'Cullagli,
J. H. Rigg, Ebenezer Jenkins, and Richard RobeitJ
At the public examination, when it is customary foil
the men aiout to be ordained to give some accounij
of their call to the ministry, Mr. Punshon spob|
calmly and modestly : —
' He felt that next to his conversion to God, his ordination was tliti
most important crisis of his life. Remembering the way in which he luil
been led, and the unmerited mercies he had enjoyed, that he had btt:|
made a child of God through faith in Christ, and called to the s;icrK|
work of the ministry, he felt overwhelmed with gratitude. He was
child of pious parents, and was instructed in the fear of God and taugLj
to reverence His ministers and read His Word. He scarcely rememberetj
the time when he was not the subject of religious impressions. The firsi
conviction of which he had distinct remembrance was produced when iii|
was about nine years of age by a sermon from the Rev. W. H. Taylor, bcl
it was not until his fourteenth year that the voice came by which he wii|
really awakened to seek the Lord. It came from his mother's grave...
' During the years of his probation he had laboured under much di^l
couragement and depression, but God had upheld, and both humbled ail
gladdened him by giving him seals to his ministry. His conviction mI
unfaltering and constant that he was where God would have him be. ftl
felt also that he was called to labour in the ranks of the Weslewj
Ministry. His love for Methodism w ;is not merely hereditary, it was tkl
result of enlightened and sincere conviction. He knew not where hecoii»|
find greeaor pastures or stiller waters, and while he trusted h3 shod
always cuensh fraternal feelings towards all the children of God, here «!
Lis home.'
1849-]
NE WCA STLE- UPON- TYNE.
69
The ordination took place in Irwell- Street Chapel,
the charge being delivered by Dr. Newton.
Mr. Pimslion left jSIanchester a few days after his
)rdiuation. He had made the acquaintance of the
issembly of which he was soon to become a dis-
tinguished member. lie had begun to understand it
md to love it, to gain an insight into its spirit and
nodes of procedure, and to revere the great principles
,'liicii it embodied and maintained. Attracted and
Impressed by various types of intellectual and
spiritual power, he listened with delight to the
)reanhing of Mr. Steward and the speeches of
Mr. Osborn. To eacli of tliese, in his respective
sphere, he assigned the palm of superiority over all
)thers. He himself was appointed to preach on a
)uud{iy afternoon at Ebenezer Chapel, Kedbank. A
considerable number of ministers came to hear him,
\\A he preached a powerful sermon from John x. 10,
I am come that they might have life," etc. Befo 9
[he Conference closed he was appointed to Newcastle-
ipou-TynCj a circuit having four ministers and about
kixteen hundred members. He was the youngest of
[he four, and his colleagues were William Burt,
fVilliam Pemberton, and William Andrews.
His four years of probation for the ministry and his
[wo years' engagement to Miss Vickers were com-
pleted at the same time. His ordination was the
leal of the former, and his marriage almost imme-
liately afterwards brought the latter to its happy
Conclusion. Like himself, Maria Vickers was the
[Inld of Christian parents, and had been trained in
devout Methodist home. She is described by those
fho knew her as of a sweet and lively disposition.
70
tV. MORLEY PUNSHOJsr.
[CHAP. IV,
[849.]
and possessing f-n almost exuberant flow of spirits.
She had a marked capacity for friendship, and fromj
childhood was noted for her strong attachments an^J
for the constancy with which she held to her friends.
She was in full sympathy with the aims of a minister';
life, and well fitted by character, training, and perl
sonal experience of religion to be a true helper to lierj
husband. From the home of her parents in Gatesl
head to her new home in Newcastle she had but tc]
cross the Tyne, and with every promise of happinesij
that heart could wish, amid the praj^ers and blessiug;
of their many friends, she became the wife of Wiiliaiiij
Morley Punshon. They were married at the Wesleyanj
Chapel, Gateshead, on the 22nd August, 1849.
Newcastle was a very different sphere of labouij
from those in which Mr. Punshon's lot had hitherti
been cast. Whitehaven and Carlisle were not to
named in comparison with the capital of north-ea^'j
England for population, wealth, and industrial enter]
prise. The swarming populations of Tyne-side, rugged
strong-willed, warm-hearted, might well move to itJ
depths the heart of a young minister. There isj
indeed, no more vigorous, capable humanity oi
English ground— capable of good or evil, of briitij
wickedness or high-strung, manly religion. Ym
its earlier -^ days Methodism has fastened upon
region with a strong grasp. Second only tJ
London and Bristol in tlie honours of Metli m
history, Newcastle has been the scene of some ol
most characteristic successes. From Joltn Wesl(
day to the present time Methorlism in Newcastle li
maintamed an earnest and effective witness for rhr>-
ari beeji the means of turiiiug umltitudes " fruin datl
ess to lig
lie Tyne
;lie charn
erhaps le
ith mere
eans as t
osed to ^s
tlie charm
■eacher tn
hitehave
canny" \
atiiral. IV
est preach
;ion of goc
tanrlard of
ative shre^
nd nothing
|n the cong
loctrine, wL
lihough he f
mgels, unles
^nd depth.
Mr. Puns]
nvoH^ed in
ipprenticesh
|o precocity
)roinisiug yc
^lid judged b
rreat expect
Jict ; great
V nuist rise
ill]:, re.
He ejjtfn-ed
849-1
MINISTRY IN NEWCASTLE.
less to light, and from the power of Satan unto God."
'lie Tyne-siders are by no means unsusceptible of
Itlie charms of eloquent utterance, but they are
)erhaps less inclined than most people to be put off
j'ith mere words. They want to know what a man
leans as well as to hear what he says, and are dis-
3osed to weigh and judge his thought whatever be
|ilie charm of his style. If some doubted whether the
3reacher who had drawn crowded congregations at
Vhitehaven and Carlisle would succeed among the
canny" Newcastle folk, the doubt was not uu-
latural. Moreover, Newcastle had knowledge of the
)est preachers Methodism had produced. The tradi-
hon of good preaching was well established. The
standard of coTa;;cirison was high. And besides the
lative shrewdi.f\;R, are to detect what was showy
lud nothing more, mere were ancient men and women
|n the congregations well experienced in Christian
ioctrine, who would give little thanks to a preacher,
fhough he spoke with the tongues of men and of
mgels, unless he preached the gospel in its fulness
^nd depth.
Mr. Punshon was not unconscious of what was
[iivO'Ved in his appointment to Newcastle. His
apprenticeship was over. The privileges attaching
|o precocity had expired by lapse of time. From a
promising youth he had become a man, to be tested
^ini judged by the standards that are applied to men.
rreat expectations had been raised, and mast bo
let ; great opportunities opened out before iiiin, and
iimst rise to their height, or make conspicuous
iiluff".
He eiitered upon liis work with unfeigned humility,
72
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap, IV
bat without fear, sustained by his trust in God, am|
the sympathy of his true-hearted wife.
As a preacher he took possession at once of tbl
wider sphere that Newcastle afforded. His popi!|
larity was immediate and unbroken. The Methodisil
Societies were, however, sorely disturbed by tlifj
agitation that followed the disciplinary action of tb]
Conference ; and, as often happens at such timesj
base elements from outside were drawn in, and thel
world's worst manners increased and embittered tkl
controversies of the Church. His friend M'Cullagli
was stationed in the Shotley Bridge Circuit, onlyj
fourteen miles away, running a course akin to hiil
own in usefulness aud honour ; and by correspondeucti
and personal intercourse they strengthened owl
another for the duty of those difficult times. Mrj
M'CuUagh says : —
" He wrote saying, ' Are yon quiet in Shotley ? We have a good deal!
of agitation here, but unless Everett comes in person I think it will sooil
subside.' Matters, however, grew worse, and after a time he wrote I'j
say, ' I have had my first public hissing.' This treatment he receiveij
from a mob which waylaid the Leaders' Meeting at Brunswick Chapeil
to eipress disapprobntion of some act of discipline which had beeil
exercised. Mr. Pemberton, afraid to face the mob, clambered over tbil
walls of back yards to make good his escape to his own house. This gooil
man doon after fell into ill-health and died. His death, it was thougtl,
was hastened by the anxieties and annoyances to which he had bttsi
subjected. His colletigue, Punshon, easily rose superior to the ditficultic!|
of the position. The tide of his pulpit popularity, moreover, swept i
opposition before it. However some might condemn the action of tbl
Conference, the people were irresistibly drawn to hear this young Apoll« I
this 'eloquent roan and mighty in the Scriptures.' Many came froij
other circuits to hear him. At Hexham, tv/cnty miles up the Tyno, thertj
were some who ran down frequently to Newcastle for the purpose. "
It is not intended here to refer in any controversialj
spirit to what was once well-known to Methodists m
t850.]
' ' THE A GTTA TION. ' '
n
Chap«i.]
liid bet'J
I over tkil
lIus goftil
I though;!
lad bttJJ
Hficulfel
ept all
uf tbf
Aiwllcs.1
ic froil
theni
lersiail
tsts A
"the Agitation." It has passed into history, — it
ni'^ht ahnost be said, ancient history. Its ashes are
jold, and if any one desired to kindle them anew, he
,'ould find it impossible to do so. Such mention
IS it receives here arises solely from the fact that Mr.
'luislion was, of necessity, caught within its toils,
ind that it cannot therefore be wholly omitted from
the story of his life. In a letter addressed to a friend
it Carhsle, he discussed the matter at considerable
?ngth, and, as will be seen, with much vigour of
criticism and general effectiveness. A meeting had
)eeu held by *' iieformers " in Carlisle, at which
^Tethodists were urged to "stop the supplies," that
to say, withhold their pecuniary support from the
linistry and the institutions of Methodism.
" But fifteen years have elapsod, my friend, as you painfully know,
^nce the Carlis^lc Wesleyan Society was rent in pieces on the very points
h.it are now disputed. No new feature has been introduced into the
Dutrovcrsy. jMinisterial assumption, reckless expenditure, tyrannical
oiiduct of tlie Conference, — these were the charges dinned into your ears
«7'(r (III ruiuAPam. in the unhallowed strifes of 18155. ' Stop the supplies '
ras as unsparingly recommended then as now. Nay, some of the minor
ctnrs in the former drama again strut upon the stage, having learned
lotliing by experience, and are anxious to be constitution-mongers
\ill. . . .
" I was somewhat surprised, I confess, to find the name of the chair-
liaii. But, though gifted by Providence with social position, and endow-
ments which mignt have qualified him for honourable and lasting
pefulness, he is a true child of Reuben, — 'unstable as water, he shall not
icci'i.' . . . He appears to have become proficient only in certain parts
f,'i'aiiniiar ; to wit, the iixhfw'itf article, the fuiuro tense, and the injini-
Ve iiKiod. Certain parties in hr called upon for subscriptions ; certain
Ifitricts lo hi' visited ; certain improvements in Sabbath school manage-
l«nt to he made : and they remain in futuro to the end of the chapter.
lis verbs all signify to bo, and to suffer, but never to do. I was some-
lliat siir|.ii.siii to find that t''>r nearly a whole twelvemonth be bad
Imiii td a Reformer; but he who has been 'everything by turns and
pthiiifr long ' caiuiot all at once })e transformed, and I do not despair of
74
tV. MORLKY PUNStiOM.
hearing by-and-byo tliat he has convened a meeting in favour of the I
Divine right of kings. Seriously, it is matter of lamentation that \
gentleman generally intelligent should surrender his better judgment for|
the equivocal honour of a back seat in the cave of Adullam."
After commeuting upon the speech of the gentle-
man who moved the first resokition, he continues]
thus : —
" To crown all, he brings a charge of impiety against nearly everjj
(Jhristian Church. The Establishment, Congregationalist, Baptist, Presbv- [
terian, Catholic, all are included in his tremendous anathema. Methodisil
is under his special malediction, and even his pot ' Association ' has soaiej
pretty little ' Reverends ' of its own. What must the poor man do? Tlej
Scotch Baptist Church seems to be the only place of refuge. But eveij
here he cannot be accommodated, for that quiet community are in tbej
habit of minding their own business, and his genius would have no scopi
amongst them. Alas for him ! He is the orphan of Christendom,
must stand in his glory a spiritual Ishmael, ' his hand against every DianJ
and every man's hand against him.' ... I was almost disposed to pass tkj
next resolution unnoticed, when I saw the mover's name. ' It's onhl
M •,' rose to my lips, and I was nearly decided. It is said that wh«|
members of the House of Commons arrive just as a division is about vX
take place, and there i« "o time for them to acquaint themselves withthej
merits of the matter in hand, they are accustomed to in 'le present case. Dissatisfii'd aUke with the Methodist!
and the Asnofiatiun at war with everything and everyl)ody, known astfc'
hor.se -fly of the S* i-ty for years, blessed with a conscience that mighjj
supply all the boarding-schools in the city with indiarubber for a twelv-
month, inventing a story about the scholars being supplied with a libtnj
allowance of port wine and other delicacies, in order to damage the Kins*- 1
wood Collection, he is the very man to do the dirty work from wliicbt'l
more respectable compeers shrink, and move the resolution about stoppiKj
the supplies.
" Mr. J. H seconded the resolution. I fear, I greatly fear, the Conj
forcnce must give up. They can stand out no longer. Mr. J. H 1
witlidrawii his support. Vir. J. H- has gone over to the enemy. Anil
wlio is Mr. J. H ■ ? A youth escaped from the nursery ! And In. I'l
if determined to out-herod Herod, accused th(! Conference of duplicity
and, borrowing wholesale and vei'batim from an older rebel in the HVv/' "I
'y'//«('.s', modestly conipare^'"'|
Christ. So true is it that which hath been shall be, and still, an :it|
1850.1
Ministry in Newcastle.
n
loljort Hull's day, ' mice ' — nay miccliiigs — will nibble at tho wings of
archangels."
Throughout this letter, of which less than the half
fias beau quoted, mingled indignatiou aud humour
have free course. There is at least as much fun as
fury in it, and there can be little doubt that it was •
iwritten with a keen relish of the task. But con-
troversy, grave or gay, was not his chief employ-
lent. Even in stormy times, " man," for the most
rt," goetli forth unto his work and to his labour until
Ihi evening," and tln-ough this period of agitation
\letliodist preachers went the round of their circuits,
|)reaclied in town and country, met classes, visited
the sick, and ministered " each in the order of his
:;oarse," Punshon among the rest. He soon l)egan
to feel at home in what he called " our princely
Brunswick chapel," and rejoiced in some success,
[e had at once great influence with the young
})eople, his genial friendly ways co-operating with his
jreat popularity to draw them round him.
One of these writes in after years : —
" I first knew Mr. Punshon in Newcastlo-on-Tyne, when, immediatul y
Bfter his marriage, he came to that circuit. Ho never knew what power
|f"r !,'(ioound up with thia great cauttl
that there in a goodly fellowHhip of U8 who have Hworn never to deHortiil
I have been thinking of what I could Hay that might worthily occupy tlii|
few momentH allotted to me. I could not discover what it was tluil
prompted my invitation hero except thiH, that it might be a mutual ainil
gloriouH benefit, — the young instructed by the experience and coiiusel oil
the aged, and Imply the aged cheered by the buoyancy and entbu8ia.r the reception at the meeting, though it wiw warm ; hut that after the
liiit'itin^' the old doctor — the great lion— t'\c veritable Jaiikz BiNTiNt;
llidbbled across the committee room for ! l' express purpose of shaking
pands with me, and telling me that it gave him pleasure to see and
Puiir me there.
'■ Fiincy the change from Exeter Hall to Peasenhall down in the wilds
of Suffolk, beyond the limits of the twopenny post, when I began the
ais-sionary sermon with /««/• people, and the collectif the catalogue, for his reputation is becoming world-wide), and
W. H. I'ope, ,ind Perks, and J. H. James, and Wiseman, and Uigg, and
l^ichani Rolterts, aud Gregory, Colcy, Tyerman, dervase Smith. Vasey,
Hartley. (Jranswick, E. J. Robin.son, and M'CuUagh, last, not least. It is
[wortii living to be lussociated with such men in the gre.at work of saving
.Ills. I ;un more and more jHjrsiiaded of the high destiny of our beloved
I Methodism. If she be brt faithful to her original mission to 'spread
scriptural holiness through the land,' she may be one of the first to catch
the significant fore-tokens of the Saviour's approach."
Two characteristics of the writer which only
I strengthened as time went on are observable in
this letter, — his loyalty to Methodism, and his
admiriug love for his brethren in the ministry. Not
that lie was blind to the defects and limitations of
Methodism, but they were as nothing to him com-
pared with the glory that pertained to it as an
eviingelical Church, sound in doctrine, practically
cflicieut in discipline, and rich in spiritual life.
94
tV. MORLBY PUNSHON.
[chap. IV.
Happily free from the right-hand and left-hand
errors of sacerdotalism and rationalism, true in the
main to its great calling as the servant and
witness of Christ, — he regarded it as chosen and
honoured among the Churches of Christendom,
alike in the work assigned to it by the head of
the Church, and in the blessing that crowned its
testimony. He knew its history, and was imbued
with its best traditions. He understood its genius,
and was in sympathy with its spirit and general
tendencies. It gave him adequate sphere for a
life-service in the cause of Christ, and thus satisfied
him mentally and spiritually. Notwithstanding the
poetic vein in his nature, Mr. Punshon's mind was
essentially practical. Speculative difficulties and
sentimental objections went for very little with
him as against experience and practical proof,
Hence his devotion to Methodism was untroubled,
and he could speak and act in her behalf iu a
whole-hearted way.
His love for his brethren has rarely been equalled.
As he rose in public esteem, and was eagerly sought
after from many sides, his regard even for the
obscurest men in the ministry seemed to become
only the more tender and considerate. He re-
membered names and faces, he knew where nearly
every man was stationed, he had something like
personal acquaintance with each. He delighted
in the gifts, the accomplishments, the successes
of other men. He welcomed every sign of promise
among the younger ministers, and was ready, with
swift appreciation, to recognise and encourage their
progress in anything that was good. His capacity
1 885.]
LAST YEAR AT SHEFFIELD.
95
of love and admiration was that of a generous
nature. If it was possible to think well of a man,
I lie did so. In any case, he spoke evil of none. '
The last year of his ministry in Sheffield was
loue of ceaseless activity. His list of engagements
bears witness t*" the varied claims that were now
made upon his time and strength. In addition to
his ordinary ministerial duties he greatly assisted
iMr. Methley, his Superintendent, in large financial
aud administrative schemes to relieve the em-
barrassed chapel- trusts. These efforts culminated
lin a bazaar, by which the sum of XI, 270 was
raised, — an amount, in those days, unprecedented
and all but unhoped-for. Anniversary Services,
Missionary Meetings, Lectures follow in quick
I succession. His journeyings, though not yet on
the scale of later years, were swift and frequent.
One week he is preaching in Sheffield on Sunday
and Monday, at Keighley on Tuesday, at Penrith
on Wednesday, at Carlisle on Thursday. Another
week sees him in Sheffield, Gloucester, Cardiff,
I Chepstow, Stroud, and Bristol.
During the year he ^asited some fifty different
[towns in England and Wales, and preached for
Itlie first time in Ireland. With the exception of
Ian attack of bronchitis which laid him aside for
a fortnight in the winter, his health continued
good, save for a certain nerve-strain of which ho
Ibegan to be conscious.
In February 1855 he spoke at the Annual Meeting
lof the Young Men's Christian Association in Exeter
iHall. The Hall was crammed. He writes to
hh. M'Cullagh: —
96
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. IV.
" I was introduced to the Hon, Arthur Kinnaird, Binney, George Smith,
and others. Lord Shaftesbury was pleased to characterise my address is
one of ' prodigious power,' but intimated that there was just a danger lesi,
in seeking for the elegant phrase, I should overlay the sturdy thought."
At the Conference of 1855 liis ministiy in Sheffield
terminaterl. It had been an eminently happy ami
successful one. There was an increase of more than
two hundred members in the Society. Debts had
been paid off, and difliculties of various kiuds
surmounted. It had been proved to himself and to
others that it was possible to combine an effective
ministry in his own circuit with a kind of second
ministry through the Connexion at large. Tlie
applause that greeted him as a lecturer took nothins!
from the eagerness with which the people flocked
to hear him preach the gospel. He met classes
and held prayer-meetings with earnestness aud
unction, and no joy with which his prosperous
course was crowned equalled the joy that was
given to him in the conversion of souls.
Before going to Conference he found time for
a short but " glorious " Highland trip, accompanied
by his wife. He writes : —
" I never was more impre.ssed with personal littleness than in the niwem quite out of the world. The walk to Leeds is dismally drearj'
pd long. The house is a good, commmlious, venerable affair."
98
Pf^. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. V,
To THE Rev. T. M'Cullacjh.
" Lkkph, Janunrji \2th, IR'it;.
" All hail ! and a happy new year to you and youi-s. May you k I
crowned with every now covenant blessing. . . . The first draft is prottv
well completed for next year. It is rather odd that such men a*
Macdonald, Illingworth, Rigg, Newstead, and others are not engaged,
have done nothing towards the biography, and see no prospect for some I
time. I shall have to give up this itinerancy-run-mad if I am to tur.
author. I go to Newcastle on Monday, Carlisle Tuesday, Peiiriti
Wednesday, Hexham Thursday, and on the 21st to Belfast.
" Loraine has gone to Blackburn, to supply for Xattrass, who is ill
If you want a student at any time, ask for Cockill, and tell me how h: I
gets on. He promises well."
On 21st January Mr. Punshou crossed frc
Fleetwood to Belfast, and the following eveniug liel
lectured in the Victoria Hall. The lecture m|
entitled Science and Literature in Belation
Beligion. This is by far the most ambitious title I
borne by any of his lectures. Not unnaturally, ill
was his earliest. In its conception it belongs uo liij
boyish days, and in the actual form it assumed it toI
the work of his first years in the ministry. His ideal
was to show that there is no real antagonism betweeL
science and religion, and that the connection betweeEl
religion and literature is one to which the latter iif
deeply indebted. Under the former head it caunoil
be said that he had anything new to bring forward
He had no such acquaintance with science as tj
qualify him for independent handling of his siitj
ject, or for a searching criticism of scientific uubelieil
To this lie made no pretence. But there wertl
common misconceptions that he could remove ; m
if his replies to infidel objections were not veijl
original, they were, to say the least, good enoUj^i
for the objections dealt with, and for the objector
1856.] "SCIENCE, LITERATURE, AND RELIGIONr 99
who catch tliem up so lightly, and pass them on
with so much confidence.
The Deluge, the six days of Creation, the Mosaic
chrouology, the sun standing still upon Gibeon,
were some of the matters on which he gave a
popuhir answer to popular objections. Question and
answer alike are now out of date. The attack and
the defence of thirty years ago are antiquated, as,
if we may judge from the past, those of our own
time will be a generation hence. The rapid super-
aunuation that prevails within the sphere of this
controversy is very striking, and is itself an evidence
of the truth of revealed religion that should not be
overlooked. The important fact at each stage of
the long conflict is not that the defence was inade-
quate, but that the attack was unsuccessful. If the
perfect Apologia has not yet been produced, neither
has the successful assault on Christianity yet been
made ; and, meanwhile, it holds on its way, greater
thau those who defend, and stronger than those who
assail it.
The latter part of Mr. Punshon's lecture is that
in which he moves most freely. To one who loved
poetry as he did it was a genial task to dilate upon
the poetry of the Bible, and to show how light from
the oracles of God had been caught and reflected
in the noblest verse of many ages. Here his great
gifts of delivery availed him, and the hearer who
might not be altogether persuaded by his reasonings
was alternately awed, moved, and melted by the
perfect recitation of passages from Shakespeare and
Mnton, from Byron, Scott, and Keats.
With regard to the more argumentative portions
100
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. V
of the lecture, it should be remembered that they
were not set forth in prosaic bareness, nor was the
hearer allowed to listen to tliem in cold blood,
They were cast in rhetorical form, tlie burnislied
sentences being built up one upon another in a series
of ascents that drew the hearer along with thorn to
the inevitable climax.
It was the first time Mr. Punshon had lectured
in Belfast, but he was already known as a preaclier.
and his reputation as a lecturer had gone before liim.
The Victoria Hall was crowded in every part. The
newspapers next day gave a long list of ministers
and notable persons who were present, beginning
wivli Dr. Cooke, Dr. Morgan, and Dr. M'Cosh, and
concluding with a Mr. Gregory M. Wortabet of
Beyrout, and Elijah Seelaby of Samaria ! He began
with a modest apology for addressing sucli an
audience on such a theme. He came as a youu^;
man to address young men : —
'' An opinion is abroad in the earth, whicli has been received in soni'
«iuarters as conclusive, that science and religion are opposing principle?
antagonist powers ; that, as if they could not breathe the same atnii>-
sphere, the one instinctively flies at the approach of the otlicr ; and that
it is impossible for a man who is deeply learned in this world's wisdom to j
be equallj' conversant with the wisdom which is of God. From this vitw
of the subject, infidels, ever on the watch to tarnish the fair fame of |
Christianity, have been eager to deduce that the Cospel is a system
of superstition and ignorance, unworthy the attention of an intelli<,'eiii
being. We believe, and will endeavour to show, that between the subject* |
in question there exists no natural or necessary opposition. By religior
we mean Christianity, and by Christianity the system of revealed trutl I
contained in the Holy Scriptures ; and we think that to this gloriou*
revelation of the mind and will of God the whole circle of the science
affords no ground of rational objection ; nay, that science is never so |
exalted as when submissive to religion, and that literature as her hand-
maid, setting forth the transcript of her spirit, shines with a lustre not I
her own."
1856.1 "SCrE.YCE, r.nERArURF., AND REUGTONr 101
This was the thome ou which for nearly two hours
lie addressed the vast audience. The professors were
as spell-bound as the young men and maidens,
Presbyterian divines as enthusiastic as Methodist
"ireachers. As he drew to the end the people
listened as they listen to the application of a
powerful sermon, or to the closing stanzas of
ii heart-moving song.
'■ Terniinate in j'our own experience the sad divorce which has too often
ixisted between intellect and piety. There is in our perverted nature a
strong tendency to the indulgence of scepticism. The very craving of the
miiul after knowledge, if unsanctified. will of itself increase it. Be it
your case to be determined and decided here. Take your stand, firm,
daur.tless, unswerving, by the altar of God, and from the altar let neither
riiliiule nor sophistry e.\pel you. Learn to distinguish between clear facts
iuul clever fancies. Along with the sentiment which rejoices in the beauti-
ful, keep the good old sterling Haxon common sense which follows hard
lifter the true. Let your convictions be so strong that you are not
frii,'htened to declare them. Never let the .seorner's laugh — that very
iiiirniless thing — make you blush because of your profession of religion,
or make you ashamed of having pious parents and a godly home. Let
your faith rest, with a giant's strength, with a child's confidence, with a
iiKirtyrs i,'rip, upon the immutable truth as it is in .Tesus. Young men I
I Christian young men ! soldiers of the Cross I you are called to the moral
lattletield. All honour to the heroes of Alma and Inkermann ! Much as
I we detest war, fervently as we pray for honourable and lasting peace, the
lilonil will rush the fleeter through the veins, and the cheek will glow with
linvoluiitary ardour, as we think of deeds that vie with Spartan fortitude and
JKoman fame, liut in the commoner battlefields of life there are bloodier
IHiikeluvas. In the daily walks of being, in cottage homes, in the marts of
lliusiness, in sequestered nooks, in the streets of smoky mammon- worship-
Iping towns, tliere are moral battles, patient resistance of evil, struggles
jwitli whelming legions of infidelity and sin, of which the world wotteth not,
Ihut which shall be ixgistered ou high, and recompensed with palms and
|trowns. Be you of the number of these unostentatious but valiant
heroes ; so shall you raise up for your country, in thw thick-evented
future, her surest defence and truest glory — more impregnable far than
111' iiiunon which crest her coasts, or than thrf ocean which kisses her
ilii'it— a rampart of sanctified and immortal mind.
" Tlic world seems just now to be in a state of transition. Its revolu-
102
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAI'. V.
tioii mill itH rcstloMHtiOHH, tho iiphciiviil of did Htnitii, tlu* siiiit'iiiidnctiiin if
nuw orderH of tliin^^H, tliu passion and the cliiuioiir and i\w. ( -arnagt', ai>
tlif stiunge enilHxlimontH of tbiH tuinie transition. You In'tiold it ovirv
wlnTC, burning its footprints into northern snows, hreatliing lioiilthily
nmit\, ISilC). — I have wished for some time to tninscribe my
Bciting feelings on religious experience, but various reasons have hitherto
iterred me. To-night, by the help of God, I make a beginning. The
);iii(l meeting has been a blessed one. I have felt well, because humbled.
riiere iire many of the simple people here who are my teachers in the
lliiiigs of God, and I willingly sit at their feet. . . . Everything is dis-
pmraging in the Circuit, — piety loose and fitful, removals many, the spirit
prayer deadened., a decrease in numbers this quarter. These things
^eigh me down. Oh for the tongue of fire ! I tremble at the responsi
^ilities of the morrow.
" iun' 2itli. — The Sabbath was upon the whole a good day. Some
Inners were convinced of sin. This is my chief est delight, to bring
io6
JV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. v.
Hiniiers to CJod. Little Fanny ill. In faithftiliirHH Thou hast attiicted,
O Lord ! Teach me the full meaning of these words.
" Julji 'MI. — The record of the past few days nuist he a record of
mercy. My dear wife gave birth to a .son on Sunday morning, and u
doing well. I have had great anxiety on this matter, but God !:,«
rebuked my boding fears. . . . The day is sadly too short for the work
to be done in it. I seem as if I accomplished nothing. I feel scnsiUv
the loss I have sustained in not cultivating the habits of a close and
systematic student.
" Jitlji Hth. — Harassed with various anxieties during the last few day«:
wife not so well — two children ill — self oppressed with solicitude ami
pain. But it is ' CJod which performeth all things for me.' A hlesiied
band-meeting, a laborious but happy Sabl)ath, an ui)lifting sacrament,
and some power to stay myself on Ood. "Wherefore should I complain:
The balance is on the side of mercy even according to human reckoning.
"./m/^ 21.s7. — Suffered much from the heat yesterday, but had on the
whole a good day. M. . found peace at night. I feel greatly intercsuJ
in the Bible-class, and am rejoiced when, as in this instance, any of them
are made happy in God. Much led out in prayer for poor William Dove.
who was found guilty on Saturday evening and sentenced to death.
And this man's is my nature. ' There, but for the grace of God, goesulJ
John Bradford.' I
"Jw/y 28///. — The last has been a very solemn week. The pocr
condemned murderer sent for me to visit him in hia cell. I felt an (
awful responsibility, apart from the mere natural shrinking, whicli \vi<
sufficiently painful, but I cast myself on the Lord. ... In the farof I
futui-e, if I am spared to see it, this man's case will be a study (tie
pathology of the human heart) ; at present all minor questions w |
absorbed in the gain or loss of the soul.
'^August Hth. — The Lord has mercifully brought mo homo in s;ifelj|
after a thousand miles of travelling in ten days in Wales and Ireland
Thanks heartfelt and continual for all His mercies. Why is my liean
so callous? Why is my life so unspiritual? I mourn, go softly, anc |
am disciuicted in bitterness of soul.
" A «//((.s< 2GtIi. — During the week at Si'arborough. Prevailing deadnesj
relieved by occasional cjuickenings from on high. ... I would ofta
gladly change all my notoriety for the calm seclusion of God's little one) j
who are never troubled with doubts of His favor r.
*' October IXth. — Not much improvement — listless, easily swayed M
temptation. Startled and shocked to think that I have been eightftDJ
years a professor of religion, and have made so little progress. Loni.|
help! But for a consciousness that I do sincerely desire to be iiiii''l
my frailty and sin, and to havi> all righteousness brought in, T sbouHl
despair.
iS570
EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL.
io7
-Orliihn- ]Xlli. — A somewhat Ixsttcr week. Some sweet luid holy
meditations, some power to rest on Ood. Pleasnre in eongenial and
iitVfctionate s(M:iety. Two very admirable l{il)le-nieetiMgs, in whieh I
liavc lifi'n |)rivik'
been called in. My faith almost failed last night, but I threw myseif
under the shadow of the mercy-seat, and after great agony of flesh mi \
spirit I feel to-day comparatively calm. Mrs. Musgrave gone to brl
reward, and good old Mr. Lynch. My dear friend Mr. Squance is noi I
the only survivor of Dr. Coke's missionary band.
" Ma>j 29th. — What day more fitting to renew and to record my core- 1
nant ! By the good providence of God I have completed my thirty-fcurtt |
yeivr, and have had as lengthened an earthly probation as sufficed for tit
whole incarnate work of the Redeemer. Alas ! in the review of thepHJ
how fruitful of evil, how barren of good ! My first duty this morniei|
which with a full heart I performed, was solemnly and formally to pii[
my vows unto the Lord. The past has been a year of unexampkl
sorrow — I never knew trouble until now ; but it ha.s also been a year oil
great grace. I keep this birthday with a wife's sickness and a cMil
f imeral ; for dear little Walter wa^ suddenly released from earth ajif
sufEcrinf; on Thursday morning. ... A vei'y flattering critique upon mtl
in the Pulpit Observer, — noticed here simply to record how miserable siial
small vanities appear when one great sorrow fills the struggling spir.|
Lord, let Thy mercy be upon me according as I hope in Thee.
" June 21th. — Nothing worse in my dear object of solicitude, but rerl
slow progress towards recovery. Very much comforted by thoughts of I
passage in St. James, ' Behold ! we count them happy which endure, \\
have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the eiul of the Lord,tlii;|
He is very pitiful, and of tender mercy.' . . . Dr. Bunting, a prince a):|
a great man, gone to his eternal reward full of honours as of years.'
During their residence in Leeds two sons wkI
born to Mr. and Mrs. Punshon, Percy in June 18*|
and Walter in August 1857. From the birtli
the hitter, who died when only eight months oli|
Mrs. Punshon' s health was never really good,
before long symptoms of consumption began to slioil
themselves. There were periods of improvement aii|
again of decline, giving rise to alternate hopes aij
fears in the heart of her husband. These lind <\
1857-1
CEASELESS LABOURS.
Ill
pression in the journal, but as time passed on hope
diminished, and fear deepened to a distress that all
but overwhelmed him. But still the round of un-
ceasing labour was maintained. On Sundays he
seldom failed to preach in his own Circuit, and Oxford-
Place, Hanover-Place, and Headingley Chapels were
crowded with eager hearers. On week-days he flew
ill ever-widening circles through the country, preach-
ing, addi-essing missionp.ry meetings, and delivering
lectures. In 1856 he visited ninety different towns,
and in the following year upwards of eighty. The
claims upon him were now almost innumerable ; and
to the full measure of his strength, if not beyond it,
he responded to them. A fairly representative week's
work includes two sermons in Leeds on Sunday
and a speech on Monday, a missionary meeting in
Staffordshire on Tuesday, a lecture in South Wales
on Wednesday, and two sermons on Thursday,
another in Bristol on Friday, and on Saturday
travelling home to prepare for similar labours the
week following. Nor does the bare statement of
journeys made and sermons preached reveal the
whole case. Each service was, in many senses of
the word, a ** special " one. Locally it had been
matter of expectation for weeks, perhaps for months,
lu the great towns no buildings were large enough to
liold all who wished to hear him. Exeter Hall, the
Town Hall, Birmingham, the Free Trade Hall, Man-
chester, St. George's Hall, Bradford, were tilled to
jtheir utmost capacity. Into spacious chapels like
hose of Hull and Lincoln, of Plymouth and Penzance,
eat-holders were admitted by private entrance before
he doors were opened to the rush of the general
112
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. V.
public. In country places shops would be closed
earlier than usual, and the whole district would wear
an air of holiday as the " people streamed in from the
outlying villages. There was an excitement awakened
by his coming to a neighbourhood that could not but
re-act upon himself. It strung him to high efforts. It
wrought upon his emotions, and stimulated his powers
to the utmost. It was in the pulpit that he felt most
deeply, that his spiritual nature was most profoundly
moved and drawn upon ; but it was on the platform
that the physical and nervous strain was at its
highest. Moreover, the tension at which he worked
was seldom, if ever, relaxed. Many a man called to
great public labours has a quiet sphere at home to
which he can retreat, and where he cannot be pur-
sued ; and, in simple ministerings to a little flock, the
spirit that has been strained and worn by the duties
of a prominent position, or an exacting oflS.ce, may he
calmed and restored. But it was part of the sacritice
accompanying his life-work that there was little of
this for him. To meet high-pitched expectation
without disappointing it, to be always equal to him-
self, — this is the necessity laid upon the popular
preacher, and upon no preacher of the last generation
did it press with greater weight and constancy than l
upon William Morley Punshon.
In February 1857 he delivered his second Exeter
Hall lecture, that on Bujiyan. The only reference
to it in his journal is, " My lecture in Londou.
though it prostrated my strength, was delivered
with freedom and power by the help of God.
All our troubles are worse in anticipation than in|
reality."
•■\S7-1
EFFECT UPON THE A UDIENCE.
'"Better than my boding fears
To me Thou oft hast proved.'"
113
These words give no hint of the impression pro-
duced by this lecture, an impression difficult to
describe, and still more difficult for those who never
heard him to understand. For immediate e£fect
upon the audience it may be said with truth that
it has seldom been equalled, and never surpassed.
The vast audience, if not critical or fastidious,
was fairly representative of the intelligence of the
Churches, and included an unusual proportion of
persons, accustomed to hear the most eminent
speakers of the day. There were three thousand
people present. The lecture occupied more than
an hour and a half in the delivery, during which
he never once looked at the few notes he held in
his hand, or hesitated for a word. Mr. M'Cullagh
, says : —
"He spoke with his usual captivating elocution, and with immense
I nergy and force. Feeling amongst the audience grew ; enthusiasm was
I awakened, and gathered force as he went on. At last, at one of his
[magnificent climaxes, the vast concourse of people sprang tumultuously
1 to their feet. Hats and handkerchiefs were waved ; sticks and umbrellas
[were used in frantic pounding of the floor ; hands, feet, and voices were
I united in swelling the acclamations. Some shouted ' Bravo ! ' some
['Hurrah ! ' some ' Hallelujah ! ' and others ' Glory be to God ! ' Such a
Itornado of applause as swept through Exeter Hall, and swelled from floor
ItOLciling, I have never witnessed before or since."
Those who can recall scenes like that depicted
ILy Mr. M'Cullagh have often asked themselves the
pcret of the spell ; while such as have only heard or
read of the effect produced by Mr. Punshon on his
wdiences may well inquire by what kind of mastery
le moved them in quick succession to laughter and
8
114
W. MORLKY PUNSHON.
[fHAI'.V.
to tears, to breathless awe and wild excitement. One
thing may be taken as certain — though it be but a
truism when stated — that there was , an adequate
cause for such extraordinary results. In the sphere
of oratory, as elsewhere, effects without causes are
not to be thought of. Whitefield's sermons and
Fox's speeches may leave us puzzled to account for I
their influence over the mob at Moorfields in the one I
case, and the patriots and placemen at Westminster |
in the other ; but if there is nothing in what lia>
come down to us that will explain it, we may be sure I
that there were qualities physical, mental, moral
accompanying their presence and belonging to tbeii
personality that would furnish the explanation. Tlitl
time is fast coming when the tradition of Mr. Pi
shon's eloquence will set those who read his lectures |
asking, " What is there here, what was there thati>
not here, to account for the impression produced oil
those who heard him ? " To this question somethiiijl
like an answer must be attempted, although siiclil
explanations are proverbially diflBcult to give. i|
recent biographer of Charles James Fox says of h
" There is an insuperable difficulty in setting fortil
the secret of his oratorical greatness." The historian:!
of Methodism relate that when Dr. Adam Clarbl
was asked for a description ol' Samuel Bradburiiil
eloquence he replied, " I have never heard his equal
I can furnish you with no adequate idea of his power«|
as an orator. Another Bradburn must be createiij
and you must hear him for yourself, before you caii
receive a satisfactory answer to your inquiry." Tlij
secret of William Morley Punshon's eloquence ijj
not much easier to describe than that of the oratonl
i»57-]
OUTIJNK OF LKCrURK.
H5
above named; but failure to do so will be lightly
judged when incurred in such good company.
To what extent, then, does the lecture on John
Bnnyan explain or justify the language of Mr.
M'CulIagh, and of others, as to its surpassing
effect when delivered?
The following is a bare outline of the subject as
treated : —
" Certain periods of history are characterised by special vitality and
vigour.
'■ Suth waH the PiinUin era ; an age of great erentu and of great men.
" Jliiin facts of Bunyan's history rehearsed. Youth, conversion,
imprisonment, release, death.
" BiNYAN considered ax a Writek. Eulogy on the Pilgrim's Progrens.
A plea for the consecration of intellectual power to the service of
I religion.
"Bunyan's lotjaUii to the WoRn or Gdix Authority of Scripture
asserted against the scepticism of the day. Revision of the Authorised
i Version is deprecated.
•BiNVAN«.s' a Prkaciikr. The mission of the pulpit. A command-
iiig ministry one great want of the times.
"Bunyan's //(oro?/,7// IminanneHK a source of jimoer. The discipline of
I trial. The power of sympathy and love. The new crusade.
Bunyan a Confessor for thk Truth. The young man's call in
I our day.
■' The watcher of the night. The vision of the dawn.''
As an outline this calls for little remark. There
lis no special originahty, or striking fehcity of plan ;
liior is there obvious want of either. An expert
R'oiild probably say of it, *' Everything depends upon
jits working out. There is nothing here to ensure
success, or to prevent it. All things are possible,
bm leaden dulness to the highest originality and
power."
A frame or skeleton like this bears the same
delation to the finished composition that the naked
ii6
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. V,
stem and leafless boughs of winter bear to the ample
foliage and clustering fruit of summer. We must
see it '* clothed upon " before we can judge the good
or evil husbandry.
Turning then to the discourse itself, it must be
admitted that its narrative portions show no inde-
pendent research, that its criticism is not marked
by special insight, and that the lessons enforced
are familiar even to triteness. So far as ideas are
concerned we are kept well within accustomed Hmits.
The channel is buoyed, and our landmarks are never
out of sight.
Nevertheless, there is originahty from first to
last. Both the general conception and the details
by which the whole result is secured, are deterruiued
by certain instincts or primary qualities of the
writer's mind. We use the word " writer," and
can hardly do otherwise, seeing that the lecture was
written before it was delivered, and by subsequent
publication has taken permanent literary form ; but
it is the production not of a writer but of an orator.
The inspiration that moves, the ideal that presides,
is not that of literature, but of eloquence ; tk
structure, the succession, the rhythm of the sen-
tences show that they were meant to be beard,
not read.
The orator may borrow the tools of literature,
but he uses them in the interests of oratory. It is
not denied that a man may possess both gifts, tlie
oratorio and the literary ; but that they are distinct,
with a certain tendency to mutual antagouisui.
will be generally admitted. The exceptions to this
are hardly more than sufficient to prove the rule.
m
immmmm^^sm
i^^lHHIH
•857-]
LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE.
117
Where the literary worker, bending at his desk,
sees beforehand his reader, silent, solitary, book in
haud, the orator, as he prepares his speech, has
visions of the great audience ; he sees the upturned
faces, he feels the answering throb, he hears the
thunders of applause. This vision controls him; it
goverus stylo and diction, argument, illustration,
cverytliiiig. The writer, though he may hope for
iunuinerable readers, writes for tliem, as it were,
siiij^ly and separately, and speaks to them one at
a time. This is precisely what the orator does not.
To him individuals are nothing. It is with numbers
that lie deals, with numbers warmed and quickened,
if possible, by that genial sense of kinship which
makes a thousand pulses beat like one.
It is needless to say to which of the two classes
thus broadly distinguished Mr. Punshon belonged.
By temperament and cast of mind he was an orator.
Within the chambers of his heart and brain invisible
audiences assembled, were dismissed, and came
together again continually. They were with him as
jhe read, and thought, and wrote. For them his
ideas as they rose took rhetorical form, and clothed
themselves in language ornate and rhythmical. By
the law alike of his intellectual and of his emotional
nature tlie movement from impression to expression
nvas swift and instinctive. As the youthful poet
[could only say when scolded for his rhyming,
" father, pray some pity take,
And I will no more verses make,"
ISO tlie master-tendency in Morley Punshon carried
hiin irresistibly toward flowing sentences and high-
i built paragraphs. However artificial his method
i8
IV. MORLKY PUNS //ON.
[< IIAI'.V,
ini^lit Jippoar, Imwevor olaborato liis stylo, thoy wcro
natural in tlin triieHt sense of the word, for they
sprang from the essential characteristics of \m
mental constitution. It was so from the lirst.
If lie did not exactly "lisp in numbers," yet lik
earliest compositions show the feeling for language
that marked him to the last. His boyish efforts
contain the promise of all he ever accomplished in
the way of public speech.
The lecture on Bunyan is an oration, not an essay,
As the eye rests upon what was prepared for tlie
ear, it is like reading the report of a groat speecli,
or looking over a speaker's manuscript instead of
listening to his voice.
It will be seen, however, on examination, to be
constructed with consummate skill to secure im-
mediate and telling result. Without delay, yet \vitli
no undue haste, the way into the subject is led
by a few reflections on history, its pathetic and
its noble aspects, and we are brought into the
seventeenth century, and into the presence of|
John Bunyan. There is no attempt to invest the
familiar and the commonplace with sham dignity, but
they are not allowed to drag, or spoil the processioii
of the sentences. Where the narrative is at its
least heroic level it is still bright, swift-movind
attractive, the sentences neither involved nor abrupt.
always intelligible, often revealing an unexpected
fehcity of phrase or epithet, or harmonious balance |
of clauses. I
Sometimes by rapid change of key, more frequently
by gradual elevation, the ascent is made to a loftier]
and more impassioned strain. It is in these ascents
18.S7-1
POWER OF CUM AX.
'19
wliother rising only to halt'-wfty lieiglits, or Hweepiug
upwards to somo siipronio climax, tliat Punshon was
most liinisolf, that tlio cliaractoristics of liia style
,111(1 method found intensest expression.
Tliose climaxes can bo traced in most of his
scnnoiis and lectures. The calmest reader will find
hiiiisi'lf drawu into a current whose speed continually
increases; there is a movement of quickened tiiought
and heightened feeling that hurries him along ; the
language grows bolder, more impassioned, more
patlietic, until at last it culminates in some para-
,<,fnipli whose subtle modulations "long drawn out"
leave music in the ear and emotion in the heart.
Something of this will be felt in the following
extract. Bunyan is in prison : —
"Ami now it is niglitfall. Thoy havo hjul thoir evening worship, iiml,
iisiii iinotiier dimgeon, ' the prisoners heard them.' The blind child receives
tilt' fatlieily lieiiediction. The last good-niglit is said to the dear ones,
;uiil IJuiiyan is alone. His pen is in his hand, and his Bible on the tivblo.
A solitary lump relieves the darkness. But there is fire in his eye, and
theiu is j)assion in his soul. ' He writes as if joy did make him write.'
He has felt all the fulness of bis story. The pen moves too slowly for
till' rush of feeling as ho graves his own heart upon the page. There is
liciitiii;^' over him a storm of inspiration ; great thoughts are striking on his
liiMiii ami thisliing all his cheek. Cloudy and shapeless in their earliest
rise within his mind, they darken into the gigantic, or brighten into the
liLiuitifiil, until at length he flings them into bold and burning words.
Ho is in a dungeon no longer. He is in the palace Beautiful, with its
siglits of renown and songs of melody, with its virgins of comeliness and
iif discretion, and with its windows opening for the first kiss of the sun.
His soul swells beyond the measure of its cell. It is not a rude lamp
t!iat glimmers on his table. It is no longer the dark Ouse that rolls its
sluggish waters at bis feet. His spirit has no sense of bondage. No iron
lias entered into his soul. Cliainlcss and swift, he has soared to the
l>electal)le Mountains; the light of heaven is around him; the river is
ilio one. clear as crystal, which flowetb from the throne of God and of
thf Lamb ; breezes of Paradise blow freshly across it, fanning his temples
mill stirring his hair. From the summit of the hill Clear he catches rarer
tio
11^. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAI". V,
splendours — the new .Jerusalem sleeps in its eternal noon ; the shining
ones are there, each one a crowneil harper unto Cod ; this is the land that
is afar off, and that is the King in His beauty ; until, prostrate beneiith
the insufferable splendour, the dreamer falls upon his knees and 8ol]<
away his agony of gladness in an ecstasy of prayer and praise."
After an earnest appeal to young men " to cast
out of themselves the false, and the selfish, and the
defiling, and to be sincere workers for the glory of
God and for the benefit of men," he closed with u
dream vision of " the diviner future which shall yet
burst on this ransomed world " : —
" Wearily have the years passed, I know : wearily to the palo watcher
on the hill who has been so long gazing for the daybreak ; wearily to tlu
anxious multitudes who have been waiting for his tidings below. Often
has the cry gone up through the darkness, ' Watcher, what of the night r
and often has the disappointing answer come, ' It is night still ; here iht
stars are clear above me, l)ut they shine afar, and yonder the clouds lowtr
heavily, and the sad night winds blow.' Hut the time shall come, mul
perhaps sooner than we look for it, when the countenance of that pile
watcher shall gather into intenser expectancy, and w'aeu the challeiigi;
shall be given with the hopefulness of a nearer vision, 'Watcher, whit of
the night ? ' and the answer comos, ' The darkness is not so denso as ii
was ; there are faint streaks on the horizon ; mist is in the valleys, hut
there is radiance on the distant hills. It comes nearer — that promise of
the day. The clouds roll rapidly away, and they are fringed with amber
and gold. It is— it is, the blest sunlight that I feel around me-
MOKNING ! '
" II is moniini/ ! And in the light of that morning thousamls of
earnest eyes flash with renewed brightness, for they have longed for tht
coming of the day. And in the light of that morning things that nestle
in dust and darkness flee away. Morning for the toil-worn artisan I for
oppression and avarice and gaunt famine are gone, and there is social
night no more. Morning for the meek-eyed student ! for doubt has
fled, and sophistry is silenced, and the clouds of error are lif tcif,e 01 t"- . '\. "'- ■^'-pveral gentlemen urged me to dissuade
him from going to Caml nuge next day to preach, as they thought restwa.*
essential after such a tremendous effort. After supper he and I chatted
into the small hours. He told me that he composed the lecture while
walking in his study at Leeds, and tossing a penny from his thumb, ivhicli
he caught as it fell. He wrote the whole of it on his memory first, and
then sat down and put it on paper, word for word. At last he asked.
' What o'clock is it, Mac V ' Quoting from the peroration of the lecture.
I answered, ' It's morning ! it's morning ! ' He laughed, and said, 'I did
not expect so speedy an application of my own words to my own case.
Next day he went to Cambridge, and fulfilled his — I believe — first en-
gagement in that university town.''
The following are extracts from letters to Mr,
Hirst written about this time : —
•' Lekds, Fehrmmj \(>tli, 185".
" I can give you Tuesday, March 31st (D.V.), if you will promise not to
work me too hard, for I start on my Cornish Deputation on the Tliursday
after, and shall need to husband all my strength. They have sold two
thousand tickets for my lecture here to-morrow. I have to give it in tbc
Free Trade Hall, Manchester, Tcviot Dale, Stockport, and perhaps M
George's Hall, Bradford. I wish the next three weeks were over. Pwr
M. H, ! I have been condemned that in all our intercourse I spoke so
i«5r]
r.ECTURKS IN AfANCrrESTER.
127
little of Josus, though I aui thankful that I was pcimitted to wain and
counsel her, though not so much as I ought to have done."
"Lekijs, .V«rcAGM, 1857.
" I charge five guineas for a lecture ; I preach ' without money and
w-itliout price.' Have your choice. The physical strain of a lecture is so
great that I have been obliged to lay down this rule. Moreover, I could
not preach in the afternoon and lecture at night. I have no objection to
do what you think best on these terms. If I lecture, one service and
a charge. If I preach, two services, and nought but my expenses and
your love."
Ou the day that Mr. Piinshon gave his lecture
in Manchester, a letter appeared in the Manchester
Examiner, signed "A True Lover of Bunyan," in
which the lecturer's presumption and wickedness
iu venturing to take such a theme were vigorously
denounced.
" Mr. Punshon may prove a very popular lecturer, or he may not — on
that point opinions may vary ; but I do most strongly protect ag!iipr,tl»ir.
Puushon, or any other Wesleyan Confereiice preacher, making capital out
of good John Bunyan. What principles have Wesleyan preachers in
common with Bunyan ? I answer fearlessly, none. In their little way,
they make despotic laws independently of their people, execute them
tyrannically, and persecute to the extent of Lheir powers all their members
who, hke John Bunyan, resist them. Imagine, Sir, the Archbishop of
Canterbury lecturing on Cromwell, or Cardinal Wiseman lecturing on
Martin Luther ! What a monstrous anomaly that would be ! I think
Mr. Punshon equally out of place, and I feel bound to warn the Christian
public of ]\Ianchester against such strange inconsistencies."
But the Christian public refused the warning, and
so great was the rush into the Free Trade Hall that,
when the doors were opened, a minister who was in
the crowd was carried bodily up into the gallery
without ever putting a foot upon the stairs.
CHAPTER VI.
1858— 1859.
LONDON, BA YS WATER. Aged 34 to 35.
Appointed to the Hinde Street Circuit. — Work at Bayswater.— Mr,
Arthur's Recollections. — Memories of Mr. Punshon and his Colleagues at
Hinde Street, by " //«'c >itemiimne jurat." — Death of his wife. — Lecture:
The Huf/uenotH. — Raises £1,000 for Spitalfields Chapel. — The Confer-
ence at Manchester : Debate on the Bayswater Case. — Devotional Sleeting
at the Free Trade Hall.
At the Conference of 1858 Mr. Punshon's term of
ministry in Leeds expired. He had accepted an
invitation to succeed Mr. M'Cullagh at Bow in the
"Third London," or Spitalfields, Circuit. But as
the time for removal drew near, the state of Mrs.
Punshon's health was such as to make a residence at
Bow undesirable. It was felt on all sides that some
other arrajigement must be made, such as would pro-
vide at once an adequate sphere of labour for him and
a suitable place of residence for his invalid wife.
Various suggestions were made, and the matter was
finally settled by his appointment to the Hinde Street
Circuit, to reside at Bayswater, and take charge of
the chapel in Denbigh Koad, then newly erected.
The following letter from Mr. Edward Corderoy, of
the Lambeth Circuit, a layman of large heart aud
1858.]
THE HINDE STREET CIRCUIT.
129
keen intelligence, although written a year before
Mr. Punslion removed to London, may be inserted
here : —
"J(/n« 13liurclimaii who often Irani
him, ' is his setting-forth of the doctrine of the atonement ; ' and hIhiiii
the same time as this observation was made by a man of scholastic culturt,
a peasant fi'om the north, after describing to jne his congregation, adddl
' Eh, but he was powerful on the blood.'
" His amplificiition, at some times laboured, was generally rich in ji ven
high degree. Not unfreqnently it was gorgeous, sometimes trcnionduiis,
and occasionally pathetic to a point at whi(;h an undefined and siuiden
thrill pas-sed through the audience jls through a single frame. Somecf
hia hearers at Denbigh Road do not forget to this day the moment when,
after having enlarged on the compaasioii of our glorified High Priest for
His tempted and downcast followers, he suddenly subdued his tone, ai
with a note of strange sympathy and tenderness repeated the work
' touched with thfi feehng of our infirmities.' So vividly does the ukuioit I
of that moment even now continue, that when in any cares or paiiis tluj
look up for help to our ascended Lord, that word ' tuiirluil ' as then utted
seems to breathe over their spirits like a balm.
"In the case of Dr. Punshon, more than in that of any other miiii^uT |
I ever knew, one subsecjuently found more spiritual fruit of his .seriiwa"
than at the time of their delivery the apparent impression on the congre
gation would have led one to expect. That impression seemed often to
partake more largely of literary charm or of oratorical ascendency than of
soul-converting power. But the proof came after many days. Mr. Hull ,
one of the oldest and ablest ministers in the Irish Conference, said to me |
many months ago, ' In every Circuit of mine which he has visited, preack
ing occasional sermons, I have afterwards found his spii'itual children, and
that is more than I can say of any other of those very popular men who aiv [
celebrated for occasional sermons.' To this testimony I shall ouly i
that in my own course I have very often met with his children in tie I
gospel both on this side of the Atlantic and the other. Indeed, of son-!'
the gospel it has often seemed to me as if the Lord bad granted U) l^M
is.sf-l
WORK A T HA YSWA TF.R.
'3.?
I'linsliiiii II liir^ia' portion tliiiii uvtii tu niiiiiy wliosr repute tiH winners uf
Minis was not iiiipliciitod with any fiiino for intolluctuiil hrilliiincy. ThoHo
Mins of IiIh in tli<- ministry aro in (yinnits at hoinu, and in Htutions in
Ciiimila, tho United StateH, and tliu MiKsion-fioId,
'• III connection with hiH friMjnont ahsencn from his own Circuit, which
his occasional HtTvices in all parts of tiio country involved, one feature
iilwiiys struck uio as jxjculiar. With many men, when Huch absences
' frequent they render them almost useless for the affairs of tho
..cuit (lurinf^ tho little time they may happen to spend in it. Some-
liow it was not ho with him ; he never lost tho thread of home affairs,
(ir .sicnuil to overlook small details. lie moved with so much s{)eod
ami (i(K:itr}
where the class met ; and in the afternoons I dived down the cellar-step*
which were the only approach to the schoolroom. During the mornin.' I
service I kept watch over restless scholars in that wonderful upper gallory
to which we of the Sunday School were relegated,— honourable bani-l
ment to giddy heights— where the voice of the preacher and the resixm-r I
1858.]
MEMORIES OF IIINDE STREE'I.
^IS
of the people came up in gusts and snatches of which they who worshipped
on lower levels know nothing. But it was the evening service, teaclier's
(iutios and all pious police functions discharged for the day, — it was the
eveniii" service that brought the crown of all joys and blessings, when tlie
ploughshare cut its deepest and the good seed fell into the good ground,
when the showers descended and the rain also filled the pools,"
" There were many of us young people to whom it was a joyous spring-
time. The dew of our youth was upon us. The ' years that bring the
inevitable yoke ' were yet to come. The first delight of Christian life had
not spent itself. In the work, the worship, the fellowship of the Church
there was a freshness, a charm not to be described. And that dull, un-
lovely chapel was hearth and altar at once, the place where light and heat
converged, .md whence again they flowed out on many sides.
'•For our ministers we had great love and unbounded admiration.
There was little disposition among us to set one off against another ; and,
indeed, there was no such inequality in respect of their pulpit powers as
to encourage invidious comparisons. No four men who were entirely
one in their aims and convictions could di:Ter more widely in style, and
in tl'eir modes of presenting truth ; but the ministry of each seemed
to sustain and complete that of the others, and anything like ' I am of
Paul, and I of ApoUos ' on the part of their hearers would have been no
les,s foohsh than unworthy. I do not presume to give a formal criticism,
I am only recalling my youthful memories, when I say that whether it
were Mr. Macdonald in the pulpit or Mr. Llewellyn, Mr. Punshon or Mr.
(Jreeves, we looked up and were fed, we came hungry and went away
satisfied. Mr. Macdonald was then some fifty-thi'ee or four years of age,
with the manners and appearance of genial authority, manly alike in
thought and mode of utterance. He had lost, I suppose, some of the fire
and brightness of his earUer style, but to us he appeared the very mod-ol
of middle-aged ripeness, strong, well-balanced, full of broad sympathies
and clear common sense. His noble voice and somewhat stately elocution
impressed us greatly, and if his didactic strain was occasionally heavy,
it was rescued and relieved by the felicity of his illustrations, and the
skill with which he introduced a not too frequent anecdote. Mr. Llewellyn
was perhaps more unequal than his colleagues, the difference between his
good times' and his bad ones being more marked. He was always
earnest and affectionate, and when his spirit was fairly aglow his im-
passioned appeals, full of solemnity and tenderness, seemed as though
they must carry everything before them. Some of us thought that he
especially excelled in addressing the young. If the junior minister of
the four, who was still in his probation, had appeared to disadvantage
among such colleagues it would have been but natural, and in no way a
Iiroof of inferiority. But in the case of Mr. Frederic Greeves this was
not so. It wfis almost impossible to ])elieve that he was a young preacher
136
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. VI.
In knowledge, experience, style, delivery, he was far beyond his years.
He might have been preaching all his life. Young he was in zest and
buoyancy of spirit, and perhaps in certain literary tendencies and sus-
ceptibilities, but mature in all else. His sermons combined fulness of
matter, clearness of arrangement, and a finished style. He also excelled
as a reader and a speaker. Our standard of elocution at Hinde Street in
those days was a high one. If under Mr. Macdonald, Mr. Punshon, and
Mr. Greeves we became somewhat exacting in this matter, who shall
blame us ?
" So far as popularity was concerned, Mr. Punshon greatly distanced all
the rest. When it was his turn to preach at Hinde Street, we had to be
there betimes to gain admission. On a Sunday evening the crowd would
begin to gather upon the chapel steps an hour before the time for service.
By the time the doors were opened there was a compact mass of people in
waiting, and sometimes a painful crush before they streamed freely into
the aisles or trooped up the gallery stairs. Soon every pew wius filled,
and every coign of vantage occupied. When the preacher came out of
the vestry it was often necessary to clear the pulpit steps of those who had
taken possession of them, in order to allow him to pass. After a while,
and not without difficulty, all were in their places ; there was a general
settling down, and perfect stillness as he gave out the first lines of the
opening hymn. The congregations included all sorts and conditions of
men. There were Methodists from various parts of London and from
the country, religious people of all denominations, sight-seers, novelty-
hunters, critics, wise men and simpletons of every degree. Sometimes the
face of a well-known public character would be seen — actor, statesman, or
Church dignitary. Men of the world would smile to meet each other in
a place so unlikely as a Methodist chapel. His reading of the Scriptures
never failed to fix the attention of the hearers. As he engaged in prayer
with increasing freedom and fervour, responses would be heard, now
singly, then in growing fulness and volume, while here and there an un-
accustomed visitor would look round, half-amused, half-puzzled, to see
what it meant, perhaps wishing himself well out of it. By-and-bye came
the sermon. How well I remember his texts : — ' Are not Abana and
Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel ? may
I not wash in them and be clean ? ' ' Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise
from the dead ; ' ' Whom have I in heaven but Thee ? ' ' He being dead
yet speaketh,' and many more.
" After the text was announced there was a kind of subdued rustling as
of preparation and expectancy, a final adjustment of bodily and mental
faculties, and then a silence that could be felt. At intervals of perhaps
ten minutes there were breathing spaces, when, at the close of a division
or period, the spellbound hearers had a brief release, and there was a
movement, almost a murmur, through the congregation as of pent-up
i85?-l
MEMORIES OF HTNDR STREET.
^^1
emotion set free. There was a discharge of long-restraiued coughs, a
general drawing of breath and changing of position, until, after the short
pause, the tension was renewed as the hearers passed again under the
dominion of the preacher and his theme.
•' There was undoubtedly in Mr. Punshon that kind of power which
from its effect upon the sensibilities and emotions of a congregation has
been called ' magnetic,' but his ministry at Hinde Street possessed a power
above and beyond that of mere eloquence. He preached with ' power from
on high,' that power by which souls are awakened, convinced of sin, and
brought from death unto life. There were times when the congregation
seemed overshadowed by the presence of the Lord, when the most careless
were moved with awe, and Christian hearts were filled with the sweet and
strong consolations of God. His yearning desire to bring sinners to Christ
was in itself very affecting. To some of us it was a new revelation of the
urgency and tenderness of the gos^jel itself. It seemed to say, ' God is
my record how greatly I long after you all in the bowels of Jesus Christ.'
In the prayer-meetings that often followed the evening service, his appeals
would reach their climax of persuasiveness and affectionate entreaty.
Nothing touched him more deeply than the presence of humble, sorrowful
souls seeking the Lord. I have seen him pass from one to another,
whispering words of counsel and direction, or offering short and earnest
prayers, his face wet with tears and radiant with holy joy. At those
never-to-be-forgotten times of blessing there was nothing of the masterful
or self-confident in him, no self-assertion in his way of dealing with
inquirers, but deep humili<^y and reverence, a tender sympathy with souls,
and great simplicity of faith towards God. We who were young at
Hinde Street in the days of which I have been speaking were, perhaps,
first drawn to IMr. Punshon by the eloquence of his ministry ; but the
strongest and most enduring influence he exercised upon us was due to
qualities in that ministry still higher and more precious. There were
i those among us who ' owed to him their own selves also.' "
It will be remembered tbat Mr. Punshon had
accepted an invitation to become one of the ministers
of the Spitalfields Circuit, and that this arrangement
had been set aside on the ground of his wife's state
of health. This could not but be a great disappoint-
ment, as there were special circumstances in the
case which made the loss of his services a very
serious one. The chapels throughout the Circuit
were burdened with debt. The case of Spitalfields
138
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. VI.
Chapel was aggravated by the fact that there were
only three surviving trustees, and that of tliese
only one, and he a man of limited means and non-
resident, was willing to act. The congregation,
which at one time was large and flourishing, was
greatly reduced in numbers and resources. The in-
come of the chapel was inadequate to the expenditure,
and it was impossible to create a new trust, as persons
could not be found to undertake the heavy responsi-
bilities involved. In these very difficult circum-
stances the Rev. Robert Inglis, Superintendent of
the Circuit, received permission from the Conference
to solicit help throughout the Connexion, and he
toiled bravely at his uphill task. The prospect of
Mr. Punshon's help made the matter look more
hopeful, and when it was found that it could not be
had, the disappointment was proportionately severe.
It says much for the good feeling of those concerned
that they relinquished their claim upon him, "not
grudgingly nor of necessity," but in a generous
manner. Mr. Punshon was touched by the con-
siderate kindness of his friends in the east of
London, and determined to give them all the assist-
ance in his power. With this object in view he
prepared a lecture, by which he hoped to raise a
considerable sum for the relief of the sorely burdened
Circuit. The subject of the lecture was determined
by the history of the Spitalfields Chapel. It was
originally a French church, built for and used by the
Protestant refugees who were driven from France by
the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. In 1819 it |
was purchased by the Methodists. Mr. Punshon s
imagination was pleasantly kindled by this bleiitliiii;
1858.]
LECTURE: ''THE HUGUENOTSr
139
of Huguenot and Methodist associations, and his
lecture The Hiigtienots was the result.
He threw himself heartily into the studies wliich
the subject required. The lecture gives evidence of
cousiderable reading. It is longer, more elaborate,
aud contains a larger body of historic fact and
biographic detail, than any of his previous lectures.
Its literary quality is higher, though it is still an
oration, not an essay. Perhaps the portraiture of the
chief personages of the story — Coligny, Catherine de
Medicis, Antoine de Bourbon, and Henry of Navarre —
is the most striking characteristic. In these word-
painted portraits many thought him at his best. In
devoting his lecture on the Huguenots to the relief of
the old Spitalfields Chapel Mr. Punshon did not offer
that which cost him nothing. It was prepared in the
iutervals of frequent journeys, and amidst the great
labours of his first months in London. It was begun
ill the most distressing days of his wife's illness, and
finished during the dark and lonely weeks that
followed her death. For the hope that had been
revived by their removal to London was soon cast
down by the appearance of worse symptoms, and the
rapid progress of disease.
Journal.
^^Spjitemhfr 11 th, 1858. —My experience has been very varied during
the last two months. I have been often weiglied down with anxiety and
overmuch sorrow, and sometimes, for 1 would not be ungrateful, exalted
with favour, and enriched with blessing. My dearest wife, the loved
object of so much solicitude, still continues weak and poorly. By the
providence of God we had a very happy Conference, and I have passed
through all the partings from attached friends, and am in my new sphere
of labour, living in an airy, open situation. I feel much about my
tntnince upon ministerial life in London, l)ut God is all-sufficient, and I
will try to trust Him for all.
140
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap, VI.
" Octohcv 2n(l.— I dare not liavo traiiscribctl my fetsliugs during the jiasi
ten days, I have l)een so racked with distrust, alarm, and anguisii. ily
wife still very poorly. Mamma (Mrs. Vickers) quite confined to bed, and
insensible. It is a long, dark night ; surely the Lord in His merciful
goodness will make the morning come by-and-bye.
" October 6th. — Yesterday we committed dear mamma to the grave. So
one of our sufferers has languished into endless day. She was seized with
paralysis on Sunday, and rapidly sank away. Thus the links to earth
loosen. I dread the effect upon Maria of this new sorrow. I am striving
for calm and patient trust, hopefully to believe that God will perform Hi.<
Word unto His servant, upon which He hath caused me to hope.
" Ortobfr 2'Sr(l. — God has graciously preserved mo in journeyings, and
I have returned in safety after one thousand three hundred miles' travel
in Scotland, but alas ! only to find my dearest wife visibly worse, and a
very gloomy prognosis from the doctor respecting the future. He seems
to consider her case well-nigh hopeless. Ts it indeed to be so ? Has ;i
lying spirit been suffered to deceive me, or have I l)een allowed tomistaki
the wishes of my own heart for whispers from on high V It would seem
that, in all human probability, she cannot recover, and my home is to 1*
desolate, and my heart wrung, not only with the bitterness of death, but
with disappointed hope, and trust, jjcrhaps unwarranted, proved to k
presumption.
" October 30///. — One or two seasons of deep heathen sorrow. I am tr}-
ing for perfect resignation, praying for it, hoping to attain it, and do feel
a measure of power to trust God with 'ill. But I dare not brood over mj
circumstances or I should be unmanned. I want more personal liolines.s.
" November 3rd. — The dear sufferer is visibly wasting, and, I fear, sink-
ing into the grave. This is indeed a bitterness, deep, prostrating, terrible.
Oh ! to see the wife of my youth going down to death, to watch the woful
sufferings, and to be unable to help . . . but the Lord has promised to
sustain.
" Noreinbcr Gth. — The doctor has now pronounced my wife's case abso-
lutely hopeless, and she has become so rapidly worse that the fatal issut
cannot be long delayed. She is calmly and happily resigned, and in her
patient trust exemplifies the perfect power of godliness. This is indeed
strong consolation under a trouble otherwise overwhelming.
^^ November 0th. — Had a very precious Sabbath communion wiih mv
dying wife. Felt very near heaven, and had strong consolation drafted |
into ray soul. On the whole I am enabled to trust in God.
" Norember 12th.— The stroke has fallen. My precious Maria languished I
into life on the lOth of this dreary November at a (juarter past four in the
afternoon. Her death was painless. Sudden f aintness seized her. ' This
must be death,' she said. ' Going, going to glory ! ' and in ten minutes At
was immortal, ' no more to groan, no more to die.' For her the change |
I859-]
JOURNAL.
HI
is glorious, but for me, .alas ! for me ! . . . For myself the future is dark,
unknown, fathomless ; but he that walketh in darkness must stay himself
upon his God.
" Xorciiiher VMIi. — This day I have committed my precious dust to its
resting-place. . . . T have consecrated myself afresh to the great work
to wliich God has called me. My darling children are very interesting
and affectionate. God gives me comfort in them amid my grief and
trouble.
"7>(r/rtAfr 4//*.— Have this night arrived at home after three weeks'
sojourn in Devonshire and in Sheffield. Though I have had 'tears to
drink in great measure,' I have had abundant consolation in the precious
promises, of which sympathising friends have reminded mc, and in my
own approaches to the throne of grace. I have felt inexpressibly in first
preaching the gospel of God since my loss, but my determinations are
strong for the Saviour and His service, and I pray that out of this seven-
fold-heated furnace I may emerge into a mightier and more successful
ministry. . . . My dear little Fanny's birthday. Lord, sanctify her sweet
disposition by Thy Holy Spirit.
'' Drromhor'llth. — Still in infirm health, harassed by returns of an old
and very depressing pain. It seems my lot still to suffer. I cannot read
God's purposes, but can trust that they are wise and kind. Greater sense
of my loss yesterday, or rather on Sat\irday, than I have felt before. The
first Cliristraas Day without my precious Maria. Everything seems to
remind me of my sorrow.
".A/?iu«n/ 8///, 1859. — The services of the Watch-night and the
Covenant were both blessed to my soul, though during the former I was
in considerable pain. A very exciting service in St. James's Hall on
Sunday evening. It is no small privilege to declare the truth to some
three thousand people at once. May God keep me faithful ! ' Hold Thou
me up, and I shall be safe ; draw me, and I will run after Thee.'
^'Januiirji \i)t1i. — Sickness still in our family circle; children ailing,
Fanny V. weakly and delicate, and Jane, our servant, confined to bed
with what seems to be the beginning of a serious illness. The pride and
worldliness are not trampled out yet. Lord ! in judgment, remember
mercy.
'^ Fehrmirji 1th. — Again a sufferer ; intense pain in the face, and boils.
Wish I could feel less impatient under the strokes of the chastising hand.
Unable to do my work to-night, got through yesterday with great
I ditficulty.
"Fehruuri/ 12th. — Better able to work again, and very thankful to be so
I engaged. Some sense of loneliness cheered by remembrances of my
kloved's happiness in the better world, and of my own usefulness here.
liiiished my lecture on ' The Huguenots,' prayed earnestly in the train
lu-day that it might be a blessing to thousands, and no snare to mc."
142
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. VI.
The lecture, prepared during the darkest weeks of
his life, bears no trace of the shadows that hung so
heavily upon him. There is nothing morbid in the
sentiment, no falling away from the healthy, hopeful
strain of his teaching. It is probable, indeed, that
the labour of composition brought relief, that in the
selecting and grouping of materials, in shaping his
periods and giving finish to his sketches, he found
respite from his sorrow : —
*' For the unquiet heart and brain
A use in measured language lies ;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain."
It was delivered on Friday, February 18th, 1859,
in the old chapel at Spitalfields, a place consecrated
by Huguenot traditions. The building was crowded
to its utmost capacity, and when, after nearly two
hours of unbroken sway over the audience, he
resumed his seat, it was felt that the reputation
established by his previous lectures, The Prophet of
Horeb, and John Bunyan, was carried to a higher
level, and placed upon a still surer basis.
Perhaps, when the hearers had recovered from
what many called the enchantment of the time, and
recalled the brilliant or moving passages by which
they had been borne along, his recitation of
Macaulay's Ivry, and the portrait of Catheriue
de Medicis, stood out above all else. Through the
clanging stanzas of the former they heard the diims
and tramplings of the battle, the thunder of the cap-
tains and the shouting ; while as they looked upcii
the latter a chill seemed to fall upon the audience,
and freeze all hearts with abhorrence and dread.
1859-]
CATHERINE DE MEDIC IS.
143
PoUTKAIT OI' CaTIIEUINK I)K MkDICIS.
" Remorseless without cruelty, and sensual without passion — a diplo-
nuitist witliout principle, and a dreamer without faith — a wife without
alleetion, and a mother without feeling — wo look in vain for her parallel.
See her in her oratory ! Devouter Catholic never told his beads. See
her in the cabinet of Rugf{ieri the astrologer ! Never glared fiercer eye
into Elflands glamour and mystery ; never were philtre and potion (alas !
uot all for healing) mixed with firmer hand. See her in the council-
room ! Royal caprice yielded to her commanding will ; soldiers faltered
beneath her glance who never blenched at flashing steel ; and hoary-
lieiuled statesmen, who had made politics their study, confessed that she
outmatched them in her cool and crafty wisdom. See her in disaster !
More {ihilosophical resignation never mastered suffering ; braver heroism
never bared its breast to storm. Strange contradictions are presented by
her which the uninitiated cannot possibly unravel. Power was her early
iuul her lifelong idol, but when within her grasp she let it pass away,
enamoured rather of the intrigue than of tho possession ; a mighty
huntress, who flung the game in largess to her followers, finding her own
royal satisfaction in the excitement of the chase. Of scanty sensibilities,
ami without natural affection, there were times when she laboured to
make young lives happy — episodes in her romantic life during -.vliich tho
woman's nature leaped into the day. Toiling constantly for the advance-
ment of her sons, she shed no tear at their departure, and sat intriguing
in her cabinet, while an old blind bishop and two aged domestics were the
only mourners who followed her son Francis to the tomb. Sceptical
enough to disbelieve in immortality, she was prudent enough to provide,
a.-i she imagined, for any contingency ; hence she had her penances to
purchase heaven, and her magic to propitiate holi. Queenly in her
bearing, she graced the masque or revel, smiling in cosmetics and
jieii'umes ; but Vicenza daggers glittered in her boudoir, and she culled
lor those who crossed her schemes flowers of exquisite fragrance, whose
wlour was death. Such was Catherine de Medicis, the sceptred sorceress
of Italia's land, for whom there beats no pulse of tenderness, around
whose name no clinging memories throng, on whom we gaze with a sort
of constrained and awful admiration, as upon an embodiment of power,
but ix)wer cold, crafty, passionless, cruel — the power of tho serpent,
wliich cannot fail to leave impressions on the mind, but impressions of
basihsk eye, and iron fang, and deadly grip, and poisonous trail."
J(JUUNAL.
'■ Fehmvi/ 19//i. — Delivered my lecture to a very crowded house in old
I Spitaltields last evening. Very much exhausted at the close, but amply
I repaid by the feeling elicited and displayed. Wept bitter tears, though,
I I trust, without repining, as I thought that one who would have listened
144
IV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. VI.
lovingly ' was not.' My Mnnih-fountain Heemed openeil afresh. My
preciouH wife ! Oh ! may I live for the heaven to whose wealth she has
contributed. I pray that I may be strengthened in the delivery of this
lecture, and saved from elation of spirit through the often undeserved
applause of those who hear me."
During the next two months the lecture was
re-delivered to large and eager audiences in London,
Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, Bristol, and
elsewhere. Three days after its delivery at Spital-
fields he gave it in Hinde Street Chapel, a week
later in Belfast, two days afterwards in Liverpool,
and the following week in St. James's Hall, London.
Lord Shaftesbury was in the chair, there were three
thousand three hundred persons present, and the net
proceeds exceeded .£200.
It was a memorable occasion, memorable even
among many similar triumphs. The audience was
by no means limited to Methodists, or to Noncon-
formists. It included persons of nearly every rank
and class, but fused by a common enthusiasm. The
rigid features of the chairman relaxed, and on his
usually immobile countenance were seen the signs
of strong emotion. At the close, when the whirl-
wind 01 applause had died away, an anti- climax was
forthcoming. A letter was handed to Mr. Punshon
in the committee-room from an Essex clergyman, and
was something to this effect : —
" That the writer understood that the gentleman he addressed was a
public lecturer ; that they wanted a lecture at the Mechanics' Institute in
his village, and wished him to come ; that he did not know his fee, but if
he would come and lecture, he could promise him that his travelling
expenses should be paid, and that they would find 1 im a bed at the
'Swan.'"
The exertion involved in these efforts was very
great. They did not take the place of his ordinar)'
I
1859- 1
nniX(7 TOO Mucif.
>45
The
bis
signs
wliirl-
and
d wasa
litutein
, but if
avelling
at the
very
linar}'
eiigaf^omenta. but were in addition to them. The
week iiftei' lecturing at St. James's Hall he preached
twice in London, once in Manchester, twice at
Bri(l;,'ewater, lectured in Plymouth and Bristol, and
spoke in St. James's Hall at a meeting of the Young
Men's Christian Association. The following week,
besides preacliing in London and Nottingham, he
lectured on three successive evenings at Sheffield,
York, and Leeds.
The excessive strain began to tell on mind and
body, but there was no relaxing.
"March 21th. — Another week of journeyings, and of high excite-
ment. . . . Feci poorly in body ; convinced that I am doing too much,
but miiui for the most part calm. Felt deeply on the occasion of my
first public visit to Leeds, and the sight of some old friends was almost
overwhelming. Fear lest the active should leave no room for the con-
templative. I want to dwell more in thoughts of holiness and God.
'• Ajiril 2)ul. — Much perturbed this week by bringing up with cough-
mg a small quantity of blood. Felt alarmed when I considered the
multitude of engagements which I have yet on hand, and anxious, if it be
(lod's will, to work yet longer in His service. Feel convinced that I have
been doing too much. The physical and mental strain has been continuous
;md intense, and added to the sorrows of my lot, and the anxieties
which I cannot tell the world, they have almost worn me down. May
f ftod'H pniscnce and
power in tho ChurclioM in ii vory reniiirkable niii'iner. A niiilnight iiiw.t-
inj^ hold on l^hiirHday was attended by two hun< rod and fifty of tlio pn^r
fallen f^irlH of Rcj^ent Street and the Ilayniaricet, twenty-fivc! of wlinm
wiHluid to go into Asylums.
" Afarch \7th. — Shocked and startled on Sabbath morning by thi; news
of the sudden death of dear Mr. Corderoy of High Street, our foremost
man in this Circuit, struck down almost in a moment while enj,'iige(l in
business at Woolwich. How awfully admonitory to us who remain 1 For
him a glorious change."
Lktter to Rev, R. Ridoill.
''March 17 th, 18C0.
" I don't know how much you know of me, so tliat I may tell yon
news which is no news ; but this letter, so long delayed, is now fairly
started, and must be finished to-night, for each day seems to bring its own
' tale ' of work, and the hours are all too short. You have heard, I gather
from your letter, that I have been deeply stricken, and that I mouru tin
wife of ray youth. It is a passage in my history on which I do not cm
to dwell, for I have to remember sore struggles for resignation, and many
seasons of deep, heathenish sorrow. To her the change m as glorious ; I
could not ha\ - wished an easier or a happier deathbed. You told me in
your last that you rejoiced over me with trembling. Just listen to wbt
I have had to hum})le me. For the three years previous to my wife>
death I never had the doctor out of my house ; for the last six years I
have not been out of mourning. I have had to suffer my share of family
troubles, in some cases to mourn over misconduct. Father-in-law,
mother-in-law, grandfather. Uncle Henry, several other uncles, aunts, anl
cousins, and, in my own home, my wife and two children, have been taken
from me. The waves have rolled over a stranded heart sometimes. Bnt
I praise God notwithstanding, and did praise Him even in my depth. I
am never sanguine about my own experience, but my desires are after
God, and I can truly say I am spoiled for any other service. I think,
moreover, that He has shown me the proper worth of men's applause.
I have passed through a novitiate of popularity, sensible of but little
elation, I dare not say of none, and longing always to retain my rlii
affectionateness. I would a thousand times rather be loved than admired.
My wife's sister is with me, and will remain, God willing. I have four
little ones — Fanny Morley, the eldest, and my only girl, a dehcate creature
who has not outgrown her croup tendencies yet, though she is nine years
old. She is sharp, lively, intelligent, old-fashioned. My eldest boy, Johii
William Vickers, is at boarding-school, and I heard from his master on
Wednesday that he has just begun Greek. He is a wonderful arithme-
tician, and has every sort of sense but oopiinon sense, and I hope that will
1 860.1
JOUR NAT..
150
l)u ^'ivi'ii hy-aiul-byt'. Morloy is a (•iirly-huiuk'd, liiuKlHonic, iiffootioiiato
liid, wlioso (l(iveloj)mcnt is rumiirkably slow, porhapH tho Huror for that,
Imt hitherto lie lia.s not wliown hiiiisulf brilliant. The youngest, Porey
Ilenrv. is 'i f'"^'. urch, intelligent, nelf-willtMl hul, as ho says, 'half and a
three years ohl.' I am blessed in my children, and their affectionate and
winning ways have often recalled me from my sorrows.
" I have more to do than T know how to accomplish. For the last three
yi-ars I have averaged 14,()00 miles a year in my evangelistic journeys,
and am toiling hard to bring souls to Christ, and then to Methodism, as
the purest and best administration of truth and gotlly discipline that I
know. We are a few of us, young men, rising into influence in the Con-
nexion. We have some grand men among us, — Arthur, fac'dt jirincepH in
most things, Gregory, Gervaae Smith, Coley, Roberts, Rigg (for writing),
M. C. OslKirn, Fred Greeves, Tweddle, Sharr, Bush, G. S. Rowe,
Piggott, John Moore, Workman, .Tosiah and Theo. Pearson, — all these
among the younger men are men of mark in their way. We have
the Conference in London this year. Opinion is much divided about
the Presidency. Some think Stamp will get it ; Hoole, Osborn, Thornton,
Rattenbury, Prest, Macdonald, all are named. I suppose you know I sit
on the platform as one of the Conference letter-writers, and have tho
Financial Secretaryship of the London District, and, what I like better, the
Secretaryship to the Committee for the examination of candidates for tho
ministry. Altogether, but that I want more grace, I am very well contented
with my lot, and hope to live and die a brotherly Methodist preacher.
'■ Do you write verse now ? I have no time for anything but making
sermons. Isn't it like me to write on these fragments of paper, and those
upside down ? Well, the heart is right after all, and it beats very
tindevly for my old friend. God bless you, dear Hardric, and your wife
and bairns."
Journal.
"J/a»c7t 2itli. — Di.squieted a little by the persevering republication
of my sermons, some that I would fain withdraw from circulation.
Much encouraged by an increase of seventy-seven in the Circuit this
quarter, and ninety-two on trial. This is the highest good.
" Ajji-il nth. — Poor George Gaskell, of Leeds, suddenly snatched away,
just my age. Father Chappell gathered also home. Lord, teach me to
live in habitual preparation.
" April 2Hth. — Much shocked and grieved by the case of my dear friend
Tweddle, who was severely injured by a railway accident on Monday.
"hat ami that, through extensive journeyings, I should have been so
long pre.served ! All the household ill with colds and coughs, induced by
this very trying weather.
"3%'2tJ^/(.— No improvement^ in my dear little girl, who coughs almost
s«o
/r. MORLKY PUNSHON.
\S\\\\\ VII.
incoHsantly. Surely tho Lord 'v^ not about again to open tho family f»rave.
Oil, if it l)t! posHihle, Fiord, spare my 'one little owe lamb.' Striviiiir f^r
the HubmisHion that Hhall be neither presutn])tioii nor distruHt, but timl
it hard to bo realised, (iod of all grace, help, help, or I perish ! What a
hard heart mine must be that I cannot i)e truHted with happinLSH, lest
I should, like Jeshurun, ' wax fat, and kick,'
" May 'I'Jtfi. — God has mercifully spared mo to complete my thirty-
sixth year. My look back to-day has been a very regretful one. I am
deeply humbled that my life has been so very unworthy. But T have
renewed my covenant. God helping mo, I will be tho Lord's. 1 rencwid
it with my early waking thoughts. I renewed it in the train as I came
up from Lincoln, and I have renewed it this evening solemnly, as I stooi
upon the turf which wraps my ' precious clay' in Kensal Green Cometery.
May God strengthen mo to keep my vows !
" June IGth. — Depressed and sad. It seems as though rny life were tobea
life of struggle for submission to God's will, a constant round of wear)ing
and irritating trial. Fanny Vickers and little Fanny both sorely coui,'h
ing. My sister's cough almost inces.sant. How vile I must be when sn
much affliction is needed to keep me humble. Lord, give mo the victor)':
My anxieties are sometimes so consuming that if I am not dolivered
from them, or enabled to rise above them, I shall die. Thou canst help,
O Lord, and Thou alone.
" August ith. — Still engaged at Conference, and necessarily much
absorbed with its manifold business, though not without upliftiiigs nf
heart towards heaven. Renewed my old grief by a visit to Kensul (iretii
to-night, in company with my friends Smith and Wilson ; but comforteil
again by tho thought of the guarded rest in which my dear one lies. "
The side of Mr. Pimshon's life whicli is revealed
in these extracts from his journal was wholly un-
known to the multitudes whom he addressed, week
after week, in all parts of the country. A few
intimate friends were aware of his private sorrows
and anxieties. But the spiritual conflicts to whicli
they gave rise, the deep depression, the self-
reproach, the sense of loneliness and helplessness
that returned again and again, — these were hidden
even from them. Still less could the general public
imagine at what cost to himself, with what inner
distresses and sinkings of heart, he was doing lii^
1 860.1
DKPKKSSIO.V AND CONFLICT.
i6l
work. To all outward appearance his course was
one of unbroken popularity and honour. Judged by
the crowds that flocked to hoar him, by the tributes
of the press and tlie favour of the people at large, by
the power with which, in the pulpit and on the plat-
form, ho swayed the hearts of tens of thousands, and,
above all, judged by the results of his ministry among
his own flock and elsewhere, nothing seemed wanting
to the happiness of his life. But there was ample
oounterpoise of suffering to keep the balance. At no
period of his life was he wholly free from the discipline
of paiu, and it would seem as though it kept pace, to
say the least, with the increase of his honours and suc-
cesses. Physical languor, the reaction from excessive
toil, nervous fears, sharp attacks of painful ailments,
uever-ceasing anxieties concerning his children, an
almost too complete sympathy with the troubles of
others, the oft re-opened wound of his bereavement,
and a certain tendency to, perhaps, morbid introspec-
tion, — all these together made the "thorn " which kept
him from bemg exalted above measure. There are
deeper notes of distress in his journal than any recorded
here ; but enough will appear in this record of his life to
show that he was not exempted from that general law
which makes sacrifice and suffering tha conditions of
victory. "The servant is not greater than his Lord."
The Conference over, Mr. Punshon took a much-
I needed holiday at Llandudno, and then, returning to
Bayswater, entered on his third and last year in the
Hinde Street Circuit.
"IfiCO, September Is/.—
jdear old Norfolk Street,
Journal.
On Sabbath the 12th, while preaching in
I was distressed by bringing up a small
11
1 62
IV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[fHAP, vii.
quantity of blood. The prospect of enforced silence at first was ven
hard to bear, but I found some power to stay myself upon God. The
last fortnight has been spent at Llandudno in company witli dear ones anii
loving friends, and I hope I am the better for it. Spiritually, 1 have liai!
much to mourn over. A spirit of petulance, murmuring, and rebellion
has at times possessed me, for which I grieve before God.
" Septfinhfv Hth. — My throat not yet right. Somewhat concerned aboiit
it. Greatly tried with myself in consequence of my hasty temper ami
inconsiderate words. Need to keep a constant guard upon my tongv-;,
Lord, help me to hold my mouth as with a bridle.
^'' Septein/m' 15th. — Poor Alderman Richardson, of Leeds, dead. How
many have I heard of lately who have been called away. Lord, give nji.
a thankful and prepared heart.
" Octoliir 'l\)th. — Much encouraged by one or two testimonies of useful-
ness in my ministry. I do feel this as my highest earthly honour, and I
trust, I hmij after souls in somovvliat, but oh ! how far removed from, the
spirit of Jesus Christ.
" Norenihev 'dnl. — A week of some suffering. Was seized on Sunday with
the same sharp, stabbing pain in my back whieli has before troubled me, and
during the week have suffered from rheumatism and dyspepsia considerably.
" Novemhf.r lOf/i. — Elien ! me mi-Heruni.. Yet no; it does not Ixicome me
to say so, though I write on my life's saddest anniversary. Two years of
widowhood have rolled over me. My precious wife has been two years
in heaven. Felt softened and contrite on first waking this morning, an!
trust I have T)ecn enabled afresh to consecrate myself to the God Who ha.*
done so much for me. Thus I would try, though 'tis hard work, to make
the best of my sorrowful observance of times and seasons.
'^November 17 th. — -Much profited at a meeting at tho Mission House t"
bid farewell to several missionaries. It was a good school to me. Jlav
God perpetuate the memory."*
'^ Decern her 22nd. — A blessed service on Sabbath night. Seven, I trust.
decided for Christ. Decided to recommend the division of the Circuit.
Bayswater to be the head of the new one. I am very thankful for this,
and would record it to the glory of that grace which has enabled me to
minister, with any success, the Avord of eternal life.
" December 'l\)th. — I have much material for praise this week, and some
for humbling. Christmas Day was a happy day to me. I felt my licirt
thrill with gratitude for Advent blessings, and longed to be more worth;
of Him Who has redeemed me. An excellent quarterly meeting. A m-
* The missionaries referred to were James Calvert, who after eight«e»
years of labour in Fiji was about to spend another five years there ; mi
Thomas Champness, who was leaving England for Abbeokuta in We«U"
Africa.
i86i.l
LKCrrRK: "DANIEL IN BABYLONr
'63
spirit tliniughont. 'I'liu flivisioti agroud to without a dissentient voice.
1 thank my God through Jesus Christ that I have not laboured in vaiti.
Do:U' Fanny's health is a per[)etual trial to me. I wish I could resign her
into tlu' loving hands which will do with her and for her what is best.
Poor Mrs. Jackson of Newcastle widowed. A fragile plant for such a
storm to sweep over.
^- Jdiiniiri/ 'Mil, 1H()1. — Spared to see another year and renew my
covenant, my first enti'y ought surely to be one of unmingled gratitude,
for the loving-kindness of the Lord has very graciously followed me, and
ill spite of much infirmity and shortcoming, I stand a determined, willing,
Ijledifod servant of the Lord. The year has, however, begun for me with
ill-health, for though I was permitted to minister on Sunday, I did so in
very great prostration, and have greatly suffered since with feverish cold,
;iik] inflamed sore throat. I trust to learn something even by this visitation,
us by all others, sent by the kind chastisement of my Heavenly Father.
'■Janiiani 2(5///.— Thank God for another week's mercies. I was
uniibled to preach on Sunday, with some difficulty as regarded my voice,
but with some power, so that seven after the evening service were con-
vinced of sin. During the week also I have been mercifully preserved
both in journeying ..nd from accident. On Wednesday part of the
ornamental work fell from the ceiling of Albion Chapel, Hull, during my
sermon, and broke the lamp glass by my side, but I was unhurt. Again,
;i drunken man made his way into the midst of the crowded 'dngregation,
and thoughtlessly, or wickedly, shouted ' Fire ! ' but, mercifully again,
the people remained still. What shall I render for spared life and
restored health V "
For nearly two years Mr. Panslion had lectured
comparatively seldom. In May 1859 he had finished
^tlie delivery, in London and the chief provincial
I centres, of his lecture on The Huguenots, by which
jlie had raised £1,000 for the Spitalfields Chapel. It
pvas then puLlished, and ceased to be available for
the platform. The lectures on The Prophet of Horeh
laud Jolin Bumjan were also in print. That on
ujiUrdture, Science, and Religion was, for some time,
[the only one he felt free to deliver, and he was now
^lesiroiis to lay it aside. His journal of March 2nd,
IS61, records the completion of a new lecture, Diiniel
in Bahijloii, and contains a prayer that God would
164
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CH \P. VII.
bless it to the highest good of those who might
hsten to it. A few days later it was delivered in
Victoria Terrace Chapel, St. John's Wood.
The high level to which he had risen in Tht
Huguenots was not maintained, or even at-
tempted. It is somewhat surprising, consideriuff
the elements of the picturesque and the tragic to be
found in the subject, that he did not treat tliein
as, in the previous lecture, he had shown himself
so well able to do. There are no portraits of Daniel
or Nebuchadnezzar answering to those of Catharine
de Medicis, of Coligny, and Henry of Navarre ; no
description of Belshazzar's feast that might compare
with the account of the massacre of St. Bartholomew.
In his Daniel in Bahijlon Mr. Punshon returns
to the style and method of his Prophet of Hord
It is not a historical study, hut a series of moral
and religious lessons drawn from a tiiotory ^vitl:
which all are supposed to be familiar. It iniglit,
indeed, be the expansion of a sermon. It is didactic
and hortatory throughout. He aims at pressir.?]
home upon young men the example of Daniel's
piety, his fidelity to duty, his fearlessness in the I
service of God. But these ijualities are illustrated
and enforced by modern instances, and Daniel is lost
sight of for pages together. There is, indeed, very
little of Babylon, and not much of Daniel, from fiijt
to last. For these reasons we cannot assign to
Daniel in Babylon a high place among Mr. Puuslioiisl
lectures. It has too little historical substance, 'm
the title raises exp^tatious which are not fulfilled.
But as an address founded upon weU-known Scnf-j
turen, an address practical, earnest, eloquent, lf|
i86i.] LECTURE: " DA^/EL IN BABYLON:*
165
.filled.
uoniiciug sins, exposing snares, and pleading for
Christian faith and morals, it calls for a different
estimate. Perhaps in no speech or lecture did
lie ever address himself more directly, and more
successfully, to the conscience of his hearers. To
the freedom of the platform is joined the power of
the pulpit; the spirit of the preacher animates and
exalts the lecturer.
The cUmax of one impassioned appeal was de-
hvered with tremendous force, and a dramatic
vividness which none who heard it will forget : —
" It is iigiiiust this l)egiiuiing of evil, tliis fii-st breach in the sacredneas
iif lonscience, tliat you must take your stand. It is the first careless
drifting into tlie t:urrent of the rapids which speeds the frail bark into
till ' 1- lol's wave. Yield to the temptation which now invites you,
ir. ! ! ;j\;\ .je that you are lost for ever. (}o to that scene of dissipation,
en. r V ir, ambhny hell, follow that 'stran<,'e woman ' to her house, make
thiit fraudulent entry, engage in that dou])tful speculation — what have you
done y You have weakened your moral nature, you have sharpened the
d;i|,'!,'er for the assassin who waits to stab you, and you are accessory, in
your measure, to the murder of your own soul. Brother, with all a
lirother's tenderness, I warn you against a peril which is at once so
threatening and so near. Now, while time and chance are given, while in
■ the thickly-peopled air there .are spirits which wait your halting, and
[ other spirits which wait to give their ministry to the heirs of salvation —
[now, let the conflict be decided. Break from the bonds that are already
closing around you. Frantic as a bondsman to escape the living hell
of shivery, be it yours to hasten your escape from the pursuing evil of
pin. There, close at your heels, is the vengeful and resolute enemy.
I Haste I Flee for your life ! Look not behind you, lest you be overtaken
J iirid destroyed. On — though the feet bleed, and the veins swell, and the
II art-strings quiver. On — spite of wearied hmbs, and shuddering
Imemories, and the sobs and pants of labouring breath. Once get within
jthe gates of the city of refuge and you are safe ; for neither God's love
III r man's will ever, though all the world demand it, give up to his
|fniv>uers ;i poor fugitive slave.''
hcn?-™^ Whatever qualities Daniel in Babylon might
leut. ''■liick as compared with previous lectures, it was not
ib6
IV. MORLEY PUNSHOM.
[chap. vn.
less popuLu*. The great audiences that flocked to
hear it yielded to the spell, and, as before, were
moved to laughter and to tears, to breathless atten-
tion and to rapturous applause. " Week-day ser-
mon " as it was, the multitudes hung upon his words,
and only feared he would draw to a close too soon.
One newspaper report refers to its sermon-like
character as follows : —
" Yet strange to say this lecture is the most didactic Mr. Punshon hii>
delivered. None of them aims so directly at the spiritual good of his
audience ; none has so few poetical recitations, none so little of the de-
scriptive word-painting so attractive in our days, none is so free from
sentimental, historical, and patriotic allusions so commonly resorted to in
order to elicit applause, — none, in short, would need so little change fi
adapt it to the pulpit, and no lecture of Mr. Punshon's that v"°. have heard
gave more genuine pleasure to his audience than this,"
A similar judgment is expressed, some years later,
in an American paper :—
" The lecture on Daniel in Babylon, often as it has been delivereil in
Europe and America, would bear to be repeated in every city, town, anJ
village where *he English language is spoken. Its literary merit is un-
doubtedly great ; but its solid lessons for men in every sphere of life ;m
a thousand times more valuable than all the flower of language and beauty
of illustration in which they are conveyed."
It cannot be supposed that an oration conceived iu
the spirit and directed to the ends that have been
described, could be delivered to great and sympa-
thetic audiences in all parts of the country without
making deep impression on some of those who liearJ
it. Instances of this came to light from time to
time, and afforded Mr. Punshon more pleasure tliau
all the harvest of applause.
Such were the following. The Uev. H. Beeswi
wrote : —
" A young man from this circuit went to Stockjioit to hour your In ti:;^ I
i86i.]
OVERWORK.
167
on Danit'l in Bahylon.. The emphasis hiitl on Daniel's })i'aying throe
times a day impressed him much. That evening was a turning-point.
He came borne resolved to pray and serve the Lord, is now an active and
useful member of the Society, and cheered us by his fervid narration of
hia experience in our lovefeast yesterday."
A letter without date or signature lias the follow-
ing:—
'• When you began your lecture I was still undecided in two points in
which I now see that right and wrong were at issue. I think I may say
that where I see my duty clearly I take small time to decide between it
and inclination if they are opposed ; but in this case I was perplexed, and
in a strait betwixt two. So many things seemed to plead on the one side
for me to take the easiest and pleasaatest course ; nothing almost on tho
other but a vague feeling of it being right so to decide. But when you
spke of Daniel's decision, in an instant I saw everything clearly, — saw
into what a snare I had almost fallen. I shall always remember your
words, and try to act up to them ; and for them, and for the gciod they
have done me, you will have my lifelong gratitude."
Journal.
'' March 9ih. — Very grateful to God for another week's mercies, during
which I have been enabled to deliver my lecture on Daniel ; I trust not
without profit to the hearei's. Little Fanny very poorly to-day. T fear
heginning as last spring. I long, if it be God's will, that she should be
spared.
''April Sith. — Have suffered severely for tho last few days from an
iittack of influenza, which (or something else) has induced a sort of light-
headedness that is very distressing, and which makes me feel as thoun;h
I were going to fall in the street when walking. Have felt my mind also
tumultuous, and lacking that untroubled rest and •'elf-possession which
sure trust in God's mercy and wisdom gives."
It is impossible to overlook the explanation of
these ailments and depressions which is furnished by
his list of engagements. He was doing too much.
The pace could not last. Immediate discomfort, and
a serious laying up in store for future account, must
reeds result from the pressure on his physical and
mental powers, and the constant strain upon his
i68
fF. MOkLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. VII.
nerves. In the month of February he preached
nineteen times, and addressed five large meetiugs.
In March he preached twenty times, und lectured
four times, besides meeting classes and attending
to various pastoral duties. But the number of his
public engagements is not the only matter to be
taken into account. It was their exhausting charac-
ter that bore so heavily upon him, the long jourueys,
the crowds, the excitement, the nervous exaltation
and subsequent reaction. His memory, a wilhng
and capable servant, was treated as though it could
by no possibility be overtasked. It was not un-
common for him to deliver from memory three
different lectures, each an hour and a half in length,
on three successive nights, with no other aid than
a few catch- word 3 written on a small card. The
p<^nalty of all this was exacted to the full iu after
years, and in his death at an age when many a pubHc
man ."s at his best ; and meanwhile premonitions and
foretastes of suffering were afforded. Nothing is
easier than to point the moral ; few things more
oi.iicult than for those concerned to apply it.
Journal.
'■^ April \ith. — A sick-bound waiter upon God, confined to the house
instead of ministering, as I had hoped and purposed, in Cornwall. The
symptoms which have so long hung about me gathered to a head, and in-
duced complete prostration on Thursday ; since which time I have been
very unwell, with torpid liver, remaining debility from influeuza, and
extreme nervous prostration and excitement. Ovci whelmed yesterday in
the prospect of prolonged uselessness, or of death.
"iJ/a// Wth. — Have been enabled to work this week, though in fe*
ness. I feel that I must have rest or I shall utterly break down. Tii
doctors .say ■+ is the exhaustion of the system arising from a long continu-
ance of overwork, ol brain, lungs, and strength. The Mctropohtiiii Clwiel
Building movtment looks prosperous. God speed it I
i86i.] CLOSE OF MINISTRY A T HA YSWA TER.
169
"J/t;y IH///.— So poorly on Sabbatli last that I went in the afternoon
to a physician. He tells uie just what Mr. Jakins did, that there is no
organic mischief, but that I must have rest. During the week very busy
at the District Meeting, and sustained through all my duties. Profited
this afternoon l)y conversation with George W., a candidate for the
ministry, who suddenly left the District Meeting because a heavy cloud
hung over his mind. While praying for him I felt my own faith
strengthened, and was euiibled to -see the Saviour on Whom alone I repose.
^^ J\mi' IHt/i. — For the livst month have had no opportunity of recording
anything in my journal, having been most of the time from home .seeking
to recrnit my strength at Scarborough. While away from home the
purpose seemed to be ivccom])lished ; but on my return I feel almost as bad
ll.^ before. I am striving to do my work in submission to Him Who may
lay me aside at any moment, and would ask for a closer conformity to His
righteous and holy will.
"June '2'Mh.— Have been enabled to go through tlie somewhat bard
work of this week better than I expected, and am thankful that I have
l)een brought home in safety. Have been enabled also, for the most part,
to keop my mind stayed upon God. Lord Campbell dietl suddenly on
Sunday. Impartial death forbears not to visit high quarters. Cavour
;md the Sultan of Turkey also called away. Nothing shows life's value
and solemnity more than death. It is a grv^.it revealer.
"./»/// 1),'/(. — Another week of mercy, thcugh of distressing feebleness. On
Sunday iiml Friday I had protracted attacks of faintness which completely
prostrated me, The doctors have again examined me, and have consulted
long upon my case. They abide by their former report, that there is
no organic mischief, and give me hope, by-and-bye, of being again active
and strong.
''Jii/// nth. — Somewhat better on the whole, though still nervously
debilitated. Preserved in journeying, and brought throug'i my work with
thankfulness to God. Finished on Sunday my ministry at Baj.- ;ater, — a
ministry which has humbled, honoured, and profited me more than any
former ministry which I have been privileged to exercise. To God be all
the glory I To-morrow (d.v.) I start for the Conference, and thence to
rusticate in hope of being braced for future labour."
On Sunday, July 14th, Mr. Punslion preached at
Bayswater in the morning, and at Hinde Street in
the eveuing. With these services his ministry in the
Hinde Street Circuit came to its close. The three
years of its duration were memorable among all the
[years of his ministry. They included the keenest
17©
rv. MORLEY PUNS HON.
L^llAI'. VII.
sorrows aud severest discipline lie had known, but
they had been crowded with work, and rich in results,
and had witnessed at once the extension of his popu-
larity and influence, and the consolidating of his
powers. They had been years of growth and develop-
ment in all that pertained to his character as a mau
and a Christian, and to his efficiency as a minister of
the gospel.
The number of members in the Circuit had riseu
from 923 in 1858, to 1,337 in 1861, of whom about
350 belonged to the Bayswater Society. To such
an extent was the latter increased and established,
that it was determined to separate it from Hinde
Street, and constitute it the head of a new Circuit,—
the normal method of Methodist extension. It was
more than a vindication of the method adopted under
Mr. !&Iacdonald's superintendeucy three years before,
and discussed so keenly at the Conference of 1859,
that, at the close of Mr. Punshon's term of ministry,
the latest venture of the Hinde Street Circuit became
itself the head and centre of a Circuit to which the
President of the Conference, the Kev. John Eatteii
bury, and the Rev. G. E. Osbcrn were appointed as
ministers.
It is not suggested that such notable progress was
due to Mr. Punshon's labours alone, but undoubtedly
it resulted from them in large measure.
The sermon with which Mr. Punshon closed his
ministry at Bayswater was preached from Acts xx.
24 : " But none of these things move me, neither
count I my life dear unto myself, so that I ung''^'
finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I
have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel
,H6i.] Cl.OSK OF MINTSTRY A'l nAYSWATKR.
171
of the grace of Grocl." It was a sort of recapitulation
of the essential elements of a gos})el ministry, — the
sin, the guilt, the helplessness of man, the great
redemption by the blood of Christ, and faith as the
condition and instrument of salvation. As gathering
up and re-affirming the substance of his preaching
(luring three yea,rs, this summary gives convincing
proof that his popularity owed nothing to novelty of
doctrine. Nothing could be simpler and less pre-
tending than his statement of accepted evangelical
truths. The only elements of novelty were in the
style, the rhetorical mrOiods, the glow of the
language, the rhythmic movement of the sentences,
and a strange, incommunicable power of delivery in
which all his nervous force and spiritual intensity
seemed to J&nd expression.
Among the sermons which belong to the Bays-
water period of Mr. Punshon's ministry are four
upon the parable of the Prodigal Son. They were
preached in October and November 1800, and were
subsequently published by him. As they were pre-
pared for the press by himself, they are fairer
specimens of his best efforts than those which have
been given to the world by irresponsible reporters —
persons whom he held in great dread and dislike — or
published from his manuscript since his death. The
first is entitled f^in and its Consequences. The prodi-
gal's dejmrture into a far country and his beginning
to be in want, are portrayed, or rather illustrated,
with much freedom and pictorial power. There are
passages that held the hearers breathless. They saio
tlio desolation portrayed, the honour v. recked, the life
wasted, mined, cast away to loneliness and shame : —
ifa
rV. MORLEY Pl/NSIION.
[< iiAP. vn.
" Tla-ro is iilwiiys sat tjay with the holid !
That brief revel of my life — ah, how I hate the memory ! Why did (Jod
make mo thus ? Why was the blood so hot in my veins that ijuiet hap-
piness, such as I used to have, seemed all too dull and slow? Those
swine feed contented. They limit their desires, &nd are happy in their
limitation. They were never other than they are, but I — curses m. the
knaves that fawned upon me ! curr,e8 on my own folly that fed itself upon
their lies ! is there not one of them that cares for me ? not one that
throws a thought after the man he has helped to ruin ? — Bind the girdle
tighter, that will keep the hunger down ! Ah, my table is soon spread.
Husks ! bring the courses in ! How dainty for the pampered servants
that ouce stood behind my chair ! Well, I'll brave it all. What ! yield
and bow myself, a pitiful mendicant ? No, never ! Ah, if my father
could but see me now ! No, I cannot go back to bo the butt of the
servants' scorn, to writhe under the contemptuous pity of my sleek
and jealous brother, and meet the justly offended glances of my
father's eye. Better anything than that ! Better these brute swine,
these desolate fields, this savage isolation from the human — nay, if the
worst come to the worst, I can but fold the robe over my broken heart
and die."
The third discourse deals with The Joy of Beturn,
and the fourth introduces the Elder Brother, and has
for title, The Dissentient from the Common Joji.
The remark already made respecting Mr. Punshou's
lectures may be recalled in laying down these
sermons. They may have disappointed the reader.
Many readers they will assuredly disappoint. They
will ask for more of exposition and argument, and less
of illustration ; they will feel the need of calmer
statement and more careful reasoning, for half-lights
and middle-tones in place of the high rhetorical
effects and sweeping declamations. But, it may be
repeated, these sermons are not for the reader. Not
even when their author prepared them for the press
could he give them a character different from that
which was inwrought from the first. They were
T:n
i86i.]
PAS/OKA A WORK.
m
conceived iii a uiind essentially oratorio ; tliey took
shape imder the influence which the presence of the
multitude exercises upon a sensitive and impassioned
nature. He must needs illustrate, portray, declaim,
and, taking the familiar truths of the Gospel, cast
them forth in picturesque and glowing sentences,
rich — sometimes over-rich — in the play of imagi-
nation and fancy. This was at once his calling
and his gift. And the power of his delivery
gave the highest possible effect to his style. No
canons of criticism can avail against indisputable
facts. A high place among the permanent pro-
ducts of the pulpit cannot be claimed for these
sermons ; but, as uttered by the living preacher, as
words spoken to the heart and conscience by an
earnest ambassador for Christ, they were among the
most powerful and effective appeals made to that
generation. They not only attracted and pleased,
but they brought the Gospel home to multitudes in
such a manner tliat they owed to the preacher
"their own selves also."
Four j'ears after he had left Bayswater, the Rev.
George Maunder wrote to him from thence : "Every-
where I meet your spiritual children."
Had circumstances permitted, Mr. Punshon would
have cultivated the pastoral side of his ministry to a
much greater extent than was actually the case. He
had a deep sense of ministerial responsibility, and of
the worth of individual lives. He knew that per-
sonal intercourse and influence have a part assigned
to them in the cure of souls for which nothing can be
a substitute. Throughout his eager, hurried, pubHc
life he prized most highly such opportunities as were
rrrr
176
TF'. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. vn.
given him of counselling or consoling individuals;
and, considering the character his ministry had
necessarily assumed, it is surprising that he was able
to do as much proper pastoral work as he actually
accomplished.
The following undated letters, written about this
time, will show that while preaching to great con-
gregations he did not lose sight of the welfare of
individuals.
" My dear Sir, — Will you pardon me if I venture to express to you
by letter the affectionate sympathy which I feel with -you under your
recent heavy trial ?
" I can well conceive how, linked intimately with your brother in com-
mercial as well as in social life, you should almost sink under the pressure
of care and anxiety which his removal will occasion you. Your own
comparative youth, the cares inseparable from business in this age of
competition, and the solicitude and affection which you cherish for your
mother and sisters at home, all these will make your |)re8ent feelings
acute, and your future prospects sufficiently formida) for Chapels in Watering-Ploces. — Opening of
Chapel in Paris — Letters to his I^ittle Daughter. — Lecture : Wexleii
and kin Times, — Jubilee of Missionary Society. — Letters to Mr. Hirst.
Mr. Punshon's next appointment was to the Isling-
ton Circuit, at that time one of the strongest iu
the Connexion. His colleagues were ihe Kevs.
Theophilus Woolmer, Wm. Hirst, and Wm. Gibson.
His friend M'Cullagh removed at the same time to
Stockport.
JOURNAI,.
" Se2>teinhn' 2\M. — The treatment of my physician and the rest ami
fresh air of the Highlands have somewhat relieved me from the symptoms
which have so long oppressed me, and I have been brought through
the excitement of Conference and of removal to a new sphere of labour
with comparative comfort. I am now settled in Islingttm, happily as to
my house, and with a fair prospect of usefulness, if I be but devoted ami
holy. I have felt very keenly leaving Bayswater, where, unwortliy as 1
know myself to be, I have many children iu the CJospel.
" i^epteinber 2Htli. — Preached with some comfort and power my first
sermon at Liverpool Road. The quarterly meeting on Friday pusa'd off
quietly. The people seem in good heart, and I trust we shall have the
' large blessing.'
" October bth, — Shocked inexpressibly this week by the death of poor
i86i.] IN MEMORIAM: THEOPHILUS PEARSON. 179
Theophilus Pearson. He died well. Can I not trust the grace which is
thus able to deliver ? I feel determined to consecrate myself afresh to
the service to which I have devoted my life."
Mr. Pearson is still remembered by many as a
man of brilliant powers and a noble disposition. His
short ministry of ten years was an eminently useful
one, and gave promise of exceptional success. He
died after an illness of only six days, greatly lamented
by his brethren in the ministry, and by the people
generally. It was a labour of love to Mr. Punshon
to write a brief sketch of his departed friend which
appeared in the Watchman of October 10th, 18G1 : —
"... In the death of Theophilus Pearson our beloved Methodism has
sustained a loss of no common order. It would bo difficult, among the
many bright named of our rising ministry, to point to one who seemed to
combine so many qualifications of promise.
" With a graceful figure, with a face so marvellously expressive that in
it, as in a glass, was reflected each feeling of the soul, with a beautiful
smile, with the spirit and manners of a gentleman, there was that in his
appearance which was at once attractive and commanding : and who that
WHS privileged with his friendship will forget his transparent sincerity,
and the heart that was felt to beat in the clasp of his loving hand ?
"And this goodly casket enclosed a goodlier jewel. Though there was
no lack of those fine adjustments which go far to balance chui-acter, his
manlineas stood out so prominent as to strike all observers. His lecture
on ' Individuahty,' which he delivered so successfully to the Young Men's
Christian Association in their last year's course at Exeter Hall, must have
been drawn from his own inner consciousness. He was every inch a man.
He had a .soul of his own, and it was a right noble one. Intense in his
love of the truth, he was intense in his hatred of all that would pervert
IT conceal it. Constitutionally disposed to champion the weak, his love
iif lilMity was a passion. He was profoundly intolerant of the shabby
md the cruel, and his language was not always guarded when he ile-
miuncfd the meanness of falsehood, or was roused by the insolence
"f tyranny. . . .
" Greatly depressed at leaving Sheffield, where he had spent three years
ot happy toil, and where his memory will long be green, he had entered,
notwithstanding, with a heart and with a will upon his work in Hull.
His friends were rejoicing in the hope for him of larger Gospel triumphs
i8o
JV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP, vni
¥
when, with terrible haste, came upon them the tidings of disaster— that
their friend was ill, dying, dead ! Thus does God vindicate His own
supremacy, rebuke the expectations of His people, and show that He
needs not any of His creatures to preserve His ark, and to carry on His
work in the world. It is for us, in reverent submission, to say, as our
friend himself would have us, ' Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in
Thy sight,' and to wait for the reason of the stroke, until the time when
from the mouth of every sepulchre the great stone shall be rolled away.
"... For him there needs no mourning. And yet nature will have itt
way, and all the human within us groans in spirit, as beside thu cave
in Bethany the Divine-human groaned before us, —
' So good, so kind, and he is gone.'
As the words are written, the heart throbs with tenderness, and the eyes
fill with unbidden tears. ' Fii/fl, rah\ in airmnm nth ! ' Nay, thanks be
to God, the ' in aternnm ' is erased from our farewells by the glad hope
of the Gospel. Brothers in the same faitli, and holding fast the lieginniug
of our confidence, we shall meet again.
"With no prompting but that of a full heart, and with no waminl
save that of the sincerest friendship, have these lines been penned. It is
not asked that he shall seem to all as he will for ever seem to the friend
who in this feeble tribute mourns him ; but there are times when silence
is treason to memory ; and there was that in the mind of the writer which
rebelled against the thought that the name of TiiEoriiiLUs Pearxon
should be forgotten, or noticed only amid the common and undistinguish
able dead.
" ' I care not, in these fading days.
To raise a cry that lasts not long,
And round thee with the breeze of song
To stir a little dust of praise.
" ' Thy leaf has perished in the green.
And, while we breathe beneath the sun.
The world, which credits what is done.
Is cold to all that might have been.
" ' But what of that ? my darkened ways
Shall ring with music all the same ;
To breathe my loss is more than fame.
To utter love more sweet than praise.' "
The remainder of the year was spent, for the most
paxfc, in quiet work in his own circuit. He gave no
lectures, but was preparing a new one to be launched
i86i.]
LECTURE : " AfA CA ULA V."
i8i
early in the following year. His health was far from
good, and his nerves were exceedingly sensitive to
all symptoms of ailment. From time to time he was
alarmed by returns of the haemorrhage from the
throat. The attacks were slight, and they soon passed
away, but they kept him in a state of apprehension
and fear against which he strove with varying success.
The anniversary of his loss returns, and he
writes : —
" Again the eason of the year when my life's great son-ow came upon
me. Three years in heaven ! My precious wife ! precious, and mine
still. Oh, for grace to comfort myself now and always with the glad
hope of the Gospel."
He was encouraged by signs of blessing on his
work at Highbury. At Hornsey Road also, and at
Hackney, the showers began to fall. At Liverpool
Road, too, there were conversions. Meanwhile,
Mrs. Clough, the widow of his uncle, was very near
death, suffering much, but resigned and peaceful.
JorRNAI..
" Ikcemher 2\at. — God has visited the whole nation during the past
week l)y the sudden removal of the Prince Consort, who died last Saturday
evening at ten minutes to eleven. At the present crisis this is indeed a
terrible calamity, but the Lord reigneth, and He can make our extremity
His opportunity to save us. Poor Aunt Clough also hovering between
life and death . Thus do private and public griefs commingle."
" heicinhvr 2Hlli. — Brought by God's grace to the last Saturday evening
of another year, — a year of many mercies, some trials, and, alas ! of many
shortcomings. In the review of it to-night, I cast myself afresh upon
Jesus, my Divine Daysman. He, and He alone, can save. Mr. Woolmer's
ibild interred to-day, I officiating. Mrs. Clough still lingers. Oh for
the gift, rare as it is precious, of improving alike privilege and time."
On the last night but one of the year, just before
midnight, the new lecture was finished. He wrote
to Mr. Hirst : —
l82
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. vim.
" Macaidaii ciinio to an end liist night, at ten minutuH to twelve.
Will yon come down to dinner, and read him thiH afternoon V Do, there'*
u j^ood fellow."
This lecture was in some respects a new depar-
ture. Elijah, Daniel, Banyan, The Huguenots, — in
each of these he had kept close to the central
themes of religion. They were but sermons carried
from the pulpit to the platform, more broadly
handled, and set forth with greater freedom of
illustration and wealth of language. But would this
be possible with Macaulay for a text? The result
showed that it was, though there were difficulties
in the way. Mr. Punshon's aims and methods
were now so established that he could not do
other than preach the Gospel, whatever might be
his theme; and, as regards its tone and spirit
and pervading principles, the lecture on Macaulaij
is not to be distinguished from those which pre-
ceded it.
The subject had strong attractions for him.
Macaulay had long ranked high among his favourite
authors. In some " Confessions " written in a
friend's album, half in jest and half in earnest, he
places Macaulay' s name lirst among the prose
writers he admired. Nor is it difficult to understand
this. Alike by the practical character of his mind
and the rhetorical qualities of his style, Macaulay
attracted, chamed, and influenced Punshon both in
earlier and later years. The author of the Essaijs,
perhaps more than any one else, had kindled his
boyish imagination, and set it working in the direc-
tion of history and biography. To him he owed
i86i.]
LKCl URR : "MA CA ULA Y: '
i8.i
iiiucli iiitollectiuil qiiickoiiiiig and delight, and the
obligation — often acknowledged — has its permanent
witness in certain characteristics of his own style,
iu his love of finished portraiture, of antithetic seu-
teuces, and the massing from time to time of
rhythmic processions of stately words.
Two years had passed since Macaulay's death, and
although many years were to elapse before the pub-
lication of the biography which worthily links the
name of Trevelyan with that of Macaulay, yet so
much had been written — critical, eulogistic, bio-
graphical — as to render Mr. Punshon's task, in his
own judgment, a difficult one. He compared himself
to a gleaner in a harvest-field from which the corn
had been reaped. But his chief difficulty arose from
the fact that Macaulay's religious ** moderatism," to
give it its gentlest name, prevented him from being a
hero after the lecturer's own heart. He compared his
embarrassment to that of a son, *' keenly affectionate,
cliugiug with reverent fondness to the memory of a
father, who is aware of one detraction from that
father's excellence which he may not conscientiously
c'ouceal." He would not make the great and
hououred name of Macaulay, a man so estimable in
so many ways, a mere text from which to point a
painful moral ; but, on the other ha? i, he could not
review his splendid career, with its great achieve-
ments in literature and politics, and make no refer-
ence to the fact that earnest Christian discipleship is
the liighest aspect of the noblest lives. To criticism
exclusively literary he had no call ; for this he had,
perhaps, no special qualification. In reviews and
magazines without uumber such criticism had ap-
I
184
IV. MORf.RY PUNSHON.
[chap. VIII.
pearod. His heart warmed towards the man, master
of 80 many arts and accomplishmeiitH — scholar,
essayist, historian, orator, ])olitician ; and he desired
to tell the siiory of his life, to pay generous tribute to
his powers, and to quicken the mental and moral
life of his hearers by noble passages from his writings.
Had Macaulay's attitude towards religion been such
as to enable him to crown his eulogy with the last
and highest praise, how would he have rejoiced in
his task i As it was, he spoke out upon what he
called " the one great defect in Macaulay's life and
writings" in the passage that follows. It was
strongly animadverted upon in certain quarters at
the time, and by some it will be resented still. But
no apology shall accompany it here. It is in the
truest sense characteristic. His strongest convic-
tions are embodied in it ; and being the man he was,
he could not say other than he did.
" The one groat defect in Miicaulay's life and writings, viewed fn»ni ;i
Ciiriatian standpoint, is his negativism, to use no stronger word, on tlu'
subject of evangelical religion. Not that he ever inii)eaches its .sacred-
nesH, — no enemy of religion can claim liis cliampionship ; he was at ona'
tot) reverent and too refined for infidelity ; hut he nowhere upholds the
Divine presence or presidencj' ; nowhere traces the unity of a puqxis.'
higher than the schemes of men ; nowhere 8i)eak8 of the proicpts of
Christianity as if they were divinely sanctioned ; nowhere gives to it»
cloud of witnesses the adhesion of his honoured name. As we roud hi"
essays or his history, when he lauds the philosophy of Macon or tells i>f
the deliverances of William, we are tempted to wonder at his serene in-
difference to those ^reat questions which, sooner or later, must pitwont
themselves to the mind of every man. Did the solemn problems of thi
soul — the whence of its origin, the what of its purpose, the whither of it<
destiny — never perplex and trouble him V Hod he no fixed opinion about
religion as a reality, that inner and vital essence which should be ' the
core of all the creeds V ' Or did he content himself with ' the iirtistii'
balance of conflicting forces,' and regiird Protestantism and Popery alii^e
as mere schemes of the hour, influences equally valuable in their day, and
l86t0
LECTURE: " AfACA Uf.A K"
'fi.S
oiutilly iiiortiil whcu thuir work whh dnnu ? Did it tiuvur Htriku him tliiil
\\\"XM wuH II Pnividciiuu iit work wlicii Ium honi wiut Huvud from niwiiHHiiiii-
tio 1, wlieii tlio fierce wiiulH Hcatterod the Armiida, wlicn tho fottcrH wer«
broken wliich Rome had forged and fuHtoned, when from tho Htrugglen of
yeup* roue up tho alow and ntately growth of Bnglinh freedom .'' Wliy tlid
he ulwuyH brand vice an au injury or an error 'i Did ho never feel it to l)e
a Hin? LiN)king at the preHont- -why alwayn through tho glaH8 of the paHt
and nt'vor by tho light of tlie future 'i Did he never pant after a Hpiritual
inHi((ht, nor throb with a roligiouH faith ? AhiH ! that on the nuitton* whicli
theHe ({uoHtions touch hin writingH make no Hign. No one expected the
historian to become a preacher, or tlie cHHayiHt a theologian ; but that
there Hhould bo ho ntudiouH an avoidance of those deep, awful mattorn,
which have to do with the eternal, and that in a history in which religion,
in w)me phase or other, wa« tho iuHpiration of the events which he
records, is a fact which no Christian heart can think of without aurpri>o
and wirrow.
" It huH become fashionable to praise a neutral literature, which prides
itnelf upon its freedom from bias, and upon tho broad lino of sepanitiou
which it dra v^s between things secular and sacred ; and there are many who
ull this liberality ; but there is an (dd Book whose authority, thank God !
is nut yet deposed from the heart of Christian Kngland, which would brand
it with a very different nauio. That Book tells us that the fig-tree was
blasted, not because it was baneful, but because it was barren ; and that
the itittcr curse was denounced against Meroz, not because she rallied
with tlie forces of the foe, but l)ecause she came not up to the help of the
Lord. Amid the stirring and manifold activities of tho age in which wt;
live, to he neutral in the strife is to rank with tho enemies of the Saviour.
There is no greater foe to the spread of His cause in tho world than tho
jilucid iiidiirer»'nti.sn» which is too honourable to betray, while it is too
iiireless ur t(M) cowardly to join Him. The nirer the endowments, the
lieeper the obligation to eousecrate them to the glory of their (iiver.
Tliat Inilliant genius, that indefatigable industry, that inHnencing might
iif speech, that wondrous and sean^hing faculty of analysis, what might
they not havt! accomplished if they had been pledged to the recognition
i>f a hi<,'her purpose than literatiire. and fearless in their advocacy of the
faith of Christ! Into the secret history of the inner unin. of. course we
may uot enter ; and we gladly hope, from small but significiint indications
that a searcher may discover in his writings, as well as from iiitinuitions,
apparently authentic, which were published shortly after his death, that,
if there had rested any cloud on his experience, the Sun of Righteousness
ilippersed it. and that ho anchored his personal hope on that " dear name "
which his earliest rhymes had sung ; but the regret may uot be suppressed
that his transcendent powers were given to any oltject lower than the
highest. And when I see two life-courses before me, both ending in West-
1 86
TV. MQRLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. viit.
minster Abbey, — for the tardy gratitude of the nution adjudged to Ziichary
Macauhiy's remains the honour which it denied to his living reputation,—
when I see the father, poor, slandered, living a life of struggle, yet secretly
but mightily working for the oppressed and the friendless, and giving all
his energies in a bright summer of consecration unto God ; and when I sec
the son, rich, gifted, living a life of success, excellent and envied in every-
thing he undertook, breathing the odours of a perpetual incense-cloud, and
l)assing from the memory of an applauding country to the tomb, but aim-
ing through his public lifetime only at objects which were ' of tbe earth
earthy ' — 1 feel that, if there be truth in the Bible, and sanction in the
obligations of religion, and immortality in the destinies of man, he
aimed too low who aimed beneath the skies ; ' that the truer fame is with
the painstaking and humble Christian worker ; and that the amaranth which
encircles the father is a greener and more fragrant wreath than the laurel
which crowns the forehead of the more gifted and brilliant son."
Among the more notable passages in the lecture is
a series of portrait sketches, picturesque and vivid, of
the worthies of " the Clapham Sect," — Thornton and
Wilberforce, Granville Sharp and Zachary Macaulay.
Another contains a genial and humorous reference
to Macaulay 's memorable expression " the bray of
Exeter Hall." He thought it had been resented
too much.
" Considering that fifteen years have elapsed since its utterance ; consider-
ing that none of us has been so prudent that we can afford to be judged
by the hu\ which would make a man an offender for a word ; consiikTiiig
tliat it was one of the most effective war-cries which routed him at Edin-
burgh, and that by English fair-play no one should bo punished twice for
the same offence ; considering that the word expresses tlj" call of ;i
trumpet as well as the nmsic of a certain quadruped, and tl^s't we need
net, unless we like, prefer the lower analogy when a higher one is ready to
our hand ; considering, though one must very delicately whisper it, that
amid the motley groups who have held their councils in E.xeter Hall it is
not impossible that less noble sounds have now and then mingled with the
leonine roar ; considering that Macaulay 's writings have done so unich to
foster those eternal principles of truth and love to whoso advocacy Exeter
Hall is consecrated ; and considering especially that Exeter Hall survived
the assault, and seems in pretty good condition still, that it has never
ceased Its witness-bearing against idolatry and perfidy anu wrong, uiiJ
i86i.]
LECTURE : "MA CA ULA Y. ' '
187
that its tcHtimoiiy is a word of jjower to-day, — I should like to pronounce
that Exeter Hall has forgiven him, and. that this, its very latest ' bray,' is
a trumpet-blast which swells his fame."
In none of his lectures is the suhject carried to
a finer and naore impressive close. After mentioning
the names of men of letters whom death had gathered
during the year — Humboldt, and Prescott, and
Washington Irving, De Quincey, and Leigh Hunt,
Hallam and Sir James Stephen — he said : —
" It seemed as if the spoiler had reserved the greatest victim to the
last . . . Suddenly, with the parting year, the summons came. ... If
Macaulay had an ambition dearer than the rest, it was that he might lie
' in that temple of silence and reconciliation where the enmities of twenty
generations lie buried ; ' and the walls of the great Abl)ey enclose him ' in
their tender and solemn gloom.' . . .
" The pall was over the city on that drear January morning, and the
cold raw wind wailed mournfully as if sighing forth the requiem of the
great spirit that was gone ; and amid saddened friends — some who had
shared the sports o^: his childhood, some who had fought with him the
liiittles of political life— amid warm admirers and generous foes, while
the aisles rang with the cadences of solemn music, and here and tiiere
were sobs of sorrow, they bore him to that quiet resting-place, where he
waits the adoption, to wit, the redemption of the body.' Not far from
the place of his sepulture are the tablets of Gay, and Rowe, .nd Thomson,
;md Garrick, and Goldsmith ; on his right sleeps Isaac Barrow, the
ornament of his own Trinity College ; on his left, no cKmour breaks the
slumber of Samuel Johnson ; from a pedestal at the head of the grave, serene
and thoughtful, Addison looks down ; the coffin which was said to have
been exposed at the time of the funeral, probably held all that was mortal
iif Richard Brinsley Sheridan ; Campbell gazes pensively across the tran-
sept ; and Shakespeare, the remembrancer of mortality, reminds us from
his open scroll that the 'great globe itself, and all that it inhabit, shall
dissolve, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck behind ; '
and Handel, comforting us in our night of weeping by the glad hope of
immortality, seems to listen while they chant forth his own magnificent
!iymn, ' His body is buried in peace> but his name liveth for evermore.'
• . From royal sarcophagus, and carven shrine ; from the rustling of
iliose faded banners ; yonder where the Chathanis and Mansfields repose,
litre where the orators and poets lie, comes there not a voice to us of
our frailty, borne into our hearts by the brotherhood of dust upon
1 88
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. VIII.
which our footsteps tread ?
learn it !
How solemn the warning ! O for grace to
" ' Earth's highest glory ends in — " Here he lies ! "
And " dust to dust " concludes her noblest song.'
" And shall they rise, all these ? Will there be a trumpet-blast so loud
that none of them may refuse to hear it, and the soul, re-entering its
shrine of eminent or common clay, pass upward to the judgment?
' Many and mighty, but all hushed,' shall they submit with us to the
arbitrations of the last ansize ? And in that world, is it true that gold is
not the currency, and that rank is not hereditary, and that there is only
one name that is honoured ? Then, if this is the end of all men, let the
living lay it to his heart. Solemn and thoughtful, let us seek for an
assured refuge ; childlike and earnest, let us confide in the one accepted
Name ; let us realize the tender and infinite nearness of God our Father,
through Jesus our Surety and Friend ; and in hope of a joyful resur-
rection for ourselves, and for the great Englishman we mourn, let us sing
his dirge in the words of the truest poet of our time : —
" ' He is gone who seemed so great.
Gone, but nothing can bereave him
Of the force he made his own
Being here, and we believe him
Something far advanced in state,
And that he wears a truer crown
Than any wreath that man can weave him.
But speak no more of his renown.
Lay your earthly fancies down,
And in the solemn temple leave him,
God accept him, Christ receive him.' "
Macaulay was first delivered in the Town Hall,
Newcastle-on-Tyne, January 29th, 1862. It proved
as effective as any of his previous lectures. Mr.
Punshon had now reached that high tahle-land of
popularity on which he was to move as long as
health and strength should last. He had acquired
perfect mastery of his method, and a certainty of
touch upon great audiences that never failed. There
was, indeed, nothing of experiment in the essay-
orations which, for some years, followed one another
1 862.]
POWER OF DELIVERY.
189
in quick succession. To his instinct of style and
delivery large experience was now added. He knew
himself; in his boldest efforts he kept well within
the range of his powers ; and he knew the great,
eager, impressible audiences of evangelical Eng-
land as few men have known them. Had one
unacquainted with English life, or at least with
Nonconformist and Evangelical English life, been
suddenly set down in Exeter Hall, or the Free
Trade Hall, Manchester, at some great climax
of Solin Bunyan or llie Ihiguenots, of Macaulmj
or WUherforce, he would liave witnessed as remark-
able a scene as our land could show. Three
thousand people spring, as by electric discharge,
from the tension of bowed and breathless listening
to wild excitement and raptures of applause. It
is not depth or originality of thought that pro-
duces this result. This has been acknowledged
again and again in these pages. To move great
masses of people in this manner two things are
ueedful : first, the sincere and unreserved throwing
of the whole man into what is said ; and, second, the
power of magnetic utterance, a delivery that, in some
unexplained manner, shall come home to the hearer,
stirring his pulses and moving upon all his sensi-
bihties. As we trace the coui-se of Mr. Punslion's
hfe-labours, the conviction grows that it was this
latter gift which gave his work its special character.
In moral and spiritual sources of strength he had
many equals ; in intellectual power and training he
nad many superiors ; but in the ability so to deliver
his ovu prouucl-ions, or those of others, as to sway
au audience wi-'h overmastering emotion, he had no
1 90
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. VIII.
superiors ; in his own day at least he had no equal.
Perhaps the most striking illustrations of this power
were furnished by his recitations of poetry. To
many who heard him it was the revelation of
altogether unimagined possibilities in the way of
rhythmic, modulated utterance. What with the pro-
fessed elocutionist, on the one hand, and the fearless
but incapable amateur, on the other, there may in
these days be need of apolofry for such .^n art as
recitation. But in itself it is a noblp one, and a true
master of it is between the poet and the musician,
something akin to both. Five-and- twenty years
ago there was no man in England, professed elocu-
tionist or other, who could move an audience by the
recitation of a stirring or pathetic poem as Mr.
Punshon could. When he repeated the story of
the " Keeping of the Bridge " from Macaulay's
Horatius, the people seemed to hear the sullen
roar of the swollen Tiber, and the long howling of
the wolves ; they saw the crest of brave Horatius
above the surges, and when
" . . . he entered through the river-gate,
Borne by the joyous crowd,"
the whole audience with shouts and clapping helped
to bring him into the city.
After its delivery at Newcastle, the usual course of
things followed. Bequests poured in from all tlie
great centres ot the country, and from many places
neither great nor central. During the next few
months it was given in London, Leeds, Bradford,
Manchester, Birmingham, Derby, Northampton, and
many other towns. In London the success of
Macaulay surpassed that of any previous lecture.
i862.]
VARIED LABOURS.
191
On the evening of February 11th, Exeter Hall was
crowded to excess long before the hour appointed.
A month later it was repeated in the same place to a
similar crowd ; and the following month St. James's
Hall was filled to overflowing on the occasion of its
delivery for the third time. The note in his journal
is: —
" Privileged again to deliver my lecture to such an audience as I have
never had before."
The year 1862 was one of intense and unremit-
ting toil. The lecture on Daniel was still running
its course side by side with Macaulai/. Each of
them was delivered fourteen times during the
year ; and far more numerous than his lectures were
the sermons preached in almost every corner of the
land. Nor did these wide and varied extra-parochial
labours seriously interfere with his usefulness in his
own Circuit. The foundation-stone of a new chapel
at Mildmay Park was laid in the spring. At the
March Quarterly Meeting an increase of fifty-one
members of Society was reported, and a resolution
passed for the formation of a new Circuit. But he
was doing too much, and he knew it. Entries of
this kind are not infrequent in his journal : —
" Maij 2-itli. — Preserved again in journeying, and brought homo safely,
tlitmgb sore wearied with labour. Am doing too much, I feel ; but it is
liiird to deny calls for help which come from every quarter."
At times he suffered, though not so severely as in
some other years, from exhaustion and depression.
The fluctuations in his little daughter's health were
almost reproduced in his own, with such sympathy
and solicitude did he watch over her. The death
192
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. VIII.
of friendR, and even of those with whom lie liad
hut sUght intimacy, never failed to touch him
deeply. This was characteristic of him through life.
The kind of famiUarity with death's doings which
most husy men acquire, never seems to have come
to him. Each visitation in the wide circle of his
acquaintances awakened emotion as fresh and keen
as in his earliest days. The obituary records in
his journal are very numerous, for his mind, instead
of turning from the thought of death, schooled itself
to dwell upon it reverently and piously. In 1862
his journal contains the following entries : —
" Jiiuuarif 2bth. — Dear Aunt Clough released from her suffering yester-
day. Another link loosened. My dear friend Mr. Dnncan also called
away, — a brave, strong soul stilled in the silence of the grave. The alls
are "Constant.
" March Ix/.^Auother daughter of Mr. Job's summoned away.
''.Time 2\xL — Dear Mr. Inglis gone. Mrs. Atmore, Mr. Williams. (if
Waterloo Road, and Mrs. George Hunter, of Newcastle, all likewise called
to put off the earthly tabernach'.
" J«/// bill. — Poor Joseph Edge summoned away, and Mr. IiJdward
Corderoy seriously ill.
" Jiihi 19 general
intcrostH of Mc'thodinm in most of the watering-places of our country must
fail, unless some better chapel accommodation can be provided ; and that
such accomnr .Tdation is not likely to be provided in the ordinary way for
years to come. The Conference, therefore, with hearty approval, accepts
the offer of the Rev. W. M. Punshon, ' to endeavour, by private solicita-
tion or otherwise, to raise a Fund for the purpose of making grants to aid
in the erection of chapels in those places of public resort to which many
families of our p" ip!e resort in summer, such Fund to be distributed by a
('onwnittee which the Conference shal! appoint.' And it hereby grants
permission to Mr. Punshon to make such solicitation, with the consent of
the Kuperintendents of Circuits."
Thus was Mr. Punshon committed to the most
arduous undertaking in which he had yet engaged.
But he reckoned, not in vain, upon the help of God,
and upon the good will of his brother ministers, upon
the hberality of the people, and his own well-tried
powers. For himself he sought nothing but increased
labours and heavier responsibilities ; on behalf of the
Church he loved, " to his power, yea, and beyond his
power, he was willing."
Letter to Rev. W. Hirst.
"Cornwall Wesleyan Conference, Camborne,
''JnlyliUt, 18G2.
" We opened with a large number of preachers this morning. John H.
James was elected, almost without competition, into the Hundred. For
President, Prest had 230 votes, Osborn 24, Thornton 22. For Secretary,
Farrar 225 votes, Thornton 19, Punshon 8, Bedford 6. We have had a
'o'lorious prayer-meeting. The prayers of Osborn and Thornton were
accompanied with mighty power. There seems a wonderful spirit of
hearini,' abroad amongst the people, atid we had something like hysterical
sjinptoms mani iieated in the prayer-meeting. I am sorely busy, so take
iill my love and believe me ever yours affectionately."
200
W. MORLEY PUNSUON.
[chap. VIII.
Letter to the Same.
"Camborne, August 5th, 1862.
" Wo are getting on very rapidly with business. I am bothered, vexed,
embarrassed, everything but killed with it. ... I had a fearful day on
Sunday. When I got to Redruth I was told that I could not get near the
chapel, that it had been filled for two hours by a clamorous crowd, who
had scaled the walls and left the seat-holders outside. Nothing remained
but to go into a field, to which I with reluctance consented, and preached
to 6,000 people. A poor man had his leg broken iu Wo places. This has
a little unnerved me ; otherwise I am pretty well."
Journal.
" August 23rd. — Since I wrote the last entry in this book I have had the
multiplied and wonderful experiences of the first Cornwall Conference,
and have been brought home in health and safety. I would raise the
grateful song for the manifold mercies of my heavenly Father. We
have had a glorious Conference. The spirit of hearing has been poured
out upon the people. Large gifts of the Holy Ghost have come upon
the congregations, and it is to be hoped that the effects will be lasting.
During the Conference, I think, I hope, I have grown in grace, though I
still mourn my feebleness. I start another year with very earnest resolves
to be the Lord's fully, and I pray for prosperity and blessing. I have,
in humble dependence upon Divine help, made an offer to the Conference
to endeavour to raise £10,000 in five years, to give grants in aid of the
erection of chapels in places of summer resort. I feel startled when I
think of it, and apt to imagine that I have been presumptuous and bold ;
but I trust by God's help to succeed.
" September 2Qth. — I shall be glad, in some respects, when this Exhibi-
tion year is over ; there is so much distraction consequent upon frequent
relays of visitors, that, although it is gladdening to see the faces of friends,
one finds it diflRcult to maintain the contemplative spirit, and to meditate
at each recurring eventide.
" October 4th. — Preserved in journeying this week, and, on the whole,
in health, though seized in the pulpit on Thursday with a sudden faint-
ness which had nearly overwhelmed me. Better somewhat in spiritual
matters, and yet dissatisfied. I want, and must have, closer fellowship
with God, and a more prevailing spirituality of mind. Some inquiries
after salvation on Sabbath evening last."
A few days later Mr. Punshon went to Paris to
take part in the opening of the new chapel in the
Rue Roquepine. For many previous years the work
\ VIII.
1862.
, vexed,
day on
lear the
vd, wbo
emained
(reached
rhia has
5 had the
iference,
raise the
er. We
n poured
ime upon
e lasting,
though I
it resolves
, I have,
onfereace
lid of the
id when I
and bold ;
Exhibi-
frequent
)f friends,
meditate
Ihe whole,
ien faint-
spiritual
Ifellowship
inquiries
faris to
in the
le work
1862.]
OPENING OF PARIS CHAPEL.
201
of Methodism in Paris had been carried on, at great
disadvantage, and at great cost, in a small hired
building in the Kue Eoyale. But owing to a series
of circumstances inviting, and almost compelling,
a new departure on a larger scale, a site had been
secured immediately adjoining the Boulevard Males-
herbes, near the Madeleine. Upon this a building
was erected that included a schoolroom and offices
in the basement, a chapel above, to accommodate
some eight hundred persons, and, over that, apart-
ments for a minister. It was an onerous and costly
undertaking, and the missionary committee hesitated,
even after making a beginning, whether or not to pro-
ceed with it. But it seemed impossible to draw back
without altogether violating the spirit, and breaking
with the traditions, of Methodist missions. If there
were difficulties to overcome, there was also a forward
pressure of combining circumstances that was not to
be resisted. In Paris, Mr. Wilson, and subsequently
Mr. Gibson, who has given himself through so many
devoted years to Christian work in France, laboured
to bring the scheme to a successful issue ; while in
England Mr. Arthur was serving the cause in public
and private, by his tongue and by his pen. A deep
impression was made. In spite of other claims,
numerous and heavy enough, the heart of English
Methodism warmed towards this latest missionary
venture, and its generous hand opened once more.
The chapel was built, and arrangements made for
its dedication on Friday, October 17th, 1862. An
excursion from London was organised by which more
than a hundred friends and well-wishers of the cause
went to Paris, and were present at the opening ser-
202
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. VIII.
vices. At the first service, Dr. Osborn read prayers,
and Mr. Punshon preached to a congregation of about
four hundred persons from 1 Peter ii. 5, "Ye also as
lively stones are built up a spiritual house." On the
following Sunday morning he preached again from
Heb. ix. 13, 14, " For if the blood of bulls and goats,"
etc. Mr. Rattenbury occupied the pulpit in the
evening, while Mr. Punshon preached in the after-
noon at the American Methodist Episcopal Church.
From Paris Mr. Punshon, accompanied by one
or two friends, visited Strasburg, Heidelberg,
Mayence, and Cologne. From Cologne they went
to Brussels, and next day to Calais, expecting to
reach London the same evening. But the pleasant
holiday journey was not to terminate without much
discomfort and some danger. They left Calais iu
the steamer Maid of Kent, at 3.45 on Saturday
afternoon. About seven miles from the French
coast the engines broke down, and the boat was
disabled. Meanwhile the breeze swelled into a gale,
and the Maid of Kent was helpless in mid-channel.
Hour after hour passed, and as night came on
considerable anxiety was felt at Dover on account
of the overdue steamer. Shortly before midnight
a powerful steam-tug was sent out in search of her,
but returned at 11 a.m. next day without any tidings.
It was not until four o'clock in the afternoon that
the Vivid mail steamer arrived in Dover harhour
with thirty-five passengers on board, taken from the
Maid of Kent, which she had left, with two anchors
down, waiting for the weather to moderate.
Journal.
" Nnvemher Int. — For some houra wo drifted helplessly at the mercy "f
the angr
A night
Tiod's g(
life may
and stren
i862.]
THE COTTON-FAMINE.
20.^
the angry watci-s, Have that there was a God Who restrained their fury.
A night and day were thus spent in the deep, and we just escaped by
God's goodness the terrible Goodwin Sands. ... Oh that my spared
life may be renewed in fresher dedication ! The Lord accept my vow,
and strengthen me for its discharge."
The rumour of disaster to the Maid of Kent had
spread very fast, but it was speedily followed by the
assurance that Mr. Punshon had reached home in
safety, and many gave thanks on his behalf.
The remainder of the year was spent in the
customary labours of his busy life ; and in addition to
these, another matter began to claim his sympathy,
and to make demands upon his time and strength.
The distress in Lancashire arising out of the *' Cotton-
famine," was assuming the proportions of a national
calamity, and in such a case his was not the heart to
seek exemption from the common care and sorrow.
JOUUNAL.
" November 15th. — Much engaged during the week in preparing an
appeal on behalf of the Lancashire distress. Felt drawn out somewhat
in gratitude to think of my many mercies. Again humbled before the
Lord because of my faithlessness.
'^ November 29th. — The anniversary of the day on which many years
ago, after a protracted and cheerless seeking. Divine light broke in upon
my soul. How unfaithful have I been since then ! How many privileges
I have abused, and yet I am the Lord's, with a humble trust in Jesus !
I can say that I hope in His mercy ; that I am striving against sin ; that
I would fain be absolutely free from its power. I dread indifference, I
dread hypocrisy, I dread professional piety, I dread being reasoned
plausibly into that which shall condemn, and I would, God helping me,
watch over my own heart, ".nd keep its issues diligently."
At the close of the year he reviewed the past with
a chastened but grateful spirit. He spent a happy
Christmas Day with his children and his sister-in-law,
their second mother. He faced tlie new year, not
ao4
W. MORLEY PUNSMON.
[chap. VIII.
buoyantly, but with a calm trust in God, and a
renewed consecration of himself to the service of
Christ. Another important piece of work was nearly
complete, and on the 10th January he writes : —
Journal.
" Finished my lecture on Wedey. Very far from what I had hoped,
but I have sincerely laboured to place him in a just light before the
world. Lord ! I give it to Thy service, imploring Thy blessing upon its
dehvery. Exercised much about my eldest boy.
^^Jamumj 2ith. — During the week have parted with Morley and John
William to school ; and have heard of the death of John Coulthard, in
New Zealand, and of the serious illness of Mrs. John Vickers, at Thirsk,
So life is made up ; parting and sorrow seem woven largely into it. But
there is a life which abideth."
This reference to his sons may serve to recall
what is so easily forgotten, the sacrifice of family
life involved in such a course as Mr. Punshon's.
Father and children pay the price of this between
them, and i^ is often the very costliest item in
the sacrifice, as it is the one least considered by
those who reap the benefit. Bodily fatigue, mental
strain, the wear and tear of constant travelling
and exhausting public services, — these can in some
measure be estimated by those who watch a man's
career; but the privation to himself and his family
involved in his frequent absence, the grievous
attenuating of that happy intimacy between father
and children which is joy to him, and health and
safety to them — of this the world knows not, nor
cares to know. The flying visits to his own home
serve at once to renew and to disappoint his yearn-
ings for closer and more continuous companionship
with those he loves. They may disclose symptoms
physical, mental, moral, that ha would fain watcli
i862.]
LETTERS TO HIS DA UGHTER.
205
over ; but he is due two hundred miles away to-
morrow, and somewhere else the day after; he is
anuounced in Manchester, or expected in Bristol, he
has to lecture in Birmingham, or preach in Hull, or
attend the missionary anniversary in Leeds, and it
will be late on Saturday before he sets foot on
his own threshold again, wearied, and, it may be,
burdened and depressed. And this goes on year
after year, and the children pass from the nursery
to the schoolroom, and thence out into the world,
having had small possession of their father, with loss
of much wholesome happiness, and oftentimes with
loss of much beside. What it costs him thus to
Hve away from his children he may perhaps be able
to reckon ; what it may cost them it is beyond his
power to compute.
Some glimpses of Mr. Punshon's thought and
feehng for his children may be seen in his letters to
his daughter, his much-loved, delicate little Fanny.
He writes to her, a tiny child: —
" It is always a great pleasure to papa to hear of his little girl, whom
he loves so very dearly, and he is very grateful to his kind friends who
are taking such care of his only little girl. Fanny must be ready to leave
Headingley next Monday, as papa hopes to go to Llandudno in Wales.
I hope you are very good, and do not forget to pray to God through His
dear Son Jesus to make you a good girl."
Again, a year or so later : —
"GtlERNSEY.
" I was 80 glad to receive your canny note. It was very nicely written,
and very correct'y spelt, except Gloucestershire, in which you left out the
two letters that have the stroke underneath. This is such a beautiful
island. The flowers arc very fine, and the sea «o blue, and the trees so
green that it looks like a little paradise. It will be very nice to have
ferns of your gathering.
zo6
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. VIII.
" Railway Carriage.
" Many happy returns of the day to my own dear little Tibbie. May
she grow Htronger, and better year by year. That is the first thing papa
says from Warrim/tun on this memorable 4th of December.
" The carriage is full of people. Besides papa and Aunt Fanny, there is
a young lady, a gentleman, his wife, his servant, a little girl about three
years old, and nuch a fat little baby. We are just leaving Newton Bridge.
Aunt Fanny has just had a comfortable nap, and is as well as can be
expected. I shall perhaps write a little more when I get to Preston,
We have passed Wigan, and Preston, nd Lancaster, and the Juuction
for Kendal and Windermere, and are now toiling up a steep incline over
the Shap Fells. Our company have left us, so Aunt Fanny and I are
alone in the carriage. It is quite dark outside, and I am writing by the
light of the lamp in the carriage. We are now ' going down hill,' like
Betsy. Poor Betsy ! Penrith is passed, and wo are hastening on to
Carlisle. Oh, dear ! it is rainy and windy. Much love, dear little
Tibbie, from your papa."
" Bristol.
" My darling child, may Heaven's best blessing rest upon you on this
birthday, and through the whole of your a£ier-life. Many may wish this
for you, but none so fervently as your own papa, who loves you so
dearly, and who has prayed for you so often, and whose heart has been
made not a little glad by your early decision for God. Taught by His
good Spirit, you will not regard your birthday as a day of frivolous or
light amusement, but of sober gratitude, of humiliation at the feet of
Jesus, of loving trust in His atonement, and of new consecration to His
service. Then all other joy, — of letters, of presents, of home and friends,
will be made more beautiful by the joy of the Lord. God has greatly
favoured you, Fanny darling ; many advantages are yours of which others
know nothing, and many restraints from which others unhappily are free.
Do not accustom yourself to take your mercies as matters of course, but
recognise their Giver, the great bountiful Giver of all good. Determine
this day that, by the help of God, you will strive against all that is
indolent, and thoughtless, and selfish, and repining, and be a true disciple
of Jesus Christ. God bless you, my beloved child, and make you a
blessing for many years to come."
On the 3rd of February, 1863, Mr. Pimshon
f'elivered iiis lecture on Wedey and his Times. Once
iigain Exeter Hall was crowded in every part loug
before the appointed hour, and the enthusiasm of
the hearers rose to its wonted height. It is indeed
1863.] LECTURE: " WESLEY AND HIS TIMES:' 207
almost surprising that he had not taken the subject
before. It was one that appealed alike to his general
and to his particular convictions. He held John
Wesley to be the foremost man in modem Christian
history ; and if there was a greater and a better since
the days of the apostles, he did not know his name.
The Wesleyan tradition was to him one of unmingled
sanctity and beauty, and he himself had come, in the
providence of God, to fill a chief place in Wesley's
community, and to be a representative to multitudes
outside of the doctrines and of the institutions with
which Wesley's name was associated. Nothing
could be more fitting than that he should tell in his
own way the story of Wesley's life and labours, and
point the moral of his great career. Nor would it be
easy to find a subject better suited to his powers. It
furnished abundance of stirring and picturesque
incident ; the aspects of religious faith disclosed
were those with which he was in deepest sympathy.
Wesley's companions came next after their chief in
his admiration and esteem, and to group them
round that central figure was at once a moral and
an oratorio instinct with him. The lessons to be
enforced were just those of which his grasp was
strongest, and, altogether, no subject could be found in
whose atmosphere he was more accustomed to move,
or with whose details he was more familiar. For the
office of historical critic, or critical historian, he was,
perhaps, disqualified by his personal love and loyalty
toward Wesley, if by nothing else ; but for portray-
ing a nrole character, and setting forth in glowing
and impressive periods the rise and progress of the
great Revival, he had quaUfications altogether his own.
208
JV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. VIII.
The lecture may be described as a series of
pictures. They are as follows : — England in the
early part of the eighteenth century, — The Eector
of Epworth, — Susanna Wesley, — John Wesley's Con-
version, — George Whitefield, — Charles Wesley,— A
group of godly men, — Wesley's itinerant labours,—
His character, — His many-sided work, — Application.
Of these pictures, probably the description of
Susanna the mother of John and Charles Wesley,
and that of Whitefield, left the deepest impression,
The conclusion of the latter may be quoted : —
" All description must fail to make us realise his wonderful power,
unless we could transfer the countenance, and fix the flashing eye and
sweeping hand upon the page. And this power was not, as has been
said, ' the power of the cambric handkerchief or of the simulated tear.'
He could not help being an orator, but he aimed to be an evangelist ; and
so great was his success that he is said in one week to have received a
thousand letters from those who had been blessed by his ministry. He
had no great grasp of mind, nor was he born to organise or to command,
' I hate to head a party. If I were to raise societies, I should only be
weaving a Penelope's web.' These were his words. When he went to
Scotland he was received by the Associate Presbytery, who were about
to elect a moderator, and proceed to business. ' What about ? ' he asked,
They told him it was to set him right on some matters of Church govern
ment. He answered that they might save themselves the trouble ; that
his time was wanted for highways and hedges, and that, if the pope him-
self would only lend his pulpit, he would gladly preach the righteousness
of Christ therein. His work was preaching, and he knew it. The pulpit
was his throne, and never monarch filled a regal seat with kingliei
presence. Worn down with labour, the physician prescribed a perpetual
blister. He says he tried perpetual preaching, and found that it answered
as well. When winter prevented his journeys he mourned like a smitten
child ; when spring opened his way he bounded to his beloved labour, j
glad as a gazelle upon the hills. His seal had for its device a winged
heart, soaring above the globe, with the motto, '■ Astra 'pdamns ;' ^
this was emblematic of the business to which he had consecrated his life,
' I hope to die in the pulpit, or at least soon after I come out of it. It is I
your cowardly Christians, who have borne no witness while they lift
whom God honours at the last. I shall die in silence ; my testimouy bi' I
,863.] LECTURE: " WESLEY AND HIS TIMESr 209
been given in my life.' Such was his language as, after thirty-four
years of labour, he gathered himself up for what proved a final dis-
course. For two hours, though he had recently suffered from the cruel
asthma which destroyed him, he spoke with a pathos and power which he
had never surpassed, to a people who lingered ''ke the hosts on Carmel,
and as if they knew that for another Elijah there awaited a chariot of
fire. The pavement and entrance-hall of the house in which he lodged
were thronged with people, who craved a parting word. Exhausted with
his labours, he requested another minister to speak to them, and with the
candle in his hand was ascending the stairs to rest. Suddenly he turned,
and, as if with a sense of opportunity rapidly vanishing, and of moments
more precious than gold, addressed them from the stairway, and paused
not in his labour of love until the candle burn ed down into the socket as
he held it in his hands. The next morning ho was not. In the night the
messenger came, and, like his Master, he ascended from the summit of
the mountain of prayer. Such was George Whitefield, strangely reviled
in his day, but whom time has amply avenged :—
" ' We need not now, beneath well-sounding Greek,
Conceal the name the poet dared not speak.'
His praise is in all the Churches, and he belongs to them all. You can
no more chain him to a sect than you can tame the libertine breezes or
control the wilful spring. The works that follow the good man will keep
his memory green, and cause his fame to grow, until world-wide as his
benevolence and his ministry shall be the estimation in which he is held ;
and ages yet unborn, as they read the marvel of his life, shall bless God
for the prince of preachers, this noblest, grandest embodiment of the
Revelation angel, who ' flies through the midst of heaven having the
I everlasting Gospel to preach to every nation and people and tongue.' "
The lecture was delivered a second time in Exeter
I Hall to a similar audience a fortnight later, the
[proceeds being devoted to his '' Watering-Places
[Fund." About the same time he found it necessary
|to write to the Watchman and Recorder to con-
tradict the report that he had already raised between
^3,000 and £4,000 of the sum required. ''He
found the difficulties in the way quite serious
Enough without their being increased by the
pirculation of statements that would be very
14
aio
W. MQRLRY PUNSTION.
[CHAP. VIII,
gratifying if they were not so far in advance of the
truth."
Among tlie " diflicultieH " to wliioli Mr. Puiishon
refers was the " Cotton Famine," whioli told so
heavily upon the resources of Lancashire, and at
the same time drew upon the assistance of the whole
country. To feed the hungry and clothe the naked
was a Christian duty that took precedence, for the
time being, of every other. The " Cotton Famine"
was followed by the commercial panic of 1866 ; while,
in addition to these losses sustained by the com-
munity at large, special and unexpected claims were
developed within the bounds of Methodism, — claims
that made strong appeal to the liberality of the
people, and thus came into competition, almost iuto
collision, with Mr. Punshon's undertaking.
It says much for his faith and courage that he
neither abandoned his task, nor looked askance at
the new schemes which made its accomplishment
so much more difficult.
In spite of the burdens that weighed upon him,
he gave the response of willing and effective service
to the Jubilee Missionary movement of 18G3, aud
the Metropolitan Chapel Building Fund of 1865.
His answer to everything that hindered or com-
plicated his task was : —
" Yet I argue not
Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer
Bight onward."
Among the minor trials of his life, to which he
would allude with mingled vexation and amusement,
were the reporters who tracked him from place to
186,1.1
" UNLICENSED PRINTINGr
an
plfico. Fow tliiiif^s diHfcurbed liim more wlien
preaciliiiig than the siglit of a Rhorthand writer,
often just in front of liini, notebook in one liand and
svviftly-ilyiug pencil in the other. It ** froze the
genial current of his soul " to see that unabashed
professional at work, and to know that *' unlicensed
printing" would bo the next stage of his larceny.
Sometimes a sermon that he hoped to preach again
was boldly taken from him by a verbatim report
in tlie colunms of a popular religious journal ; or a
botched and bungled version would appear that
set his very teeth on edge by its vagaries of doctrine
and atrocities of style. In the spring of 1803 some
publisher thought fit to put forth a volume of ex-
tracts from his sermons, speeches, and lectures,
under the title of hife Thouglits, by Rev. W.
Morley Punshon. The only redress for what he
felt as a grievance was to disclaim all responsibility
for this production, and he wrote to the Methodist
Recorder : —
•'I know nothing of a volume entitled Life Thowihts which I am said
to have issued from the press. My consent has not been asked for
its publication, nor was any information given to me that it was going to
be published."
Journal.
'^Jannari/ 31s^— God bless my eldest boy on this his birthday. Teach
liis young heart Thy law, and incline him to love and serve Thee. A
week of considerable work and steady trust in Christ. Father Hobson,
of Taunton, suddenly summoned, as it would seem, from his knees to
heaven.
" February 21.s<.— Privileged to re-deliver my lecture, and during this
Teek to preach Christ at Bedford and Woolwich. Shocked and startled
by the sudden death of John Clough, from epilepsy, on his way out
to Sydney. Dr. Ounton, too, is suddenly snatched from his loving
family at a time when he seemed most to be needed.
212
W. MO R LEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. VIII.
" March llU. — A wook of excitement. An exciting Book-coniinitt«v
meeting on Monday. Abwent from home until Friday in Manchester.
Bolton, and Liverpool, and to-day celebrating the public entry Into
London of the Princess Alexandra. Find it difficult amid these excite-
ments to stay my soul upon God, though they have their uses and uee<|
not be unprofitable. It was something grand and yet solemn to see thone
masses of people, crowds upon crowdS; and to ponder what each of them
really is, and what each of them will become. ... I am an enigma to
myself.
" March 14/A. — Pleased with my Bible-class yesterday. Not satisfied
with the state of the Societies, though there has been a small increase
during the quarter. I long for the baptism of the Holy Ghost upon our
Church.
" Airril 2bth. — Death is busy in the midst of us. Mrs. Powis interred
to-day, and from her funeral I was summoned to the dying hed of
Mrs. 8 , who, a few hours afterwards, passed away. When I saw her
she was in darkness, at least her light was fitful and troubled. She
seemed, however, to be looking only to Jesus. Oh, how precious He is!
\Vliat would become of us, poor, helpless, forlorn, doubting creatures,
without Christ ? Led to many searchings of heart on account of mj
own timid faith and many shortcomings. But Thou wilt not break the
bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax."
The anniversary of the Missionary Society, whether
Mr. Punshon took active part in its services or not,
always interested him deeply. For many years
his public work might be classified under three
heads : — Preaching the Gospel, Lecturing, and the
Advocacy of Christian missions. During his three
years in the Islington Circuit, years of vast and
varied labours, his journal shows that he addi'essed
no less than fifty-five missionary meetings. The
annual meeting in Exeter Hall seemed incomplete
without him, and the ofiicials learned that there was
no better way of keeping the audience together to
the last than to reserve Mr. Punshon for the closing
speech. On these occasions he was accustomed to
refer to the men who had been removed by death
during the year. It was an instinct of his nature, I
1 863.]
MISSIONARY MEETINGS.
213
strengthened by the habit of years, that carried liis
thoughts to those who, since the last assembling, had
been summoned to their rest. His reverent awe of
death d'^epened rather than diminished as life went
on, and whether it were an entry in his private
journal or a public tribute to the honoured or
beloved dead, it was never made without emotion.
At the anniversary of 1862 he said : —
" I need only remind you that Thomas Farmer no longer smiles
benignly at us from the right hand of th' chair. I do not need to ask
your sympathy on behalf of such men as Carter, Tindall, and Pearse.
But the name I am about to mention is well known in the annals of the
WcHlcyan Missionary Society. When I think that he who bore it spent
long years in the West India Islands ; when 1 think that his shrewd,
sagucious, telling testimony was given with effect before Committees of
the House of Commons on the great question of slavery ; when I think
that he laboured long, assiduously, and well in our Methodism, I feel that
I miss the sunny smile, the athletic intellect, the right noble soul of
Peter Duncan.''
The following year there were other names to
record.
"We are again reminded that at the roll-call there are some who do
not answer to their names ; and it would be unworthy of us if we were
to forbear our tribute to the comrades who have fallen in the field, and
over whom has been fired the solemn funeral gun. There are multitudes
of hearts on both sides of the Atlantic, appreciative of rare manliness and
unusual discretion, by whom the name of Joseph Stinson will not be
suffered willingly to die. From the far Ceylon there has come lamenta-
tion over the grave of Daniel Gogerly, whose rare Oriental scholarship
has made him famous even among those who opposed and derided his
religion. I would not forget to-day that under the quaint old walls of
Carisbrook Calvert Spencely has lingered out his life during the year — a
brave soldier, too early smitten down. And, remembering my own first
trembling appearance on this platform, I am led to sorrow that the blunt
good sense and straightforward Yorkshire welcome of Thomas Wade will
be heard in our meetings no more."
Journal.
" Muy t^Oi. — Thanks to the good Providence and Grace of God which
214
IV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. Vlll.
have brought me to the close of anothei- year of my life. The retrospect
awakens my deepest gratitude, and at the same time saddens and humbles
me. How uselessly I seem to have lived ; how small the progress I have
made in the inner life. . . . Out of the depths I cry to Thee, my own,
my only, my all-sufficient Saviour.
" June 21th. — Blessed by the good Providence of God during a fort-
night's absence in Ireland, where I have been attending the Irish
Conference. Delivered in a railway accident which might have been,
but was not, aeriouS; — the tender to the engine getting ' off the line.
Much impressed with the self-denial and cheerful sacrifice of the Irisb
preachers. On the whole, enabled to learn lessons which I trust may
profit me. Spared to come home and find my dear ones in health. I
would renew the expressior of my gratitude to the God Who has
preserved, and to the Christ Who has redeemed me.
^^ July Qth. — An article in the Wesleyan Spectator severely reflecting on
my style of preaching, and insinuating that there is no food in it for the
hungry, nor comfort for the sorrowful, nor edification for the perplexed
or inquiring, nothing but sweet-meat preaching. My first thought, on
reading this attack, I thank God, was ' What can I learn from it ? ' I am
conscious that I am more likely to hear the truth from .an enemy than
from a friend Closely searching my own heart, however, I cannot plead
guilty tr. the charges ; and, as if to console me under an accusation as
false as it is cruel, I received a most touching letter the same evening
from a poor widow brought to God under my ministry of "ate.
" July 25th. — Incessantly at work, but enabled to keep my heart stayed
upon God. John William Foster very dangerously ill of typhus fever.
Busy preparing for Conference ; feel as if there could be but little
pleasure, as our home is lost to us. Think of taking lodgings. Am
down in the stations as Superintendent for next year. Lord ! help,
strengthen, save."
The Conference assembled in Carver Street Chapel,
Sheffield, on the 20th July. Dr. Osborn was elected
President, and Mr. Farrar Secretary. As one of the
letter- writers, and financial secretary of the London
district, Mr. Punshon was fully engaged throughout
its session. He was able to report satisfactory
progress with regard to his Watering-Places Fimd,
and a committee was appointed to administer it,
as it was not thought necessary to wait until the
entire sum was raised, before proceeding with its
1863.J JUBILEE OF THE MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 215
distribution. Time was saved, and the objects for
which the fund was originated were rapidly advanced.
The chief event of the Conference of 1863 was the
scheme devised for celebrating the jubilee of the
Wesleyan Missionary Society. That society was
formed in Leeds in October 1813, and it was felt that
the growth and influence of Methodist missions
throughout the world during the fifty years called
for special thanksgiving to God, and presented a fit
opportunity for large and liberal extension of the
work. The Conference heartily accepted the pro-
posals for a jubilee celebration, and the feeling kindled
and spread through the entire Connexion. All pre-
parations were made, and early in October the jubilee
movement was initiated by a remarkable series
of services held in Leeds. On Sunday morning,
October 4th, Mr. Punshon preached in Oxford
Place to more than three thousand people, hun-
dreds more trying in vain to gain admission. His
text was Luke xxiv. 45-48, "... that repentance
and remission of sins should be preached in His name
among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." In the
evening he preached to another vast congregation in
St. Peter's Chapel. The following evening he heard
the liev. William Naylor preach at Armley, where,
just fifty years before, the first sermon in behalf of the
Wesloyan Missionary Society had been preached by
the Kov. James Buckley. Mr. Naylor was the only
sm-viviug minister who had been present at that first
service ; and now, in the eighty-first year of his age,
having completed sixty years in the ministry, the
venerable man ctood before a new generation to
declare, on behalf of fathers who had passed away,
2l6
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. vin.
the wonderful works that God had done in then* days,
and in the old time before them. At the close of the
sermon Mr. Arthur addressed the congregation, and
a collection was made amounting to upwards of j£800.
Mr. Punshon remained in Leeds throughout that
memorable week, and amongst the men who took
part in the services were Mr. Thomas Jackson, Dr.
Dixon, Dr. Osborn, Dr. Waddy, Mr. Arthur, Mr.
Thornton, Mr. Prest. The jubilee movement was
now well begun, but it had yet to be carried through
the country, involving no slight addition to the
burdens he was already carrying.
Journal.
" August 29th. — Returned home last evening after five weeks' absence
at Conference, and subsequently at Scarborough. Poor John William
Foster died the day after I went to Sheffield, so that a gloom was thrown
over our whole sojourn there. The Conference passed ofE well. The
President did most admirably. The public services were well attended,
and in many cases souls were converted to God. I was humbled and
rebuked because the Lord blessed my own ministiy. For the most part
preserved in patience and purity, but on one occasion lost self-control, and
spoke unguardedly with my tongue.
" September 5th. — A week of much activity, in connection mainly with
ticket-giving in my own Circuit. My colleagues have arrived (Revdj.
Benjamin Frankland and Josiah Pearson). May God send us a prosper-
ous year. Depressed by the low condition of the Society, and by the
decrease in numbers. A partial amende in the Spectator so far as purity
of motive is concerned. Men cannot think of me more lowly than I feel.
but from the depths I cry to be made useful in God's hands, and fit for
His presence for ever.
" September I9th. — A most extraordinary visitation of God in connection
with a Ministers' Prayer-Meeting which we held at the Book-room on
Monday to seek God's blessing upon ourselves and our congregations
during the year. Surely the blessing will come after such an earnest, I
question whether I ever heard anything equal in power to Dr. Waddj's
prayer.
" October I'Sth. — During the whole of last week I was in Leeds, at the
inauguration of the jubilee. It was a hallowed time. I felt unworthy to
participate in the great doings. Oh ! may the Lord make us who have
,863] JUBILEE OF THE MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 217
to take the banner, its faithful and valiant bearers. £30,000 raised with-
out ostentation and without haste."
Before the close of the year he took part in the
jubilee meetings held at Manchester, Liverpool,
Sheffield, Newcastle, and York.
Journal.
^'November 7th. — Very much engaged with the various jubilee meetings.
A blessed influence in Manchester ; £12,000 added to the sum formerly
obtained. Good Dr. Camplin suddenly called away.
"Norember \4th. — Blessed in Liverpool at the jubilee meeting, and con-
strained to thank God for any knowledge of His will, and for the power
of His grace. The 10th was to me a memorable day. I seemed to come
nearer to my beloved one than I have been for some time, and to realise
the companionship of ' the spirits of the just made perfect," in ' coming
to Mount Zion.'
"November 21st. — Travelling during the week. At the Sheffield jubilee
meeting, and privileged to lecture in my native town, and stand by my
mother's grave. Found J. W. ill in Sheffield, and Gervase very ill at
Alwyne Road. Depressed by family trouble, and harassed by Church
an.xieties, but trying to stay myself in God. Much to contend against in
my own heart, and with the world. But my springs are in the Lord.
" December Srd. — Much engaged during the last week or two with jubilee
and other services. Still troubled at home : servants vexatious, Fannj''s
health languishing. J. W. slowly mending — besides the care of all the
Churches."
Mr. Punshon's appointment to the Islington Circuit
terminated at the Conference of 1864, and the latter
part of it was spent in the busy routine that was
now so well established. As Superintendent he was
more occupied in administration than heretofore, and
his duties as Financial Secretary of the district brought
him, at certain seasons of the year, great additions of
work. Pressed by the requirements of his '' Fund,"
he lectured more thr^i ever, aud with the exception
of one or two enforced rests, did not relax for months
together the strain of physical and nervous toil. He
2l8
IV. MORLEY PUNSIION.
[CHAK VIII.
was now in the prime of life, and undoubtedly pos-
sessed great strength, but he was drawing upon it
too lavishly. The lifelong tendency to depression
was strengthened by the exhausting reaction which
from time to time followed his efforts, and brought
him into morbid conditions of mind and body,
Family affairs caused him much anxiety, and certain
characteristics of his own inner life prevented his
" being exalted above measure." Seldom has a man
of such abounding popularity been more effectually
weighted by burdens of which the world knew nothing.
Partly from stress of work, and partly from the
causes just referred to, his journal was discontinued
during the year 1864, with the exception of two or
three brief entries at intervals of several months.
His letters to Mr. Hirst, who had removed to York,
supply a few details of the period during which the
journal is silent, and they show with what warmth
of affection he clung to his friend and former
colleague.
Letters to Rev. W. Hirst.
" March lOth, 1864.
" This letter means business. I have just heard that there is to be a
Mi.ssionary Anniversary this year a matter about which until yesterday
I had some doubt, as nobody seonu J to have heard a word about it ; and
as the D.D. which graces our present head might well be rendered Doctor
Dubitantium, I thought it possible there might exist in the Prcsidciiti.il
niiud some jubilee reason for postponing the anniversary altogether.
However, there is to be an anniversary, and it would not be complete
unless you were present. Will you come ? Bed ; board for two, on the
moat ample scale that reduced circumstances will allow ; the use of
piano ; the privilege of poking the fire and putting your feet on the
fender ; the extra privilege of taking your meals with the family ; a flower
for your button-hole, a bow for your Avife's bonnet, a latch-key (under
conditions), and the heartiest welcome in all London, — these are
guaranteed, and respectable references given and required I
HAV. VIII.
1864.]
LETTERS TO REV. W. HIRST.
219
" Do come, there's a dear fellow. Fanny wants to see Mrs. Hirst («o do
I) ; /want to see you (so does she), which must constrain your decision.
Send me a speedy letter, saying a whole host of things, but ending with
" ' Yours for a fortnight,
'"William Hikst.'"
" jM«e6rd, 1864.
" We are rusticating here to great advantage amid some of the finest
ordinary scenery in England. I have been two days house hunting. . . .
I feel sick at heart about leaving Islington, and going into a new place.
I am half disposed to repent coming to Clifton, but trust it will be ;ill
right. Many thanks to you for your kind letter and good wishes. You
must pray for me and help me."
Letter to Rev. T. M'Cullagh.
"September mil, 1864.
" I have no cottage in this wilderness, and for another week or ten days
shall have no house, no books, no sermons, no study, ' no nothin','— ' which
I am in lodgings.' "
Letter to Rev. W. Hirst.
" September 2dth, 1864.
" We are grievously disappointed that you are not coming to Clifton^
but you will come some time, will you not ? We are just in our house,
but in the uttermost muddle. It is comfortable, one of the most comfort-
able of country houses, but — it is not London. I have not been at all
well since I came, and have had all the horrors of dyspepsia, but am
gradually mending. It will be another month before we are settled."
Letter to Rf,v. Gervase Smttii.
" November 5th, 1864.
" "VVe are, as you may have heard, renovating Grenville Chapel, and I
am happy to be the medium of a very hearty invitation to you to a'sist
1864.]
SETTLES AT CLIFTON.
223
U8 at the opening Hcrvices, by preaching at Orenvillo and Victoria Chapels
on Sunday, December 4th.
"Gc'rvaso, my dear fellow, you ?«(/«/ come to ur. T believe that by extra
diligence on the part of the Bristol tradoHmen, we shall have our stair-
carpets laid down by then, and all ready for sister Mary Ann as well as
your worshipful self. On the following Thursday the bridge will be
opened. I want cheering up. I am dull, and low, and poorly, and seem
as if I should never be settled.''
Letter to Rev. W. Hikst.
" November Uth, 1864.
"Your dunning letter was very welcome this morning. I cannot do
better than give you the same adjectives I gave Mr. Booth as an excuse
for not writing.
" I am ill, busy, bothered, troubled, cross (in a pious way). My health
has not been at all good since I came here, and the unsettlement and
worry have upset me very much. We are nearly settled now, and I
suppose I shall like it as well as I should like any place out of London,
The people are very kind, the house as good as any I have had, the
study better. The congregations are good. Mr. Shaw is slow and
reserved. It is probable that whether he is President or not, he will
leave next year. Will you come and be my young man ? My great
trouble, however, has been J. W. He blew himself up with gunpowder
one Sunday morning at the College, just ten minutes after a lecture
from the Governor about the powder question. I have removed him,
and he is now at Mr. Vipond's. I am convinced he would do no good at
the College. He is better, and will not be much marked, but it has been
a sore trial to me. I have written Dr. Gunton's memoir, and written a
sermon twenty six pages long for City Road. I have, therefore, been busy.
That 1 could forget you, or think less of you, is not likely ; but if you dont
come down some time before next Conference, and see me at Clifton, I
declare I'll try. ... I am taking care of myself, — witness my work : to-
mon'ow Newbury ; Wednesday and Thursday, London ; Friday, Swindon ;
Sunday, Bideford ; Tuesday, Launceston ; Wednesday, Weston ; Thurs-
day, Hill Top ; Friday, Birmingham. Nothing on Monday, you see, nor
on Saturday ! "
The sermon referred to was prepared in the interest
of the Metropolitan Chapel Building Fund, and
delivered to a crowded congregation in City Eoad
Chapel on the 16th of November, and again, by
special request, three months later in Great Queen
Street Chapel.
224
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. IX.
The Fund had been in existence some three
and a half years, and during that time had pro-
moted the erection of thirteen chapels. Its opera-
tion had disclosed to some of the more discerning
leaders of the Connexion, such as Sir Francis
Lycett and Sir William (then Mr.) M' Arthur,
Mr. Arthur, and Mr. Punshon, the possibility of a
new era of extension and influence for Methodism in
London, — a possibility since realised on a very large
scale.* It was now determined to lay the whole
question of chapel-building in London before the
people, to widen the organisation, and give a new
impetus to the undertaking ; and Mr. Punshon was
requested to advocate it from the pulpit. The sermon
which he preached will be foimd in the second series
of his published sermons, under the title, Spiritual
Wants of the Metropolis. An extract or two will
show with what earnestness he threw himself into
the subject, and with what power he pleaded on
behalf of the great cit3'.
" We are apt to talk loosely about London as a great city, and we have
thought, perhaps until we have been bewildered, upon its size, upon its
startling contrasts of wealth and want, of ostentation and outlawry, of
charity and crime. But how few of us have any definite idea of the mass
of our fellows who are daily living, hoping, toiling, suffering, and dying
within the one hundred and twenty square miles of which London is
composed ! ' A city '? ' says a noted French writer ; — ' no, it is a province
covered with houses.' And this is feeble to express its greatness, for
there are twice as many souls in London as in the largest division of
France, and a million more than in the most crowded county of England.
Five times more populous than St. Petersburgh, twice more than
Constantinople, having two-thirds more inhabitants than Paris, and one-
fourth more than even the hiving multitudes of Pekin, the mind fails
* Up to the Conference of 1886, the Metropolitan Chapel Building
Fund had assisted in the erection of sixty-eight chapels in London and
its suburbs.
1864.] SPIRITUAL WANTS OF T/f/C tJETROPOrjS, 225
to comprehend it, the brain recoils from tha contomp'ntion of the Hum.
How shall we get to understand it? Weigh it with kingdoms. The
Kinjfs of Hanover, and Saxony, and Wilrtemberg do not, any ono of
them, rt'ign over as many subjects as our Queen rules in this her chief
city of London. Try it by its own growth. Wo do not ask you to go
back to the time wben Druids drank at the Wallbrook, and when the
Fleet was a rushing water in which Saxons were baptized, and on whose
l)08om floated navies of merchantmen. Come to later times. When
John Wycliffe lived, a light shining in a dark place, there were not so
many people in all England, by half a million, as will sleep to-night in
London.
" There are every night homeless ones wandering through its streets, or
huddling to its refuges of charity, equal to the population of many
a thriving village, and of more than ono Parliamentary Borough ; while,
if the liouses which hold its population were put side by side, you would
have one continuous street, with the tenants at one end listening to the
chimes of York minster, and the tenants at the other end slumbering
under the shadow of the Pyrenees. Think of it by its periodical increase.
If it were supposable thkt all who come into London in a year were to be
drafted thither from one place, then, in a single year, Guernsey would be
like Tyre in her ruin, ' desolate, and without inhabitant ; ' the lovely
Isle of Wight would in two years be an Eden with scarce an Adam to
till it ; and several Scottish shires would have their broad acres cleared,
one after another, as effectually as feudal laird could wish. Conceive it
by its daily waste and supply. Every eight minutes throughout every
day of every year a soul departs out of London to its account before the
great Judge ; but the havoc of death is more than neutralised by the
greater marvel and activity of life, for in every five minutes in some
London household a child is born. And finally — to bring home to you
the vastness of this little world — remember, that out of every thousand
people the great world has in it two of them are Londoners, and that if
ite inhabitants were drawn up in marching order, walking two and two,
the line would stretch for six hundred and seventy miles, and at the
speed of three miles an hour it would be nine days and nights before the
last of the long procession had swept by. And it is ihu London for
ffhich we plead— vast, bewildering, terrible — with a hum and tramp of
sound which deafen us, but which swell up to God — a voice of need
which yearns for a succour that it cannot find — a voice of sorrow wailing
before the All-Merciful One, which surely moves His heart to say, as erst
of Nineveh, Should I not spare that great city, wherein are more than six-
score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and
their left hand?"
The plea for an earnest effort to bring the power
15
226
ir. MORLEY PUNSIION.
[chap. IX.
of Christiiinity to bear upon the population contains
the following : —
"Ft hivs boon Haiti that tho highoHt life is dovelopod in cities; that
amidst tlioir opiMn-tuniticH humanity grows to its tallest intellfclual
stature ; and that from their attritionH mind is sharpened into its kceiicttt
brightness. Bo thin as it may, it is certain that tho moral nature h in
cities exposed to i'-.s fiercest trials ; and where the influence of numbers
can so easily ho realised, the dangers of its perversion become propor-
tionately greater. Where desperate men herd together in masHcs they
have the greater power of mischief. Hence, if there bo no Christian
teaching, no leavening of the city with tho hidden virtue of tlie Gospel,
there is danger to the Commonwealth — danger to peace, character,
property, life. A high morality, a healthy public sentiment, is the only
political safeguard of a city like London. It is for the weal of the Htite,
then, to multiply your temples of worship, where the rich are tiiught to
bo lowly, and the poor to be contented ; where each is reminded that he
has duties as well as rights ; and where the altar is shown to be the surest
safeguard to the throne.
" And this is not a matter to which the provinces should be indifferent.
It has been acutely said that ' France is the nation of a great city, but
that London is the city of a great nation.' Everywhere, to the farthest
verge of the green isles, there are relations with London. The provinces
send up of their fairest, of their most gifted, in ceaseless immigration ;
and the re -action is almost equal, for it is said to be rare to meet with
a Londoner of the third generation. The fortunes made there are spent
in the country ; and thus the mighty tide of life is ceaseless in its ebh
and flow. Brethren, I commend to you the work of this and like
societies for your country's sake. The truest ' substance ' of the land is
' the holy seed.' Let the Word of God sound out in your streets. Get
your youth impressed with the power of the Gospel. You will do your
country a better service than to line her fields with armies, or to make her
seaboard bristle with cannon. You will raise up for her a defence surer
than that of crag or bastion — you will girdle her round with a rampart of
sanctified mind."
This appeal was delivered with the customary
energy and power, and produced a deep impression.
Its argument taken as a whole, and in most of its
details, is as applicable, to say the least, to the
Church's work in the London of to-day as it was
then.
:iiAP. IX.
1865.]
A NEW r.KCTURK.
••7
ontains
itics ; that
ntelK'ctual
its keenest
ature h in
if numbers
ne propor-
tiiiSKCH they
3 Christian
the Gospel,
, character,
is the only
of the Rtate,
•e tiiughtto
dccl that he
je the surest
) indifferent,
sat city, but
the farthest
he provinces
mmigration ;
to meet with
ire are spent
in its ebb
lis and like
the land is
itreets. Get
Iwill do your
to make her
^ef ence surer
a rampart of
istomary
ipression.
)8t of its
to the
18 it was
liofore the year cloHed lio iuldressod a letter to the
liecordcr on the subject of liis Watering- PlaceH
Fund, — a burden and a responsibility wiiich was witli
liiiii constantly, whatever else might come and go.
' iiin soniowhiit afraid lest, among the nohlo ontorprises which our
.It'll is undertaking, my friends may forget the one in which I am
siHJcially intoroHtod. The necessity for a bettor state of things in
connection with Methodism in our watering-phices is admitted on all
li:uida. The energy with which schemes of improvement have been
projected nearly all round the coast, with the hope of assistance from the
fund which it is proposed to raise, shows that the need is felt, and that
the movement has been entered upon at the right time. The zeal of our
friends is indeed somewhat excessive, as some of the applications are
hiLsed upon the definition of a ' Watering-Place ' as a place where there
iH water. The committee have considered about twenty cases already,
and nearly half the entire £lt),0()0 has been conditionally granted.
" I could scarcely have prophesied the Lancashire distress. I thouLOit
the Metropolitan Chapel Building Fund was pretty well floated, and I
hid forgotten the Jubilee. I mention these things, not to constitute an
il ad iiiixericordium, but to explain why the work has been a little
'therto.' My removal from London has of necessity nui rowed my
ci.. -jes both of access and success, and though I have no w '1, and no
need, to sue in formd jtauperia, I have no objection that my liiends who
have a good will to me and my work should step in and lighten my
labour."
Letter to Rev. W. Hirst.
'' Jannanj 2Ut, 1865.
'' I have wanted to write to you for a long time, but have not seen my
w.ay until my lecture was finished, which desirable event took place l.ii^t
evenini} ; but it is a dry, prosy affair, and will do me ro credit, I fear. I
have written it twice over, because I made it too lonif, and had to con-
dense terribly. It will be delivered in Leeds (u.v.) on February 24th,
If you can get a bed, I will send you a ticket, that is, if you v'ould deem
it worth coming so far to hear. . . . Well, I suppose the newspapers
wll be still for a while now. Having made Mr. Tennyson a baronet.
married the Princess Mary, and sent me to Australia, they have com-
mitted slaughter enough for one vacation surely."
"•January 26th, 1865.
" I tried the lecture at Warminster on Tuesday. (As I don't think
your geography has gone so far, permit to tell you that it is in Wiltshire,
i
228
IV. MO R LEY PUNSHON.
[chap. IX.
and a Circuit town !) It is, as I said, a simple story, nothing to create
much enthusiasm, scarcely anything which can be called a climax, no
pretension, little poetry, but written in a plain, clear style, with an
unwonted number of Saxon words."
The lecture referred to was entitled Wilberforce,
his Life, Work, and Fellow -ivorhmen. After the
preliminary trial at Warminster, it was delivered
in Exeter Hall, on February Tth, 1865. In spite
of his modest disclaimer, Wilberforce was pitched
throughout on as high a level as Macaulay or
the Huguenots — the lectures with which it will
naturally be compared. The crowd that filled every
corner of the hall was as eager, as susceptible, as
responsive as ever. There was all the range and
variety of narrative and portraiture, of humour,
pathos, and declamation, to which people were now
so well accustomed, and no diminution of the power
with which they wrought upon the hearers. One
who was present writes, " I have never seen such
an audience held by such an irresistible spell for
two hours."
Plunging into his subject with an artistic and
effective abruptness, he pictured the spectacle of
a funeral procession wending its w^ay through the
vast crowd to Westminster Abbey. Among the
pall-bearers were the Speaker of the House of
Commons, the Lord High Chancellor, and one
of the princes of the blood. Among the mourners
were members of both Houses of Parliament,
bishops of the Church, and ministers of the state,
men the highest in rank, and the most renowned
in fame. Nor were these gorgeous obsequies the
only tribute paid to William Wilbeefokce on the
1865.]
LECTURE: " WILDERFORCEr
229
day of his burial. In the language of his son, " It
was liis nobler portion to clothe a people with spon-
taneous mourning, and to go down to the grave
amid the benedictions of the poor."
Beginning, then, the story of his life, he sketched
the earlier days of William Wilberforce, his boy-
hood, college course, and entrance into Parliament
a few weeks after his twenty-first birthday. * The
rise and progress of religion in his soul ' — to describe
the great spiritual change through which he passed
iu the words which are the title of Doddridge's
well-known work, the main instrument in his con-
version — is described with sympathetic warmth.
That which was lacking in the life-history of his
other hero, Macaulay, gives the key to that of Wilber-
force, and becomes the ruling influence of his whole
career; and it was this which gave Mr. Punshon
free and unqualified delight in his theme, instead
of an admiration that was mingled with pain and
embarrassmeat. The thoroughness of Wilberforce's
religious decision gave occasion for one more utter-
ance in the strain which recurs in his addresses
perhaps more frequently than any other, — the duty
of confessing Christ, and openly assuming the life of
disciplesliip : —
"With the accidents of birth and station in his favour, with youth
upon his aide, fortune at his feet, and fame and power within the grasp
of his outstretched hand — when life was in its summer, and he was com-
pasaed, so to speak, with its gladness, and music, and flowers — with
everything at hand which it is deemed the most costly to surrender — ho
stepped forth in the sight of the world, for which his name had already
a charm, took the crown of his manhood, and laid it humbly at the feet
of Christ. I can see in the act a courage of that sort which is the truest
and rarest, but which is, notwithstanding, within the reach of you all
I he true idea of power is not embodied in Hercules or Siimson, brute
i^o
m MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. IX.
forces with brute appetites, takers of strong cities, but slaves to their own
passion. Nor is it in the brave soldier who can storm a fortress at the
point of the bayonet, but who yields his manhood to the enticements
of sinners, and hides the faith which the scoffer's sneer has made him
frightened 1 avow. The real power is there when a man has mastered
himself, when he has trampled upon the craven and the shameful in all
their disguises, and when, ready on all fit occasions to bear himself
worthily among his fellows, and ' give the world assurance of a man,'
he dares to say to that world, the while it scorns and slanders him,
• I will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast
set up.' "
Wilberforce's parliamentary life gave the lecturer
opportunity for introducing a series of vivid and
telling sketches of the foremost personages in the
House of Commons. It will be remembered how
his boyish fancy had been kindled by reading
parliamentary debates, and the early passion for
political oratory was renewed by every provocation
that after-years administered. There was no
recreation that he loved better than an evening in
the gallery of the House ; and a great speech,
whether from the Speaker's right or left, always
found in him an eager, interested reader. It was
a congenial task, then, to draw upon his long-
cherished visions and imaginings, and portray tlie
historic forms of Pitt and Fox, of Burke ami
Sheridan, of Erskiue and Canning.
From the House of Commons, the sceue of
Wilberforce's more brilliant achievements, lit
passed on to make mention of the essay on Vm^.-
tical Christianity, in which Wilberforce became a
fellow-worker with the leaders of the Evangelical
Revival, and did service second only, if indeed
second, to that which he accomplished in tliej
abohtion of the slave-trade. This, too, was a cou-
i865.]
LECTURE: " WiLBERFORCEr
231
genial theme, and well-known facts and familiar
religious truths received fresh and vigorous state-
ment.
The latter part of the lecture describes Wilber-
force's labours for the abolition of slavery and the
slave trade. The Bill which finally abolished
slavery throughout the British Empire, and thus
brought Wilberforce's great work to a triumphant
issue, was introduced into the House of Commons
by Lord Stanley a few weeks before Wilberforce
died: —
'' For nearly four hours the House listened unwearied till at the close
the following tribute roused them to irrepressible enthusiasm : — ' Sir, what
will be the joy of that venerable man, now lying, it is feared, on his
deathbed, who, for so many years, through evil and through good report,
firmly and consistently laboured in the cause of the slave ? The language
of that venerable man will surely be to-night, in the last words of the
prophet, " Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according
to Thy word : for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.'" These words
were at once a homage and a prophecy, for the Bill was read a second
time on Friday, July 26th, and on the following Monday the veteran
Christian entered into the joy of his Lord. Thus, within the short
period of one man's life, by the blessing of God upon the efforts of
persevering goodness, were achieved two of the noblest triumphs of
humanity, — triumphs which redeemed colour from the catalogue of crime,
and which gave the right to seven hundred thousand of our follows,
made in the image of the same dear God, to stand up in the face of the
world, no longer chattels, but with the words on every lip, ' T myself also
am a Man.'"
After being delivered in Exeter Hall ou February
7th, the lecture was delivered a second time in the
same place on March 7tli. Within a few weeks he
also gave it at the Victoria Eooms, Clifton, and
the Free Trade Hall, Manchester, at Cardiff and
Swansea, at Bath, Birmingham, Leeds, and Hull.
The journal which had been discontinued for
232
W. MORLEY FUNS HO J 7
[CHAP. IX
Hi
nearly a year is now resumed, though the entries are
irregular and " far between."
Journal.
" Febrtuiri/ ISlh, 18G5. — A long time has elapsed since I made an entry
in this book, and the months which have intervened have been months of
considerable mental exerc se. I hnvn removed ^'rom London, and am
stationed in Bristol. This was a trial. The decision, at least finally,
rested with myself, and I believe, in the sight of God, that I chose to
leave London because I wished to stay in it, and hoped that 1 might be
more likely to be in God's way by denying myself.
'^ March 11th. — God has visited our Church with a sore trial. Dear,
wise, loving Mr. Thornton, our beloved President, was on Sabbath last
suddenly summoned to his rest. The shock is great. It is nearly fifty
years since a President died during his year of office. Mercifully prepared
for the news by a blessed Sacrament last Sabbath evening, but almost
overwhelmed by it.
^^ March ISth. — An impressive funeral sermon for the President on
Wednesday evening. Much affected in reading the memoir, which it
fell to my lot to prepare."
An article in the Sunday Magazine by Dean
Ramsay, containing references to Methodism that
wounded Mr. Punshon and many others, drew from
him a protest which he forwarded to Dr. Guthrie,
the editor. This led to a friendly interchange of
letters, the character of which may be gathered
from the following, which brought the incident to
a close : —
Letter to Dr. Guthrie.
" Febmary 13th, 1865.
" Allow me again to thank you cordially for the spirit of your letter,
and to regret that it should seem a duty to give you the slightest annoy-
ance or pain. I did not write to remonstrate against Dean Ramsay's
article .'-olely on my own motion. Since I received your letter I have
asked the opinion of several of my brother ministers, and of our intelligent
and thoughtful people, whose names, if I were to mention them, would
not be unknown to you ; and they all concur that the impression likely
to be made on the minds of those not acquainted with Methodism by
Dean Ramsay's article would be anything but favourable ; while, on the
i865.]
LETTER TO DR. GUTHRIE.
233
minds of our attachecl friends, the result of its perusal would be to awaken
distrust, not of Methodism, but of the Sumlay Muyazine. I am anxious that
neither of these things should come to pass ; hence my respectful protest.
" The feeling of ray friends seems to be that they have cause of re-
monstrance (I would not say complaint) on two grounds.
" 1. That the oddities and ignorances of fifty years ago are accepted by
the Dean as fair representations of the Methodism of to-day. And,
" 2. That there pervades the entire article an assumption of superiority,
not the less grating because intangible, a sort of patronage of Methodism
a.s a very good thing in its way, but by no means entitled to the courtesy
of being called a Church ; which may be well enough for Dean Ramsay,
but which wo think as much out of place in the columns of a neutral
magazine as if I were to write an article on the escapades of drunken
clergymen, or to hash up for a religious periodical the revelations of
'Jupiter Carlyle.' I write with all frankness and with all affection."
During the first half of 1865 Mr. Punshon's labours
were on the usual scale. For weeks together every
evening except Saturday was occupied, either by
work in his own Circuit, or by engagements at a dis-
tance. On three successive evenings of one week he
lectured on Wesley, Daniel, and Wilberforce. In
April he went on a Missionary Deputation to West
Cornwall, preaching five times, addressing seven
meetings, and lecturing once, in less than a fortnight.
The following month he took part in the Missionary
Anniversary in London, preaching at Great Queen
Street and Spitalfields, and speaking at Exeter Hall.
But as the year advanced his health and spirits
began to give way. The strain of his work was once
more telling upon him, and he had reason to fear that
to each return of old symptoms he was able to offer
less and less resistance. Early in May he writes to
Mr. Hirst :—
'Here I am, invalided, unstrung, a worn-out minister, obliged to rest
nil my oars for awhile, with a nervous system somewhat shattered, and a
t'»ugh, bad throat, etc."
^34
tV. MOkLEY PUNSHOM.
[chap. IX.
Wl>
A week later : —
" I am quite knocked up, and fear I must rest. My nerves seem quite
shattered."
" May 13 we started for Waterloo, and drove quietly
along a somewhat uninteresting road, skirting the edge or the Forest of
Soignios, which Byron has, by poetic licence, identified with the ancient
Ardennes. After a drive which seemed long to our impatience, we
reached the village^ of Mont St. Jean and Waterloo, where fancy could
people the field where, though for a season ' the red rain ,macio the
harvest grow,' the land has ever since been desolate, as if smitten with
the cilfrse of Cain. We went into the church of Waterloo, and gazed
upon-^tho tablets of many who fell in the battle, amongst which that of
Colonel Ponsouby, and of the ' young, gallant Howard ' whom C'A/Wi
Harold mourns, attracted me most. Arrived on the field, we went first
into the museum, kept by Sergeant Mundy, who announces its contents
with the pardonable garrulity of age. It is interesting to those whase
faith is not languid, and, so far as many of its treasures are concerned, to
all. Having engaged a guide, we ascended the Lion Mound. From thi^
elevation we could see the road to Nivelles ; straight before us the road
along which Blucher led his forces to the field, and along which Napoleon
gazed so wistfully, with the ' Ext-ce Grouchy, ou est-ce Blucher f often on
his lips ; behind us MoiU St. Jcdn, and the village of Waterloo two miles
away ; yonder, the position of the French, and here the English army ;
here the spot where the gallant Scotch (Jreys fell, there the Gordon
monument, and that to the Hanoverians, the only two on the field ; that
mean-looking house, La Ilaije Sainte, where the battle waged so fiercely,
— that white one with the trees near it, La Belle A lliunre, where the allied
sovereigns met. The interest culminated when we stood upon the spot,
or thereabouts, whence, from their impatient ambush, the Guards Hashed
to their final charge, and when we walked through the chateau and
orchard of Hougomont, and saw the remnant of the wall which the French
tried in vain to pierce, and the defence of which may be said to have
decided the fortunes of the day. Lover of peace, and preacher of i>eace
as I am, I confess to a fleeter rush of blood through the veins as I stood
where
" ' In pride of place the kingly eagle flew,
Then tore with bloody talons the rent plain,
Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through ! '
" September 27th. — Luxembourg. The fortifications are very extensive.
It seemed like breaking a fly upon a wheel to have line upon line of
earthwork and solid masonry to defend a spot like this, for except that it
might be a key to other positions, it would offer but small temptation to
1865.]
JOURNAf. OF TRAVUn.
2.^7
.111 invading army. An inscription over one of the city gates took my
fancy, and I here tranHcribe it : —
" ' Si lo nom de Mario dans ton cosur est gravd,
Pawtant n'oublie de lui dire un Avi^'
The outward symbols of devotion are not scarce in Luxembourg, for
iilmost every street contains images of the Virgin or the Saviour.
" Hepkmher 2Hth, — StrdHlnirg. We went to the cathedral, and were just
in time for the twelve o'clock celebration on the wonderful clock. The
cock crowed as lustily as when I heiird him three years ago, and the
iipostles were as profound in their obeisance as they passed their Master.
We iidmired the exquisite porch and entrance door into the choir, and all
ray enthusiasm was rekindled by the glorious west front, which, for
delicacy and l)eauty of architecture, impresses me more than anything I
have seen.
" Semite mher 2Wi, — The road to Lucerne passes, on both sides of the
line, through scenery of a most beautiful character, amply repaying us
for short rest and ' Castalian cheer.' On emerging from the tunnel at
Laufelfingen, the prospect which should have greeted us was shrouded by
the mist of the morning. At Wanwyl station we have a grand view
of the Oberland range, peak rising upon peak in fantastic outline, many
of them capped with snow. After passing Sursee, an old walled town,
we skirt the west shore of the Lake of Sempach, on whose eastern bank
was fought one of the famous battles which gained Swiss independence.
It was in this battle that Arnold von Winkelried opened a passage for his
countrymen by gathering into his own bosom as many Austrian lances as
be could grasp. Four crosses mark the spot where he fell.
" ' He, of battle-martyrs chief,
Who, to recall his daunted peers,
For victory shaped an open space,
By gathering, with a wide embrace.
Into his single heart a sheaf
Of fatal Austrian spears.'
The Rigi and Pilatus soon afterwards came in sight, and we steamed
into the station of Lucerne.
" I think that the most vivid impression of perfect beauty which I
ever received will, in all after-memory, be linked with my first view of
Lucerne. I was like one in a trance. It was impossible to analyse the
emotions which thrilled me, or to describe the combinations of loveli-
ness which called them forth. I simply record the fact, and am thankful,
'leeply and devoutly, that I have been permitted to look upon thia
scene.
" Sunday, October 1st. — The Sabbath has dawned, and the impression
2.38
TV. MO J? LEV PUNSHON.
[chap. IX.
of calmnoHH, boauty, mftjcHty, Hiiblimity awoke again with tho firHt \m\\\
of the opening day. The trains di.sgorge thoir tliouHands, and the Htejimers
ply a8 usual, painfully reminding us that the Haljbath Ih nioro a holiduy
than a holy day. Wo found from the billH in tlie hotel that the (Jliunii
of England service for October was to have been taken by the llev. C, E,
Oakeley, but instead of preaching Christ among His most oKiuisite
earthly works, he has been called, in manhood's prime, to ' see the Kiiii;
in His beauty, in the land that is far off.' Wo went in the morning tn
the English church. The service was profitable, though the sermon w;i<
tlnn. The good man seemed to apologise for the insinuation that tlitn
might possibly be sinners in his congregation, or, to use his words,
' those who were leading inconsistent lives ; ' but ho gave them some
words of warning on the shortness of time.
" In the afternoon we went to the Cathedral of St. Leger, whtre
service was going on. There was a bishop present, and the ciTeiiionv
was imposing, and the music fine. From the church we went to tin-
cemetery, and witnessed a burial. The scene was impressive, and w!i<
rendered painful by the loud wail of women ' mourning for their dead.
and refusing to be comforted.' In the evening we walked on the
promenade m front of the lake, upon which a brilliant moon wis
shining. Here, for the first time for years, I essayed rhyming in the
following
"Lines, Lucerne, October 1st, 18C5.
" O sweet Lucerne, thou art to me
A spell of tenderest memory.
For ne'er on my enchanted eyes
Did lovelier scenes of beauty rise
Than I — attent — delight to see
This quiet Sabbath eve in thee.
The lake, whose bashful waters gleam
Beneath the moon's enamoured beam,
The quaint old bridges, storied o'er
"With annals of the gone-before ;
The wooded slopes, e'en to their crest
With fruitfulness and plenty drest ;
The Kulm, that, queen-like, sits and shines
Encompassed with her zone of pines ;
And those far Alps, which from their height
So pure, 80 cold, so still, so bright,
Look down upon this nether earth
Like creatures of a higher birth ; — •
Surely the mercy of the Lord
To man this Eden bath restored,
l8Cs.
JOURNAL OF TRAVEL,
n«>
[iOger, whiTc
,he ciTemony
went to till'
live, and wll^
)r their dead,
alkod on ttf
at moon was
lyming in tk
Faint iinnge of thiit primal one
In which lie walked at Hot of hum.
FiOt these my silent tcachern he,
The woods, the hills, this waveloss sea.
For beauty, rightly read, hath mucli
The mind to inform, the heart to touch ;
God speaketh oft from Nature's lips
In mute but glad apocalypse,
Glory on Tabor resteth yet,
And Heaven is nigh to Olivet.
• * * * •
May not the lake's unruffled calm
Sing to the troubled heart a psalm.
And speak of those ' still waters ' where
He leads the objects of His care,
Who wipes the tears His chosen weep.
And ' giveth His beloved sleep ' V
As of the storm it bears no trace,
Locked in the mountain's fast embrace.
Scarce dimpled by the moonbeam's smile,
Nor stirred by quivering wing the while,
Can it not bid thy tumult cease.
And to thy lone heart whisper ' Peace ' ?
Hush, hush thy grief, no more repine,
Take the blest teaching, it is thine."
" October 4th. — The Stauhhach Fall. I was benefited in this instance by
pitching my expectations rather low, for I was neither prepared for the
quantity of water, for the height of the fall, nor for its exceeding beauty.
The wind catches it just after its leap from the crest of the rock, whirls
itiibout as if in play, and scatters it so far that in one part no continuity
can be discerned ; but it gathers again, and pours its rejoicing waters into
the clefts below. While we gazed, the wind changed for a moment and
the current of the fall was diverted alx)ut fifteen or twenty feet. We
were delighted also to see the shadow of the fall upon the rock behind it,
and two of those wonderful rainbows which can only be seen on a Swiss
waterfall, in a clear sky, with a rising and almost vertical sun.
" October 5th. — Berne. We came first to the ogre-fountain. The ogre is
iu the act of devouring a child, and has several others tucked into his
pockets, preparatory to their being tucked in elsewhere. We visited the
cathedral, a fine building, with some excellent wood carvings in the
chancel, the prophets on one side, Christ and His apostles on the other.
The carving is admirably done, but the likenesses can hardly be true ones,
itt they liave made Isaiah look like a fool, and Ezekiel like the landlord of
m'j
340
jr. MOR/.KY rUNStfON.
[t IIAI*. IX.
a public house, whilo Jcrcmiiili Ih iin unmiHtakiible warrior, and John tlie
BaptiHt, that child of the doHurt, is Hleok aH a London aldcnnaii, or a
ralet-de-phwe. Wo went to the platform from which there ought to Imvc
been a good view of the BerncHo Oberland, but we could scarcely we the
outline of a hill. It is ?Miid (in the Swiss Apocrypha), that a student once
leaped the parapet wall of this platform on horseback ; the horstt wan
killed, but he lived to preach the Gospel for n^.irly thirty years.
" .S« «//«//, (klober Htfi. — Lditminne. At !).30 we went to the Temple St.
Francois, a dry, bare, cold-looking church, where we heard a French
sermon inanimately delivered, and, as far as I cotild gather, coldly evange-
lical. Afterwards we went to the English Church, enjoyed, and wor-
shipped in the liturgy, but had ' thin kail ' again for the sermon. Dined
with Mr. and Mrs. Budgett at the table d'hote of the ' Faucon,' went to
tea to Pasteur Hocart's, had some profitable conversation, and delightful
French singing, and family prayer, and then made our way to the We!*-
leyan Chapel, so-called by rather extravagant courtesy, for it is a room of
many shapes, in a small corner house under an archway, and up three
flights of stairs. Into this place one hundred and twenty to one hundred
and fifty people were crowded, and the atmo^^phere was intolerably hot
There is great need for the erection of the Memorial Chapel in Lausanne.
After singing and prayer, my friend and I delivered addresses which M.
Hocart interpreted. It was the ' upper room ' without the gift of tongues,
but in this, my first essay at preaching through an interpreter. I was in-
terested and profited, and I trust some blessing will remain.
" October Wth.—Lago Magginre. For the first hour or two I was like
one in a trance, not able to realise that I was on an Italian lake. The
very name of Italy has been a dream to me from childhood, but my young
fancy at its wildest never contemplated an actual sight of it with my
bodily eyes. But this is Italy ! And I am in the land classic with a
thousand memories, the land of art, and music, and song, now also, thank
God, of hope, progress, and nascent freedom. . . . There is seated, opposite?
me on the steamer, a young lady, dressed in exquisite style, who is— how
shall I write it ?— smoking, not a cigarette, but a veritable cigar, as coolly
as any tobacco-loving German of them all.
''■October \2th. — Milan Immediately after breakfast we wended our
way to the Duomo. Oh for words to speak of that marble wildernes< -
wilderness only in its extent and tracklessness. . . . Among the ■^'
(4,500 in number) i:- one by Canova of the Emperor Napoleon, v
been placed on one of the highest pinnacles, and an Adam an(i iv
Michael Angelo, perhaps the grandest old sculptures in the world, live,
remorseful, is looking into the depths of her great sorrow ; the child Caiu
is at her feet, ' the man from the Lord ' whom she fondly imagined she
had gotten, stern and self-willed of face and form, as if there slept in him
the dark future which her sin should bring into the world. Adam, sad
.865.]
JOURNAL.
»4»
with tho mornory of viiiUHhe*! joy, hol(lin>( in one hiiiul tho fruit, sole relic
of till! lost Edou, loiins wearily with the other \x\)0\\ ii rude implement of
toil ; whilst tho little Abel liiughs with tho glee of childhood, hh if ho hud
heard of redemption, and know that the Heaven which ho was to bo tho
first to enter, was not barred from tho siuuing race for ever. Thoy are
very wonderful sermons in stone.
" We drove thence to tho Church of 8t. Ambrose, the oldest and riost
interesting' in Milan. It was originally a temple to Jupitor and Bacchus,
iind some of the pagan figures remain, blended with the symbols of a
purer worship. In this church Ambrose ministered. From this pulpit
hi8 words wore carried by the Divine Spirit into the heart of tho young
Augustine. On the sides is carved in stone a representation of an ancient
agape. It was evidently a feast in those times, for tho table round which
they are seated is laden with more substantial viands than our modern
'iovefenst know. Beneath tho pulpit is the tomb of Stilicho, tho
general of Theodosius, who won so many victories over tho Goths. In
the nave is a figure of the brazen serpent given by Otho III. To
the lower class of Italians it is generally represented as the identical
serpent uplifted in the wilderness.
'Octobrr Wh. — Flwence. Wo called on tho Rev. J. R. Macdougall,
tho estimable minister of tho Scotch Church, to whom wo had letters of
introduction. He received us with much kindness, and volunteered, on
amditionii, to be our cicerone for the day. We went to tho printing-offico
of the ' Claudian Press,' which is under Mr. Macdougall's management,
and where Bibles and other evangolicjil books are printed by hundreds,
and sown broadcast over Italy. Wo then visited tho Waldensian Church
and College, and were introduced to Dr. Revel, one of the professors.
We were interested in hearing of the work of these labourers in the Lord's
vineyard, who are sprung from such an honoured ancestry, and cordially
wished them success.
"On our way to the Pitti Palace I stopped suddenly, with much
emotion, at the sight of a small square slab, inserted into the wall of
1 house. It bore this inscription — ' Hero wrote and died Elizaueth
Barrktt Bro\vnin'(;, who, to the heart of a woman, joined the science of
he spirit of a poet, and who made with her golden verso
l)etweea Italy and England, Grateful Florence places this
.lUi
11 h« u to Florence for her gratitude ; and all honour to the great,
^ woman, so recently passed away, who wailed forth ' the cry of the
iliildren,' and burnt into the national soul the fiery lessons of Aurora
isited was the house, the veritable house of
u, the grand old man, poet, painter, sculptor,
I trust Christian, all in one. It was a rare
16
■'The next place W'
Michael Angelo Buon;
architect, politician.
!toii|i|ifi
242
IK MORLEY PUNSHON.
LCHAP. IX.
\is:'l
enjoyment to tread the very rooms, to see the very sandals, walking-
stick, writing-table, etc., which he had used. Many of his original
drawings are here, the model for his ' David,' for his greatest woric, the
' Last Judgment,' an early sculpture, chiselled when he was scarcely
sixteen, a bronze bust of him by John of Bologna, his favourite disciple,
and last, to me r.ot least interesting, two autograph letters. . . . Turning
into a little bye-street, we came upon a house with this inscription ;— ' In
this houso was Alighieri born, the Divine poet.' It was no small thing to
have had communion, so io speak, with Michael Angelo and with Dauui
in the course of one day.
" From the Church of San Miniate there is a fine general view of
Florence. You trace the course of the Arno from the distant mountains
on the right, through the heart of the city, and winding along the fruitful
valley towards Pisa. The city is before you, ' like a pearl set in emeralds'
The hill which rises behind it is Fiesole, the ancient Florence, of wliidi
Milton sings, —
" ' The moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening from the top of Fesole ; '
and where Milton and Galileo met, — grander meeting than of monarchsin
the ' Field of the cloth of gold.' Far away to the left is Pistoja, with tlie
pillar of Catiline, and the majestic Apennines close up the vicM'.
" Suiuluy, October Ihtk. — Went in the fuienoon to the Scotch Church
in the Lung' Arno, witnessed the recognition of two new elilcrH, and
preached to a congregation of eighty-three persons. It was to mi' a joy
and a refreshing to be permitted to speak for my Master in Italy. In tlit
afternoon, my friend Mr. (Jervjiwe Smitli occupied the pulpit, these huiii:
the ' conditions ' upon which our friend Mr. Macdougall conseuttd to k
our guide yesterday."
From Florence they went to Genoa, and thence
returned to Milan. From Milan their route was by
Como, and Bellaggio to Colico, and over the Spliigeii
Pass to Coire, and it was their intention to returu
home hy Zurich, Schaffhausen, and Basle, Baden,
Heidelberg, etc. , to Cologne, and thence to CaJais.
" October 2itlu — Baden Baden. . . . After the table dilute, where my
vis-d-ris was an English M.P., we went to the Conversationshaus, where
in the large and splendid hall a brilliant company was gathered, listenini;
to music ; while in the smaller saloons excited players were busy at the
vtri
i865.]
JOURNAL OF TRAVEL.
243
i/aming tables. The only persons who appeared unmoved were the
cniiiiii>rK. For nearly an hour we stood watching the players, some at
ri.uh-ltr, iind some at clnift-un, whatever those games may be. I tried at
first to understand them, but gave up the attempt in despair. It was
a sjul sight ; old men with white hair, men in manhood's prime, youths just
entering upon life, gouty old dowagei's rouged to cheat people into the
belief that they were young, new-made wives entreating their busbands
for iiioiicy that they might stake it upon the hazard, and worst of all,
'simple maidens in their flower,' young Eves, with loose duennas or
gambling mothers like serpents by their side, — all were there, intent upon
the [))iy, fevered with the excitement of occasional gain, but of far more
frequent loss. I observed some who seemed to win by every venture,
others whom ill-luck attended throughout. The English M.P. who sat
opposite me at the table d'hute was there, and staked so largely as to excite
the attention of the managers, who keenly watched his movements. At
one time he staked a whole handful of gold at a venture, which the
merciless rakes swept off, and again he extended his hands, like Danae, to
receive a shower of gold. It is to be hoped he rose from that table ' a
sadder, but a wiser man,' for he left off a loser of something like a hundred
and fifty pounds. I was particularly struck with a young girl with a
very innocent face who blushed painfully with the excitement of the
gai.ie. She lost for a long time, but played on with desperate hardihood
until u slight turn of fortune came. She had an elderly woman with her
rtlio seemed to prompt her to play, and to counsel her where to place her
money. ... 1 have rarely seen a sadder sight than those tables presented.
I longed for the language to testify against the abomination, or to lay
a beseeciiing hanil upon the shoulder of that young girl, and utter a word
(if warning in her ear.
" (IrlohiT 21th. — UnLsacLf. We had hoped to have a (juiet Sabbath in
Hrussels, and on Monday to leave for 'home, sweet home.' Alas for the
vanity of all human expectations ! Letters have come, anil the postscript
of one of them brings me tidings that a sore trouble has befallen. The
messenger of death has again entered our faniilj', and my loved ones at
home neetl me, for they are in sorrow. Half-past six was the hour at
which the intelligence reached me, eight o'clock saw me on the route for
home. Tile night fitful and stormy, witli now ami then pause ,'land, and would liavo dono ho if, inntoad of
mil aiul stoam, wu had t()ileiit it must surely come to a nature which, in spite
of a prodigal expenditure, hJiowed still such large
III
256
Vr. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. IX.
and available resources. Meantime, he himself, even
when most depressed, " loved life, and would fain
see many days." He sought to school and subdue
himself in this matter, to bring his mind to the
thought that possibly his work was well-nigh done,
and his course finished. It w^as a time of conliict
and discipline. " Take me not away in the midst
of my days. . .
take for me. . .
as Thou wilt."
Thus William
darkest hours of
Lord, I am oppressed ; under
Nevertheless, not as I will, but
Morley Punshon prayed in the
1866, — a year when the shadow
of death seemed gathering for him. But he was
heard in that he feared. As to the king of Jiidali
when " he turned his face toward the wall and
prayed unto the Lord," *' there were added unto his
days fifteen years."
" The Lord hath chastened me sore : but He
hath not given me over unto death."
" I shall not die but Uve, and declare the works
of the Lord."
3lf, even
luld fain
L subdue
I to the
^h done,
conflict
he midst
L ; under-
will, but
I in the
.e shadow
it he was
; of Judeli
wall and
i unto hib
CHAPTER X.
1866—1868.
CLIFTON, LONDON. Aged 42 to 44.
Letter to Rev. R. Ridgill. — Publishes Sabbath Chimes. — Letters from
Friends.— Conference of 18G7.— Completion of Watering-Places Chapel
Fund.— Appointed Presiil'. at of (Janadian Conference. — Inner History. —
Continental Travel. — Lecture : Florence aiul ita Memories. — Address
and Presentation. — Farewell to England.
Towards the close of the year 1866, Mr. Punshon
wrote at considerable length to his old friend Ridgill.
Nearly five and twenty years had passed since they
I met, and the correspondence had, as was almost
I inevitable, dwindled down to an interchange of
I letters at long intervals; but each retained for the
other the affection which had begun in boyhood,
and was to last to the close of their common life-
[time.
Letter to Rev. R. Rincar.r..
" September 29th, 1866.
" I can HCiircely tell you how often I have made up my mind to write
|to)ou, nor how I have been prevented tiiiu' after time. If you knew my
pperience during the last twelve months, you would not wonder at
^>y silence, and you would forgive my seeming neglect.
"My illness hi's changed me in Uiany respects ; not essentially, for I
►ni "^till mado up of the old warp and woof, but, being an e.\haustioii of
iitrvous energy, it touched the springs of hope, and life seemed, without
Piy physioid discsvse upon me, to have lost all its buoyancy and vigoui',
17
258
IV. MORLEV PUNSIION.
[chap.
I am better, much better, but it will probably be a loug time beforu I am
well, if indeed I ever possess again the robustness of former years. I
have had to struggle sorely, moreover, with mental disquietude. I could
have braced myself for illness, but to be neither ill nor well tried my
faith and patience to the uttermost.
" Of Enghsh Methodism you know, I suppose, as much as I can kll
you. There is a growing indifEerence to class meetings, which I do not
like to see ; but it seems an inevitable tendency of a higher civilization
where the culture of the leaders does not advance with that of their
charge. Some say it is a result of a more refined and reverent religious
feeling. This I have yet to learn. Our pulpit is well sustained. Many
of our younger men are of great promise. External pro.sperity aboumls
but the numbers remain almost stationary. It is small comfort to know
that we share this languor with other Churches. The attritions of mind
are fiercer now than they ever were, and all things appear in preparation
for such a war of opinion as we liave never seen yet.
"... I have a chapel on hand just now, to be opened on November Ist.
My fund, which is yet £1,"J00 short of the £10,000 contemplated, keeps
me busy, for I must finish it this year.
'* How many children have you V Mine are making me feel old. Fanny.
my eldest, my only girl, is fifteen years old, just finishing her sehooling,
and I am happy to say, decided for God, and a member of ^■'"cioty. She
is tall and delicate. John William, my eldest boy, is fourteen, a
mathematical genius, but a care and anxiety to me lest he go a.st ay,
Morley, the next, is a little curly-headed rascal who can't learn from boob
at all, but of shrewd and observant habits. Percy Henry, the youngest.
is a very boy, with a boy's ' dread of books and love of fun.' On the
whole they are a comfort to me, and I bless God for them.
"... How strange it is to look back on foi-mer times, when there \va.>
times, tht: dream han had an awakening, and I am wide awaiii.
sorrowfully, now. 1 can say no more on this subject. What 1 bave siiii|
here will perhaps be interpreted some day.
[CHAr. X.
1866.]
A NEW PROJEC'l.
259
before I am
ler years. I
itlo. I could
cU tried my
ais I can tell
lich 1 do not
3r civilization
that of their
rent religifiiii
ained. Many
irity abouuils,
afort to know
itions of miii'l
lU preparation
November hi.
mplated, keeps
cl old. Fanny,
T her schooling.
f g.rci(^ty. She
is fourteen, a
t he go a.stay.
:arn from boob
•, the younge>t.
fun.' Ontk
hien tlicre was a
|ry now ? I iim I
lodist C/'f'.Wi'"i
Tho muse i<
liui inspiration-,
swollen into a
^insr a '.'W verv|
After liiK.
|tlicfornierii»l
I know »I"'I
Lilt of uiyfelt:o|
lide awake, ■>s^\
riuvt I baves
" I tirmly believe, tho longer I live, in the mission of Methodism iis the
preservative of sound doctrine, a happy repository both of order and of
life. Do plecose take this letter as in . omo sort an atonement for past
transt'ression. Believe me, my heart is the same, and yearns after my
old friend ' flardric ' ; and though ' Roderick ' has been supersede Vhn.-'t- ni, Yvar is not a eollection of hymns. Those who
liiive conn- to it expecting to find genuine hymns will turn away in dis-
uiipointnu'Ht. Tliey will seek in vain for anything of the directness, the
tirvour, tlie strong simplicity whicJ- has delighted them in Charles
^\i-lty. But to ikrjukud this is to mistake the nature and form of
264
ir. MORLKY PUNS HON.
[CHAl',
Kiiblo's poems. Thoro Ik all tlio dilVisroiici; iKitwccii tlicni and ('llllIil^
Wesley's, that there is between meditation on the one hand, and prayii,
or thanksgiving, or praise on the other. Indeed, so little did Kuljji's
genius fit him for hymn writing, that in his two poems wliich are intended
to be hymns — those for the nioi-ning ami the evening -tlie opeiiiiif^ in
either case is a description of natural facts, wholly unsuited foi' iiyiiin
purposes. And so when thisse two poems are adopted into hymn col.
lections, as they ofter. are, a mere selection of certain stanais from eiicli is
all that is found possible.''
There is a very close parallel between the character
and history of the morning and evening hymns of
Keble and Punshon. The morning hymn as it stands
in the The Christian Year consists of sixteen
stanzas ; as abridged in Hymiis Ancient and Modern,
iu has but five. The evening hymn, in The Chrlstinn
Year fourteen stanzas in length, is reduced to six io
the same hymn book. Similarly, the hymn for morn-
ing, twelve stanzas long in Sabbath Chifties, is re-
duced to five in the Wesleijan Hymn Book, aud the
hymn for evening, from twelve to six. In the poems
aUke of the Anglican and of the Methodist are
*' descriptions of natural facts," beautiful in them-
selves, and steeped in an atmosphere of devout medi-
tation, but foreign to the spirit an«i method of a true
hymn. For the reader these two portions are au
essential and indispensable part of the whole, but
they are not suited for the service of the sanctuar)'.
Lovers of Keble, The Christian Year in hand, ^vill
still repeat at sunset the lines :
" 'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze ;
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.''
But in the congregation this and the succeeding
veme are passed over, and the evening hymn begins,
^%-.] "SAB/iA/V/- CnfMKSr 265
" Sun of my soul ! Thou Siiviour dear,
It Ih not night if Thou \tv iiwir :
Oh ! may no eiirtli -horn cloud ariso
To hide Thee from Tliy Hcrviint's eyes."
So, in households where the Sabbath Chimes are
prized, the quiet worshipper coininuninf^ at eventide
with God and liis own heart, will read,
"Another Sal)hath sun is down,
Grey twiUj,'lit creeps o'er tlior|)e and town,
IIow much of sorrow, uncoufessed,
Lies hidden in yon darkening west !
"What 1) .rdens, uncomplain' vi,' borne,
What masks o'er latent im. nsli worn,
What pangs of heart-hreak, |)lots of sin,
Have this night's shadows folded in ! "
But no Sunday evening passes in town or country, in
England and the larger England where our language
rims, but the puhlic worsliip of the day closes with
the verses in which meditation is quickened into
prayer and praise, and solitary communings are
merged in common supplications and thanksgivings :
" Whate'er has risen from heart sincere,
Each upward glance of filial fear.
Each true resolve, each solemn vow,
Jesus our Lord ! accept them now.
" Whato'er beneath Thy searching eyes.
Has wrouglit to spoil our saci'ificc,
Mid tliis sweet stillness while we bow,
Jesus our Lord ! forgive us now.
•■ And teach us erring souls to win,
And hide their multitude of sin ;
To tread in Christ's long-suffering way.
And grow more like Him day by day.
" So as our Sabbaths hasten past,
And rounding years bring nigh the last ;
When sinks the sun beliind the hill.
When all the weary -wheels stand still ;
266 W. MORLKY PUNSTfON. [liiai-. x.
"When l>y <.'.ir ImmI ilio lovod onos weep,
And (li!iitli-(lows oV'i- tin; foicliciid ciccp,
And viiiri is help or hopo from men ;
JesiiH our Lore, ! ronciivn lis then.''
As a religious poet Pimslioii liiul tliis in coininon
with Keble, that he accepted witiiout reserve or
qualification the Christian view of hiinian life,
Neither of them was at any time a vloubter. No
traces of conllict, or of stormy and perilous stages
of thought, can be discerned in their verse. The
firm foundation of a definite creed is in eacli case
unmistakable. And whatever may be said for
" honest doubt " as a source of poetic inspiration,
hearty faith is at once more fruitful and more
potent.
And as the author of The Chrid'uin Year ami the
author of SabhatU Chimes held with equal firniijess
the great doctrines of the common faith, so each
accepted heartily the system of the Church lit loveil
Here Keble had, as a poet, the advantage. The
Church of Keble, whatever may be urged against it,
was at least
" Meet nurse for a poetic child."
Its venerable antiquity and historic associations
wrought powerfully upon him. Its literary traditions
were of a kind to call forth and give encouragement
to his genius. Herbert, and Vaughan, and Bisliop
Ken smiled upon him : Hooker, and Taylor, and
Wilson nodded approval. The devotion of centurits I
had moved through that round of sacred seasons of
which he became to a new generation the poet and
the interpreter. Those who w^ere familiar with tliej
English Prayer Book were, so to speak, a coiistitii-
i86r">
"SAnnA'/rr cnrMRsr
267
0; ,'y |)r(^p:iro(I for The Ghriatian Year, wliere tlio
spirit oi' the Prayer Book is precisely (;aii<,'lit, and
well nv^\\ perfectly exprosscMl.
Ill \\h) eas(^ of Pmishoii and liis volume there was
little or nothing answering to this. There was no
tradition for him to take up and enricdi. He had
110 predecessors hy whose labour a certain strain of
meditative devotion had been madci familiar and
dear to the people. The one form in which
Methodism has possessed high poetic inspiration is
tliat of the hymn, and the one name of commanding
reputation belonging to it is that of Charles Wesley.
As a hymn-writer Charles Wesley was unrivalled in
his own age, and hardly surpassed in any ; but as
soon as he went outside that special province he
sank to the level of his day, the day when English
jioetry touched its low-water nuirk.
The literary traditions of Methodism were not
therefore a liel]), a stimulus, an inspiration to Mr.
Punshon, as were those of the Anglican Church to
Keble. In his attempt to associate the Sundays of
the ecclesiastical year with meditations in verse, he
had no support in the usage of Metliodists at large.
Among them there are undoubtedly numy to whom
the dignity, the tenderness, the poetic charm of
hturgies, and of ancient memorials aiul observances,
powerfully ajipeal ; but, speaking generally, these
things have been altogether subordinated to the
maintenance of evangelical doctrine and Church
principles. Without running all the lengths of
Puritanism in its disregard of "times and seasons,"
the devotional life of Methodists has detached itself
IVom the old ecclesiastical order. The few jj^reat
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268
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. X.
festivals are remembered, but the calendar as a whole
is civil not churchly, or where it is the latter, its
epochs and successions are modern and denomina-
tional.
In shaping his work, then, as a Christian poet ou
the general model adopted by Keble, and by him
invested with fresh authority, Mr. Punshon was to
some extent seeking to combine the characteristics of
two distinct systems, — to cast the free, experimental
religious life of Methodism into the mould of Angli-
canism, or at least into the form that Anglican piety
had for the most part preferred. Not that his book
goes in obvious bonds to the order of the Church's
year. The Sundays after Easter, and after Trinity,
are not so named in detail, though their numbers are
observed ; the theme of the poem is not of necessity
chosen from the lesson, gospel, or epistle for the
day — a rule which at times pressed heavily upou
Keble himself — so that the ecclesiastical calendar
does not too prominently rule the procession, though
it furnishes the fixed points by which the proportions
of the whole are governed.
There is, of course, no reason why a writer should
not employ the method of any school towards which
for any reason he feels himself drawn. The Anglican
is at liberty to write another Pilgrim's Progress— \i
he can, and the Nonconformist to produce a second
Christian Year, on the same condition ; and yet,
perhaps, neither of these things is likely, not more
from the want of genius, than from the lack of inner
sympathy and accord. Perhaps, after all, none but a
Churchman born and bred can write a devout and
pleasing poem for, say — " the Sunday called Septua-
.867.]
SABBATH CHIMES."
269
gesirna." Or, if that be saying too much, none but
a Churchman will have the ear, and reach the heart
of persons who greatly observe Septuagesima and
and Sexagesima.
If Mr. Punshou's volume has not secured the
permanent position which his friends expected,
the foregoing considerations will furnish at least
a part of the explanation. On its appearance it
was heartily welcomed. Personal friends recog-
nised characteristic modes of thought and feeling.
Those who knew liim only as a preacher found him
a preacher still, setting forth in verse the gospel
to which they had often listened, the aspects of
the Christian's life and calling with which he had
made them so familiar. If in the pulpit his sermons
were poems, as was often said, his poems are not
seldom sermons, rising from the preacher's heart
though shaped by the poet's hand. Again and again
the moral of the sermon is enforced in verse. For
example, the courage that is " not ashamed of Christ,"
a continually recurring theme in his ministry, is
described and commended as follows :-—
" There is a courage braver far
Than cliargea in the ranks of war,
Or leaps to hear the cannon's boom,
Or speeds, with patriot pride, to doom.
A hardy frame of well-knit nerves
The soldier's purpose amply serves,
And speeds the thiiniing phalanx on.
When banners trail, and hope is gone.
" But warriors oft have Imckward turned
When folly laughed, or passion burned ;
Scared from the right by witling's blame,
Have let small sneers their manhood sluime.
r M
270 VV. MORLEY PUNSHON. [chap. x.
So on Gilboa's rainleHs field,
Tlic monarch ' casts away his shield.'
So Samson, when his lusts invite,
Turns craven in the moral fight.
" Let God inspire ! — then weak are strong,
And cowards chant the battle-song ;
He, whose approach the darkness hides.
Stands fjist when all the world derides ;
'Mid fiercest fires the generous youtli
Is valiant for the living truth ;
And, martyred for the Saviour's sake.
Heroic woman clasps the stake.
" We thank Thee, Lord ! — when Thou hast need
The man aye ripens for the deed ;
And Thou canst make the timid bold
To shed his fears — as dross from gold —
And, nerved fi-om Heaven, nor droop nor quail,
Though worlds confront, and hell assail.
Oh breathe, in this and every hour.
On each — on me — this soul of power ! "
Tins may be said to be the expansion of a
passage in his Daniel^ which, again, has its parallels
in many a sermon, so constantly did he return
to the central themes, doctrinal and ethical, of his
ministry.
There is another passage in the same lecture,
beginning, " There are no trifles in the moral
universe of God," that may be compared with
the following lines : —
" There are no trifles. Arks as frail
As bore God's prince of old.
On many a buoyant Nile stream sail
The age's heirs to hold.
From Jacois's love on Joseph shed.
Came Egypt's wealth and Israel's bread ;
From Ruth's chance gleaning in the corn.
The Psalmist sjing ; — the Christ was born.
,867.] ''SABBATH ClilMESr zji
" Each spirit weavcH the roljc it wears
From out life's busy loom,
And common tasks and daily cares
Make up the threjids of doom.
Would'st thou the veiled future read ?
Tlie liarvest answereth to the seed.
Shall heaven e'er crown the victor's brow ? —
Ask tidings of the battle now."
The sympathy of Christ, a theme very dear to
Mr. Punshon, and one on which he frequently en-
larged with deep and tender feeling, is the subject
of Poem XV., " For in that He Himself hath suflferod
beiug tempted, He is able to succour them that are
tempted " : —
" Our hearts, forlorn and troubled, need
A. tender priest and true,
Mighty with God to intercede,
But kind and human too ;
And Christ, in this His desert-hour reveals
The arm of conquering streng+.h, the heart which warmly feels.
'' Vainly he tells of wound or sciir
Who ne'er took sword in hand,
Idly lie spejiks of ocean's war
Who sees it from tlie strand.
The ' visage marred ' liegets the sense of pain,
< )ur own tears give the power all other tears to explain.
" So, Jesus, in this school of scorn,
Though Thou wert Son Divine.
The whispered sin, the troubling thorn.
The thought of shame were Thine.
'Tempted in all points.' Be Thy name adored
For this true humanness, — our Brother, Saviour, Lord ! "
Tlie foregoing quotations will sufiico to indicate
the character of Mr. Punshon's verse. A more
detailed criticism would call attention to merits
both of thought and of expression that are here
',"."" '"?
I
aji
W. MORLEY FUNSHON.
[CHAP. X,
II :'
ill
passed over. It would also be compelled to notice
certain defects — obscure or ambiguous phrases, words
of doubtful legitimacy, aud the excessive use of
compound terms. But enough has been said. The
final impression left by a re-perusal of Sabbath
Chimes is that of strongly-held religious belief, of
earnest convictions and warm sympathies working
in a mind touched and quickened by poetic sensi-
bility, and of one accustomed to use language for
the purposes of Christian oratory, employing it with
varying success under new and more exacting con-
ditions. Looking at Mr. Punshon's life-work as a
whole, it may be said of him, as John Wesley wrote
of his brother Charles, " His least praise was his
talent for poetry."
One of the writer's hopes in connection with the
publication of Sabbath Chimes was immediately and
abundantly realised. Through ihe wide circle of
his personal friends it was received with liveliest
pleasure, and called forth many a warm acknowledg-
ment. Few men have leaned more upon their
friends than he, not for help but for happiness,
finding in their affection solace and delight second
only to those which spring from faith in God. His
volume of verse, to whomsoever else it might find
its way, was an offering to his friends, an offering
straight from his heart, and one that undoubtedly
went straight to theirs. Letters 6f thanks poured
in from every side, and the pleasure that these
gave him surpassed, as at all times of his life, that
which he received from favourable notices iu the
press. It was characteristic, not of an author's
vanity, but of his passion for friendship, that these
1867]
LETIKRS FROM FRIENDS.
ftl
273
bo notice
es, words
e use of
lid. The
Sahhath
belief, of
working
)tic sensi-
iguage for
Qg it with
sting con-
work as a
slay wrote
\e was his
n with the
diately ami
circle of
ih liveliest
iknowledg-
ipon their
happiness,
;ht second
[God. His
ight find
,n offering
.doubtedly
^ks poured
,hat these
life, that
[68 iu the
author's
ihat these
letters were carefully preserved. A few extracts
from them will be read with interest : —
From tug Rev. Thomas Jackson.
" I thank you for the copy of your CliimeK which you have had the
kindness to send me, and which I liave read. Some of the metres perplex
me. They are, I believe, in accordance with modern practice ; but my
old eani have been mostly attuned by the men of former generations, such
as Dr)de!i, Pope, Prior, and Cowper. With the modern artists I am not
much acquainted, my prosaic mind being mostly familiar with the com-
IKjsitioiis of dry theologues, who either had no imaginations, or never used
tliLin. Yet I like your sentiments ; and several of your C/iimes, especially
towards the close of the volume, really did my heart good. They brought
tiara into my eyes, especially those which relate to the death of Christ as
;i siicrifice for sin.
•May I suggest that you should take care of your health? I believe
the Master has a great work for you yet to do."
It should be mentioned that Mr. Jackson was then
I in his eighty- third year.
From the Rev. G. T. Perks.
"I greatly admire the sound discrimination with which you have
I shunned High Churchism on the one hand, and no Churchism on the other.
IXo Christian, unless stereotyped in a stiflE and narrow sectarianism, can
jread your C'liimeH without being quickened in intelle'-,,, and strengthened
1 in soul."
From Mrs. Oxenbould, Birmi.nc.ham.
"By the bedside of my suffering sister I have read and re-read the
Ipticms, only to return to them with fresh interest, and thus, in my case
lat least, one of your aims, that of ' comforting the troubled,' has been
jachieved. I have scarcely as yet thought out theii- comparative merits
jhijt find myself most frequently recurring to ' Faith,' ' Hope,' ' Love '
[•Trinity,' 'The Lord's Supper,' the sixth, fifteenth, and thirty-third;
*hile single verses such as
* And as sometimes when words would fail,'
' E'en as for rain the cedars pant,'
.again,
* More grateful in the desert lone,'
; themselves on the memory, to become a daily source of refreshment.
18
> i' 1'
27i
Vr. MORLEY PUNSTION.
\S HAI'. X
II'
From tiik Rkv. Nkvison Ti<»KAiNE.
'•Your most welwmje volume hiiH just reached me, iin
WiirnioMt tliiinkM, uikI uiiniuHtly pniyH thiit ho tniiy long Ih) HpuriMi to ixiupv
thiit poHitioii of honour and iiHttfuliutKH which ho bun ho wuII cjirntMl by In.
ominont al>iliti'3H iiiul unwearied devotion to the caune of OhriMt."
Upon the presentation of this report, it was
moved hy Mr. Arthur, and seconded hy Mr. Scott,
tliat tlio tlianks of the Conference sliouhl he ^'ivou to
Mr. Puushon. This was carried witli enthusiasiu,
and he was left grateful and happy at the successful
issue of long and anxious toil.
By one other quality which should ho referred to,
the value of Mr. Punshou's lahours was greatly en-
hanced. He followed with close and kindly interest
the cases dealt with hy his fund. His personal
attention was given to local details, to the great
advantage of those concerned. This was particu-
larly the case with regard to North Wales, where his
friend the Rev. Frederick Payne was devising large |
things in respect to the rapidly increasing water-
ing-places on that coast. Year after year, often I
accompanied by Mr. Gervase Smith, he visited tlie
neighbourhood, and threw himself with characteristic |
energy into Mr. Payne's ever-expanding operatious.
At Khyl and Llandudno, at Conway, Prestatyn, auiil
Llanrwst he rendered service on many occasions audj
in various ways.
The Conference of 1867, however, was markeil
by a far more important event in Mr. Puiislioii!
history than the completion of the scheme that li»!|
been described. For reasons which, to his own iiiii
had become conclusive, he determined, should tkj
iHb;.]
IXyiTATinX TO C.tXJ/Ki.
270
((iiisciit of tho Conference l)e f,nveii, to accept an
iuvitiitiou tliat had readied him from Cana(hi. Tlie
Conforence of tlie WeHh^yan Metliodist Cluircli in
Caiuula, in its address to tlie Britisli Conference,
niter describin*^ its fields of labour, and plans of
operation, made the following request : —
"Wr liolicvo timt wi) HliiMiKi l)o uiiu-h iitwiHtod in thono ^roat ixupoHos l)y
tln'rx;ini|>lt',«yin|»iithit!s, iuiil liilioiirHtif c pitnuitted to tmvol throuj^h uiir Con-
m xioii till' current year : Itelievinj,' us we do, that his e^junsels and
iiiiiiistr.itions will, under the Diviiu! Iilensing, j^reatly edify us and our
|Kii|i|(', imnieiisely benefit our entire ("hurch and <'ountry, and eontrihuto
laiyi'ly to cotiHoHdate into one mi({hty coniniunity, MetliodiHUi throughout
llritish North America."
It was felt that compliance with this request in-
volved some important considerations. A strong
k'oiiimittoe was appointed, consisting of all the ex-
l'resi(l»^nts and eight other inilueiitial ministers, to
I consider the matter in all its bearings, and report to
[the Conference. It was now generally known tliat
[Mr. runshon was contemplating a step that would
iirofoundly afl'ect his personal and domestic life. It
hviis uot unlikely that it might lead to his making
Ills permanent home in Canada, and there were
jditferences of opinion as to the extent to which the
ICouference would be incurring responsibility, and
Igiviiif,' its sanction beforehand to what some, at least,
|<)f its members could not approve.
The question which was complicating the other-
pvise Hiuiplu matter of Mr. Punshon's temporary truns-
jfer to Canada will be best stated in his own words
iut meanwhile, the Committee, after looking at
the wiiole matter, recommended the Conference to
2^0
Pr. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap X.
accede to the request from Canada, aud make the
desired appointment. The report of tlie Committee
was laid before tlie Conference by Dr. Osborn in a
speech of great weight.
" He remiiuled the Conforuiice that for Hcveral years past he liud
advocated, in the strongest manner of which he was capable, the iulvis-
ableness of maintaining, by frequent deputations, their frieni
in the va.st colonial empire of Great liritain. They had in the North
American cohinies in their i^resent circumstances, a wide and nmsi
important field for the extension of their influence. The recent politkal
arrangements by which the two provinces of C anada and Nova Scotia.
New Brunswick and Prince Edward's Island were constdidated under the
title of ' The Dominion of Canada,' opened a new door for usefulmv
iu that direction. Not oidy would the power of Great Britain be v.m-
solidated, and a more effective system of government be intitxluwl.
but the moral influence of Great Britain would, they hoped, liy th"M
means be greatly extended, and opportunities furnished for the spread hhI
progress of Methodism, a matter of far moie importance than iii;iii.v
persons in this country conceived. They had already in the new Dominion
a position of ctmsiderable importance, and, if it pleased (5od to blesw tlitir
work there, that position would grow every year. He knew no i)t'tttr
way of helping than by endeavouring to strengthen Methodism, to giv<
it additional impetus, and, if he might say it, additicmal prestige, ly
the appointment of deputations to visit those provinces, and to help tht
Methodist work in that country. Those were the public and geiural
grounds on which he was prepared individually to i-ecommend to tin
Conference, and on which, he was thankful to say the Committee wi*
prepared to recommend to the Conference, that the appointment whiih
the Canada Conference requested, should be made by the present
Conference. He therefore proposed : —
" ' That it is highly desirable on public gi-ounds that the request ot
,867.] PRIVATE AND PERSONAL MA7TERS.
281
tlio Can.'ulii Conference should Imj complied with, and that the C()nferen;!e
be recommended to appoint Mr. Punshon to preside at the next Canadian
Conference to Ih) held at Kingston, in the month of June, 18(58, and
t() visit various places in that Connexion in the ensuing year.'"
The resolution was seconded by Mr. Arthur and
carried by an almost unanimous vote. Mr. Punshon
was further appointed Representative of the British
Coufereuce to tlie General Conference of the
Methodist Episcojjal Church in the United States,
to be held at Chicago in the following May.
The other element in the case was private and
personal ; yet, as affecting a public man, it was
impossible wholly to withdraw it from comment and
discussion. Two entries in his journal, the one
written some eight months before the Confereiice,
aud the other nearly a year and a half afterwards,
will best explain his course, and the feelings by which
he w'.is actuated.
.TotmNAi,.
" Xiiirnilirr 24(li, 18G(>. — Strange and gmve perplexities have risen nj)
iiMund me, and I am longing to know my duty, and then to be strengthened
iit ail liaaards to do it. As far as I can see, my lot will not be cjvst much
iKiigor in this land, and I sliall be called upon l)efore long to make the
siciifue of position and iuHuence at the l)iddiiig of duty and honour.
Be it so. If the sword pierce the heart, Thou, Lord canst heal the
wound, otherwise mortal."
The other entry is one whose significance will be
recognised at once. It was written certainly for no
immediate purpose beyond that which determines
the keeping of a private journal at all ; but it is more
than probable that the thought was present to his
mind that at some future time it would be read,
perhaps that it ought to be read, by other eyes than
his own. That time lias now come. Not with ruth-
282
JV. MOM Lie Y PUNSHON.
[chap. X.
less, but with kindly hand death unlocks the drawers
of cabinets, and spreads before our eyes long hidden
papers to which our friends have entrusted the inmost
secrets of their hearts.
Journal.
" Deeeiitber 2tid, 1868. Toronto, C'anuda. — I overcome my reluctance to
Kct down my thoughts and feelings, iv reluctance which has mastered me
for many months, as this hiatus in my diary shows. The ' strange and
grave perplexities ' of which I spoke in a former entry deepened ajid com-
j)licated. My searchings of heart grew intenser, until, clear and full my
duty rose before me, and I have been strengthened to do it. At the Con-
ference of 1807 I was designated representative to the General Coaferencu
of the Methodist Episcopal Church in America, and President of the
Canadian and Eastern British American Conferences. I had previously
announced to the President, and to a large and influential Committee
(composed of all the ex-Presidents, the Revs. J. Bedford, President, E.
Hoole, W. B. Boyce, L. H. Wiseman, Rigg, Vasey, S. R. Hall, G. Smith,
C. Haydon, M'Owan, and J. H. James), that after much and prayerful
consideration of the subject, I deemed it my duty to man-y Fanny Vickers,
who has for nine years been the mother to my children, the only mother,
indeed, whom two have ever known. I detailed fully my motives and
reasons to Mr. Arthur, in a letter which he comforted me by sayinj;
was ' worthy of me, and of the grace of God in me.' In the fulfilment (if
tliis duty I hud to make great sacrifices, to consent to be misjudged, to
grieve some whom I loved, to lay my account with a publicity given to my
private affairs which is to me the heaviest cross of the kind that I could
be called to bear, to lose a position which had become assured by years of
service, to trample upon love of country (with me a passion), uo break up
old friendships, to bear the imputation of motives which my soul acorns,
and to bear it without answer, U^ found a home in a new world, and above
all, to imperil my usefulness. Yet my convictions of duty have never
wavered. I was married to dear Fanny on the 15th August by the Rev,
Egerton Ryerson, D.D., Dr. Anson Green and Dr. Lachlin Taylor being
my sureties. I am happy in my wife's love, and in my own strong assur-
ance that I have done right. The Lord my God, Whose guidance I have
invoked, lias not suffered me to be haunted by tlic shadow of a mis|,'ivin!,'
on this point. I cannot see the future. 1 am living from day to day. If
I cjin wait, calmly wait, my righteousness shall be brought out as tin
light, and my judgment as the noonday. My convictions that the law
forbidding marriage with the sister of a deceased wife is iniquitous and
opprossive, have been of many years standing. I examined into and settled
186;.]
DESTINY DECIDED.
283
the niiitter with myself before I had thought that I should ever be per-
sdiiiiUy involved in its applicjition. Hence, when the duty rose up before
nic. ami it seemed that a way was open to discharge it without entailing
eniliarrassment on the British Conference, I was strengthened to do my
(iuty. I claim no credit for it. I am not ambitious to be either a hero
iir a niiirtyr, but it has been cause of gratitude to me, who know my own
JKiiit, and its fc-^lish hankering after everybody's good opinion, that I was
not faithless nor craven in this hour of bitter trial, leading, however, in
Gods providence, to domestic happiness and the rest and comfort of home.''
Such were the terms in which he suhsequently
referred to the proceedings of the Conference and
their relation to his personal history. The ouly
record in his diary at the time is as follows : —
"Aiigit.4 lift, 1807. —My destiny decided. Designated President of
Canada Conference, and Representative to America."
A few weeks later he closed his ministry at Clifton.
He preached in the morning at Redland, and in the
eveiiing at Victoria Chapel, to overwhelming congre-
gations. All Bristol was represented ; it seemed as
though all Bristol would have heen present had there
been room.
As it was not his intention to go to Canada till the
following April, he liad now, and it might be for the
last time, several mouths at his own disposal. A
p;nt of the time he devoted to rest in Wales and
travel on the Continent, and the remainder to a series
of farewell visits to friends, and to preaching and
lecturing in various parts of the country. It was
necessary, however, to provide a temporary home,
and this he found in Milner Square, Islington.
He was by this time an accomplished continental
traveller. His knowledge of routes by rail, steam-
boat, and diligence, of hotels, currency, passports,
and tlie like, was both extensive and minute. He
284
IV. MORLKY rUNSHON.
[CHAP. X.
was equally good as a guide over a mountain pass
and in a picture gallery. He was experienced, but
not hlasi:^ enjoying still more deeply on acquaintance
what had delighted him at first. The journal of travel
which commemorates this latest tour is as ample and
as enthusiastic as the earlier ones. It is a hundred
quarto pages in length, written in his usual swift,
legible hand, and illustrated with no less than eighty-
three photographs. Keen enjoyment of life, strong
interest in men and things, and unfailing delight in
the beauties of nature and art, are evident in every
page. Room must be found for an exfcract or two.
" September 2i)th, 1867. — How worulcrfully, even in trifles, history repeats
itself. The ' autocrat of the breakfast table ' notices the consciousness
which sometimes flashes across a man tliat he lias been aforetime in pre-
cisely the sjime circumstances as those which were around him at the
moment. It was exactly on this day two years ago that I started, tlieu
also from 47, City Road, London, for the Continent, in company with the
same loved friend. Then, as now, the Chief Commissioners of Highways,
or Sewers, or Gas, or Paving, were at work on subterranean improvements,
' mending their ways,' on the 2r)th September, 1805 ; and on the 25th Sep-
tember, 18(57, I found and left them at the same labour.
" September 'lOth. — We made our way to the Exposition. It disappointed
me agreeably. The art treasures are comparatively pof>r : the best have
been familiar to us for years ; but the glass, porcelain, and re/iomse work
were exquisite. We visited the Bible stand, the missionary museum, and
the stand for the distribution of HeVjrew Scriptures to the Jews. Nearly
two million portions of the Divine Word have been dispersed in seventeen
languages to people who have been for the most part eager to receive
them. ... As the gong sounded for departure, the scene was indescribably
animating. The crowds poured forth, with every variety of countenance,
costume, a.id conversation, as if Bal)el had been let loose suddenly. My
heart wished that the Baljcl might speedily find a Pentecost to reverse
its doom."
After a few days in Switzerland, they crossed the
Simplon, and made their way leisurely and happily to
Venice, and thence to Innsi^ruck, Munich, Vienna,
[CHAP. X.
;ain pass
iced, but
laintance
of travel
,mple and
b hundred
ual swift,
lu eighty-
fe, strong
delight in
t in every
or two.
liistory repeats
! cf)Tisci()Usness
iretimc in pre-
nd him at the
I started, then
fipany with the
s of Highways,
improvements,
II the 25th Scp-
It disiippninted
the best have
rfjiouiid W(irk
museum, and
Jews. Nearly
d in seventeen
ger to receive
,s indescribably
if countenance,
uddenly. My
;ost to reverse
rossed the
1 happily to
Vienna,
1867.]
AT WITTKNBKRG.
«85
and Prague. On the return journey they visited
Wittenberg.
" We first made our way to the market-place, where are the newly-
crecteil statues of Luther and Melanchthon. Luther stands with an open
Bible in his hand. On the pedestal are four inscriptions : one stating that
the ground for the monument was given by the Count of Mansfeld, and
that ihe monument itself was erected by Frederick William III. ; a second
witii tlie inscription, ' lielievo in the Gospel ; ' a third, ' If it be God's
work ye cannot overthrow it ; ' and a fourth, ' Eiu feste Burg ist unser
Gott.' The statue of Melanchthon is likewise inscribed on the four sides
of the pedestivl. On the first, ' I will speak of Thy testimonies also before
kings, and will not be ashamed ; ' on the second, ' Endeavouring to keep
the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace ; ' on the third, an extract
from his wi'itings, ' When we have brought our souls to the fountain of
Christ, we have begun to be wise ; ' and on the fourth the announcement
that the foundation stone was laid by the present King of Prussia so lately
as the year 1860.
" It was market-day, and we had an opportunity I should have been
sorry to miss, of seeing Saxon peasantry at home. We have seen strange
costumes and customs sin^e we left England, but we have seen nothing
hke the spectacle in this Wittenberg market-place. It was full of stalls,
mostly kept by women who had come in long narrow carts, a dozen to-
gether. Here might be seen an old dame, sturdy and stalwart they are
for the most part, with a sort of woollen stocking for a head-dress, and
with clogs which bafiQe all description. Yonder you may see an equally
well-set man in a coat of pig-skin, coarsely, but plentifully ornamented
with a rough sort of frieze or fur. All kinds of drapery were exposed for
sale, and the strife of the rival dealers to get rid of their wares was most
animating. As we walked down the long street we came upon a very
popular exliibition, round which a large crowd was gathered. There was
stretched out, about fifteen feet in length, a series of Imrbarous pictures.
They represented scenes of love, jealousy, and murder. In every tableau
the end was blood, and it was plentifully spread over the cjinvass. On a
small tray in front of the proprietor was his stock-in-trade, the aifecting
histories which the pictures but faintly illustrated. He drove a thriving
trade, turning a dismal barrel-organ while turning a penny, wliile his Frau
accompanied him in a voice like the croak o^ a raven. I observed in the
The man had
with much
animation for several moments, and then the climax cjime. He stretched
forth his brawny arm, and unostentatiously, but effectually — \oi^d her
B««e .' .'
'• At the end of the long street stands the Schloss Kirche, on the gates of
market-place a singular meeting between man and maid.
evidently a tenderness for the damsel. They conversed
s
'HiiHi
mm
m
VV. MORLEY PUNSIION.
[chap. X.
which wore affixed the ninety-five thmen of Luther, protcMting agjiinHt tlit
Hiile of indulgences. Tlie old gjiten have lieen removed, but in their place
are fine bronze doora, put there by the King of Prussia, on wliicli tlie
thene^ are engraven. I touched the door with my hand, and in my spirit
evoked another Luther to stir into fresh life the effete and shrivelled
thing which men call Protestantism now. We entered the church, and
then, near the high altivr, stood reverently on the dust of Luther anil
Melanchthon.
" The next spot of interest was Melanchthon's house, with an inscription
on the front, ' Here lived, taught, and died Philip Melanchthon.' We
passed on from this until we reached the first building through the forti-
fication, the old University, at the rear of wliich is Luther's house. You
enter through the portal. The house stands in the corner on the left. On
one of the corbels of the door is his effigy ; on the other, his seal, a heart
with a cross. Here is the very place where that large heart unbent in
kindliest humanness from day to day, and where that great spirit went
out in prayer, and wiia stirred to hei-oism. This second room was Luther's
home . . . the rich panelled ceiling, the quaint windows, the elaborate
stove, the strong oaken door, tlie table, the chairs where he and his
Catherine sat vix-a-vin, his beer-glass — for he was no total-abstainer— his
candlestick, the sampler which his wife's hands wrought, the psalter from
which that rich voice sang its daily praises unto God. This is Luthers
home. It is a hallowed spot, awing the soul as if some strong presence
bore it down. There is also a curious bas-relief of Luther, with the
inscription
" ' Papa, pestis eram vivus,
Moriens, ero mors tua.'
" The word ' Papa' with strange significance, is printed upside down."
This holiday lasted a month, and the Journal con-
cludes thus : —
" October 25th. — At 6'30 a.m. we arrived at Charing Cross, and an hour
later at City Road, having accomplished a journey of 30(14 miles, without
let or hindrance. I write these words with a thankful heart, and pray that
I may be wiser and better for this experience of travel.'
The next few months were all too short for leave-
taking in all parts of the country. It seemed as
though everj'^ place where he had ever preached or
lectured claimed a i'arewell visit before his departure.
1867.1
LETTER TO ITIS DAUdTTTER.
287
But amid sill his public eugagements, Iiis lioart
dwelt imioh at home with his children.
LETTEU to IMS r)Al!e called, rose up in arms against it, and I
feel as tliough the first thing I had to do to-day was to vindicate my own
consistency. My feeling is unchanged. Although I would not willingly
I liave dispensed with this meeting, so far as personal feeling is concerned, I
19
IH|I
ilW'
290
/F. MO R LEY PUNSflON.
[chap X.
would luivu diHpoiiHud with tliu toHtimoniiil <»f which you invito my iicnp-
tanco. I feel, us I wiid in a luttur which I vuiiturud to publish, thiit I du
not doscrvo it, and that I do not dcHiru it. Hut thcris is a point iMymnl
whi(;li rcsiHtanoo IxtcomeH ungratofnl, and it would certainly not liavc Uin
in my natui-o to trauiplu upon thu kindnuAH of my fricndH, for then; mvir
WUH u poriod in my life when I woa more thoroughly avuriuiouM of gmd
will.
" Some three and twenty yeai-H ago I first made the acquaintjinco of my
CHteomed friend Mr. Arthur. Before I entered the ministry inysilf, I
was accuatomed to look up to liim as one in whose footsteps I sliould liki
to tread. He was then stirring the public mind of Rngland l»y his firs:
addresses upon India, just after his return from the missionary field, an!
some portion of that holy fire which burnt sweetly a>ul brightly, utid with
no eccentric flame, seemed to communicate itself from his addresHes and
from his pul|)it ministrations to me. I rejoiced, moreover, in Mr.
Arthur's example, Itecjiuse I tliought that a certain ideal which I liiui Inni;
hae realised, — the ideal of a minister of the truth
who did not disdain the graces of style, and who could appreciate sonii-
what even of exuberance in the imagination of others, but who at tht
same time took care in all his utterances to aim at the heart. I did tint
then imagine that there was any incongruity between the two things, and
I do not imagine so now. I have never had any reason to change tht
opinion I then formed, that it was possible to present truth in the fomi
most congenial to my own mind and imagination, and at the same time
deal sternly with the conscience. I cannot — though I may seem to ' apeak
as a fool ' in saying so — I cannot remember the time when I did not try, at
any rate, to deal with the conscience. I set it before me in the Iwginnini;"
of my ministry, and although that ministry has teen marked by many ini
perfections, which none feel more painfully than I do, I know that I have.
by the grace of God, tried to save sinners.
" When I becivme a Methodist preacher I beg-an where I should like al!
young men to begin now — in one of the worst Circuits of Methodism. I
started from the lowest step of the ladder, and I am q\nte sure the disci-
pline was an immense advantage to me. . . . After the first ten years of my
ministerial life, a wonderful fact was brought to my knowledge by my
late dear friend, Edward Corderoy, who had a fancy for arithmetiail cal-
culations of that kind. It may be remembered that I was enabled, liy
God's blessing, to raise in six months, by lecturing, some thousjvnd pouiul>
for the relief of Spitalfields Chapel. Edward Corderoy, as some of ynu
remember, wrote a series of letters on ministerial stipends. In the coiirounvmi)atliise greatly with the efforts which our nonconformist brethren
j ;nv making : I do not look upon them in the spirit of jealorsy — I
ikvir did. May God bless all our Chuichos, and always ! 1 uo not
know whether we shall meet on earth again. I trust we shall. But 1
want to walk in the way God would have me, and do just what He wills
me to do.
' Serve witii a single lieart and eye
And to His glory live and die.' "
Thus did his frieuds seud bim forth, encompassed
with their love and followed by their prayers, as with
cahii aud steadfast mind he faced the unknown future,
a'ld went to find a vocation and a home beyond
the sea.
5 —
m
iH
CHAPTER XI.
1868.
CANADA. A(/ed 44.
Voyage to New York. — Church Building in America. — First Impn<-
Hions of Canada. — General Conference of MethodiHt Epiacopal Churcli,
Chicago. — Conference Excursion. — Camp Meetings.
On April 14th, 1868, Mr. Punshon, accompanied by
his eldest son, sailed from Liverpool for New York,
The voyage is thus described in his letter to the
Methodist Becorder of London : —
" Our good ship, the Seotiu, perhaps the finest mercantile vessel aflniit,
left Liverpool with a fair wind, and steamed rapidly down the clianiiel.
with one hundi-ed and fifty-three pas-sengers bound for the Western AVorlJ.
The sea was so calm and bright that many deluded themselves into
f orgetfulness that it was treacherous as an April sky. We made Queens-
town harbour by 8 a.m. on the morning of Sunday, April i2th, and waittd
there until half -past three for the latest mails to come on board. ... I
suppose there can be nothing more humbling than a voyage at sea. It is
a marvellous mortifier of pride. The most pompous Don Sancho is noi
likely to stand upon his dignity when he can hardly stand upon his M.
I believe there are those who are so abnormally constituted as to feel a
defiant pleasure in the wayward element, but I do not aspire to such lofty <
philosophy. I am content, as a rule, to admire the grandeur of the waves |
from the shore, and am not insensible to the force of that particular part
of ' the rest that remaineth,' which is assured by the promise that ' there
shall be no more sea.' . . . Still there is something grand even to awful- [
ness in the thought of utter helplessness which you feel at sea. Skr |
and water, with no living thing visible over the vast expanse ; for da
together, just your own vessel with its human freight — and God ! To |
i868.]
yOVAG/C TO NEW YOR/C,
<93
tlu)U((litfuI miiui thoru in no Hurur tciicliing \wi\\ of humility and of
mist.
•• From tlio tinio wc entered the Atlantic until t-loHe upon our arriviil in
Xiw York, we had i)erHistent liead-wiiidH, ho that, if we would advance at
nil. wc must nuike gallant way against them. Indoud, tuivu only that wo
wi'if mercifully preserved from peril, we hail in our elevtMi day's voyage a
ioiii|trt'ssi(iM of the experience of all possiiile voyages. I could not help
tliiiikiiig it set forth in similitude the history of many a Christian life.
Culm at the start ; broken and troui)led water when the Athmtic surges
mt- us ; heavy gules, blowing furiously against our progreH.s ; a sea
majestic in its wrath, now making the ship to shaki' with trembling, now
(iniicliing it with showers of spray ; the presence of three large icebergs,
Uiiiitiful but dangerous neighbours ; a shroud of fog which wnipped the
liuiivtns from our sight for a day and a half, during which the dreary fog-
horn groaned out its dirge-like sound ; calmer water as we approached the
liuul : and then a brilliant sun, and a sea of exquisite beauty, an we sailed
through the Narrows and anchored in a fair haven.
"The pa.sscugers who are gi-ouped together in tempomry intercourflo on
the voyage, are always an interesting study. Ours were for the most pait
intelligent and gentlemanly, with mujh respect for the ordinances of
religion. They were of several nations, and of many pursuits in life. A
Xiw York biuker and a Boston editor sit side by side with Liverpool
niercluiiits and young English soldiers. Yonder is a Spanish count, bilious
iind gloomy — here an aged apostle of temperance, who has spent a fortune
ill the spread of information upon its principles, and who has just had an
interview with the Emperor of the French, whom he hopes to convert by
iind l»y, There is the popular author of Franilcy Parsuiuujr, yonder the
stump onitor' of a company of itinerant minstrels — popular also,
though on a lower level. Here is a lady with two children, on her way
to join her husband in California, who will be six weary weeks before
>he readies the end of her travel. We had also on board a cool specimen
of an Americjin trader, who was currently rumoured to have with him a
Ijuge quantity of what would be purchased at Niagara, as genuine ' Table
Rook.' l)ut which was in reality Derbyshire spar, which he had been to
England to buy.
" It was a work of no small difficulty, and yet a privilege of no common
order, to be jiermitted to preach on two Sablwitlis in the ship's siiloon.
The motley gjithering — the crew (all of them who could be spared from
duty), dressed in their Sunday best, and gi'ouped in the lower part of
the sjiloon ; the passengers of different nations, habits, Ixjliefs, modes of
thought, Init all reverently gathered for the acknowledgment of God, and
all apparently sincere in their responses to the littvny of prayer, and respect-
ful in tlicir listening to the Word of Life — made the services at once novel
iiid impti'ssive. Our captain read the Liturgy — an office which he never
m
IV. MO R LEY PUJ^SMOM.
[CHAI'. X!
delegates to another, and right well he read it too — with a sonorous voice
and appropriate emphasis, to attain which many an authorised reader of the
service on land might well sit at his foot — and I endeavoured afterwards
to rouse my hearers and myself to Christian manlinoss and heroism. The
' bread ' thus ' cast upon the waters ' may haply be ' found after many
days.'
" A welcome awaited me before landing in New York ; the provident
kindness of some friends in England had secured that I should be met on
the steamer, and the passage of my luggiige tlirough the customs facilitated.
For this I was very gi-atoful, for the five or six hours' waiting Ixiforo you
can got fairly landed is irksome and oppressive.
" In the evening.' I went with my host to St. Paul's Methr'list Episcopal
Church, a fine marble building, which will seat about twelve huiidnd
persons. The week-evening services, however, are not hold in the church
but in the lecture room. The lecture was brief — a pointed and well
reasoned cxliortation to fidelity, based upon the promise that ' a faithful
man shall be blessed of the Lord.' After the lecture the leaders were
called forward, and a prayer meeting began. Tiio minister kept only a
nominal load of the mooting, persons from the body of the room starting
:.. lively verso as the inspiration seemed to prompt them ; but the prayers
were thoughtful and fervent, and those who prayed had power with God.
The nrayer-meeting in turn resolved itself into a brief band-meeting, and
within about a quarter of an hour five of the members, male and female
had spoken their exporiencos. It had the good, sound, Methodist ring
about it, and I augured well for the Church whose inner life was thus
healthy and abiding. Among those who spoke at the band-meeting was
the wife of one of the Bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church.
Before the meeting broke up I was introduced to the Church, and made
welcome to American soil, and all was done with a frank and heartj
brotherliness which affected mo not a little.
" There was to bo on the following day the dedication of a new anil
elegant church in Williamsburg, a suburb of the city on the Brooklyn
side, and the minister who was appointed to preach in the evoiiiuj,' wa*
taken suddenly ill, and as it scorned an cmei-gency, I overcame my leluct
anco and ojienod my commission in America in the empire city. Bishop
Janes introduced me kindly to the people, and I felt freedom ami some
measure of power in proclaiming the Word of Life. There were several
things which struck me as novelties. Immediately in front was a tabk
for the reporters, to the right of the tribune a pedestal on which \n>
a very beautiful bouquet of flowers. The church was lighted like the
British House of Commons, and the rays streaming through coiound
glass fell with a softened lustre which was cheerful without Ih'I",:.'
dazzling. The total cost of the church was $-_'00,0()0, or about i:40.iW
My only regret about it is that five less expensive churches have not beti;
i868.]
CHURCH liUHJHNG IN AMKRTCA.
2Q5
built instead of this costly one, although for the large accommodatioTi of
every kind which has Ixien proviiled, the money is not ill-l)estowed.''
To a man of strong sympathies, the customs aud
institutions of his native land become so dear that
something of antipathy to foreign institutions and
customs seems almost inevitable. What is of
another land is to us Englishmen ridiculous, and
we must borrow of another tongue the word
foreifpi — a word free from the smack of contempt
that clings to our native word outlandish. The
best cure for this prejudice, natural to all men, but
particularly strong in Englishmen, is travel — per-
sonal observation and experience of other lands and
peoples. This is a sure cure in the case of thought-
ful, generous minds, where the vice in question is
but a virtue gone to seed. Such a mind was Mr.
Punshon's, and such was the immediate effect of
travel on his mind.
Evidences of changed convictions may from time
to time be seen in him ; but his broadened sympathies
did not narrow again, and become confined to the
land of his adoption. Instances of such reaction are
not wanting in America. Men have come from the
Old World to the New with the most violent preju-
dices against everything in the New, and in favour
of everything in the Old. After a few years such
ill-balanced heads are found com])letely turned,
loving all that once they hated, and alas ! hating
all that once they loved. However Mr. Punshou
may have learnt to tolerate, and even to admire,
some of the peculiarities of the New World, Old
England never for one moment lost her hold on
bis loyalty and affection.
20
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. XI.
The architecture of the Brooklyn Church, at whose
dedication he assisted, impressed him as something
new. He had just come from a land of a National
Church, and of grand architectural monuments—
the work of many generations. The instinct of the
religious feeling to express itself in art had been
satisfied in England, and modern religious activity
was turned in other directions. But in America
are no Westminster Abbeys, and no venerable
cathedrals — the heir-looms of the ages. The men
of this age must be the builders, and if the art-
instinct is to be satisfied at all, it must be by
free churches and voluntary endeavour. Upon the
Methodist Church in America, therefore, has come
a burden and a privilege from which the Methodist
Church in Great Britain has been to a great extent
relieved. The different aspect of things at once im-
pressed him, but he did not perceive all at once the
forces at work, or the reasons why the Methodists
of Brooklyn did not build five less expensive
churches instead of this costly one. At a later
period he fully realised the different claims of
different circumstances, and heartily responded to
them. lu the city of Toronto, as we shall see by
and by, he was the most active spirit in the build-
ing of the Metropolitan Church — the most imposing
church in a city that is sometimes called the City
of Churches.
The following are his observations and impressions
of peculiarities, some of which, we hope, are soon
to disappear. It may be well, therefore, to have a
record of them : —
" The Methodist Book Concern, in a clingy street, is a very commodious
i868.]
OBSERVATIONS\ AND IMPRESSIONS.
297
building, and the centre of an enterprising trade. The publishers showed
me the proof of my own Cliimex, in which they had established a private
copyright without any knowledge on my part. They have succeeded in
bringing out a much handsomer volume than the original. I suppose
I ought to feel fljvttered and grateful for the compliment, but somehow I
don't. They say it is only a mild example of the Ipx talionis, as some of their
works have recently been published in England. Well, I suppose after
we have both 'shot the rapids,' there will be an international copyright
Ijy whicli our remote posterity may gather the fruit of their own labour.
• After two days' enjoyment of the frank and generous hospitality of
New York friends — a hospitality which could not have been greater
or more freely exercised, I took my seat with a strange sense of novelty
' on board ' the cars for the long railway ride to Montreal. An English-
man, who is a sort of travelling mollusc, very apt to draw into his shell,
has something to overcome before he can approve the American system of
cars, where, according to the Irishman's reckoning, 'one man is as good
as another, ami a great deal better.' Fancy long unwieldy carriages, a
gieat height above the track, in which sixty or eighty people, wlio have
no privilege of choice, are huddled together. Here is a bishop who wants
lo study his forthcoming homily, — but on a seat with him is a baby who
breaks in upon the thread of the bishop's discourse at intervals, by de-
livering a discourse of its own with much earnestness and ' with no
language but a cry.' Here are emigrants with their bundles ; there are
soldiers with their arms ; yonder are felons en route to the State prison.
S(me of your fellow-passengers are — well, say salivacious ; some are
stertorous, some are infragrant, some are inquisitive. But there you
are with no privacy, and no rest, if you travel for a thousand miles.
Well, but the sleeping cars, what of them ? Are they not a luxury un-
known in the eastern world ? If the roads were s
much in the condition of the man who looked doAvn the chimney at the i
Ri", and who was bewildered and blinded by the smoke. It would not, I
therefore, be fair to record it. Further observation convinced nie of the
majesty of the Conference, and of its enormous moial power. 1 do not |
think it is so orderly nor so reverent as our own. The presence of enthii
siaatic strangers, who applauded as if they had a right to do so, and whonii j
certain occasions ai-e asked to vote, is a sore temptation to speech-miiki":
The mode in which they express their wish for a vote to be counted seenis|
,868.] GENERAL CONFERENCE AT CTTTC AGO.
301
to 1)0 uiilmppy. When tlie bishop has ruled a question to be ciirried on a
show (if hands, some brother will jerk out the wonl ' IJoubted,' when the
vote must he taken again and the numbers declared ; I siw this done on
one occasion when there were some twenty votes on one side and nearly
two hundred on the other. But with all this, there is a devotedness, a
oneness of purpose, a careless sense of freedom, an appreciativeness of
ifood intention, a general moderation, a brotherly kindness, and an evident
and self-sjicrificing desire for the glory of Christ, that are al)ovc all
pniise. Tiie kindness of the Conference and of the bishops to myself f)er-
Miiially, or rather to myself officially, for they saw in me the repiv.sentative
(if the Britisli Conference, was unbounded. Bishop Janes met me at the
station on my arrival, though it was eloven o'clock ,.t night, and the three
senior l)ishops met rac at the cars on my departure, and very cordially
wished me (Jod speed. I feel unworthy to be thus served by men at
whose feet I would willingly sit, because of their experience and successes
in the Martter's service. I suppose I must have shaken hands with the
wliole Conference, so many pressed forward — some full of old country
memories ; some with brimming eyes at some roused thought of home ;
>. .e iruc Americiins, but with frank and kindly feeling to Great
Brit;iin — and all servants of Christ ; and wearing themselves out in His
toil. Amongst others I was glad to gi-asp the haiul of Peter Cartwright —
full of ycai-s, but racy and trenchant as ever — while many whose names
are well known in England, Durbin, Kidder, McClintock, George and
Jesse J. Peck, Slicer of Baltimore, Eddy, Curry, Ftv-ster, H.avcn, etc.,
honoured me with their conversation and friendship. This General
Conference has Ixsen noticeable for the admission of coloured men as
ilelegjites. There were seven of them, fine, intelligent-looking men, of all
skides, from glossy black to dingy brown. T was glad to be permitted to
l)e present, when by a vote, which w^as practically unanimous, colour was
adjudged to be no longer a disqualification for any office in the Church.
Hail to the day when true freedom shall prevail, and the great tides of
love flood with all-embracing waves the little miserable enclosures, ' in
whose eddying depths,' earth's charity has been so often ' drowned.' "
On the 14th of May, Mr. Puushon was introduced
to the General Conference of the Methodist Epis-
copal Church, as the representative of the English
Vesleyan Church. At the same time were intro-
[duced the representatives of the Wesleyau Church
iuCauada, the Kev. Egerton Kyerson, D.D., LL.D.,
laud the Rev. Matthew Kitchie, D.D. Methodism in
ill
■m.i'.'i:
302
^F: MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XI.
Araoi'ica wur just entering tlie second century of its
existence. There were at that time under the juris-
diction of the Methodist Episco2)al Church, sixty-
eight annual Conferences, witli a menihersliip of
1,146,081 and a ministry of 8,000 men.*
Mr. Punshon was introduced to the Conference in
the kindest terms by Bisliop Janes, and was greeted
with enthusiastic and long continued applause.
His address produced a profound impression. It is
remembered and quoted to the present day. The
speaker showed, of course, that he understood tin
people and the matters that he was to represent, but
what surprised and won his hearers was the dis-
covery that he understood them also, and entered
with a rare and generous sympathy into their owu
thoughts and feelings.
The following reference to his predecessors is
characteristic of Mr. Punshon.
" I think of honoured men in whose footsteps I am called to tread. I
cannot forget that since your last general Conference, two of those who on
former occasions have worthily represented us have passed to their abiding
home. Tn the midst of the elders among you, I am persuaded that the
memory of Dr. Hannah is fragrant and undying. And you are remiiuleil
of his genius, of his spirit, and of his ripe theological learning, of the
charity which had its home in his heart, of his simple open face, ami
the pathos and power of his pulpit addresses, and of that odour of sanctity
which was expressed in every action of his life ; all these told even the
thoughtless of the blessedness of a walk with (iod. You will not wonder :ii
the affectionate veneration with which we are accustomed to enshrine in
our hearts the memory of that saintly man.
* According to the Methodist Year Book, there were in January 1, 188".
in the United States, 27,000 travelling preachers, and 4,000,000 membeis.
and a constituency of over l."),000,OUO, or more than one-fourth of the
population of the entire country — r)('),000,(!00. In the Methodist Episcopal |
Church alone were 12,800 travelling preachers, and 2,000,000 members ia j
full connection.
[CHAI'. XI.
bury of its
tlie juris-
i-cli, Hixty-
.hersliip of
Lifereiice in
A^as greetf^d
L applause,
sion. It is
day. The
.erstood tin
present, but
as the (lis-
and entered
their own
decessors is
lUed to tread. I
.,of those who on
Id to their abiding
irauaded that the
lyou are remiudfl
learning, of tlie
ie open face.aiul
[odour of s;i"L'tiiy
lese told even tlie
fill not wonder ;it
Id to enshrine in
L January 1, 18^''
r)oO,OOi) meml)eP'
jne-f ourth of tlie
IthodistEpiscopil]
T out) memljers in
i«68.] ADDRESSES THE GENERAL CONFERENCE. 303
And yet more fresh and vivid in the memory of most of you, will be
one who four years ago was tlie eloquent expositor of British Wesieyan
Methodism ; who, in your fair city of Philadelphia, glowed with his jilioiind-
iiii,' love towards the brethren, and liki! Klijah, was taken from us ; and to
wtmni such touching and proper reference was made in the achhess tliat
liiis been read. We were not prepared for Mr. Thornton's departui-e. He
hiul just returned from his visit to your shores with enlarged experience,
iind with the warmer love which springs from closer knowledge. We were
iinticipating for him wider fields and holier triumphs, when suddenly the
Master spake, and he was not ; and we were left in our sorrow to cry as
we tracked his flight : ' My Father, the chariots of Israel and the horse-
men thereof.' "
To a question then ranch discussed in Anglican
circles at home he referred as follows : —
" Perhaps some of jou may have read that there lias been conversation
al)Out us lately in a notable occlesiasticivl assembly, the convocation of the
ministry of the Established Church of England, in the province of York,
and that in the newspapers of the country there has been a good deal of
discussion about a contemplated reunion between us and the Church of
England. Now union is a very blessed thing. In view of the loss to the
world, it is a thousand pities there should be a distracted Church. . . .
There has been no proposition of union at all. There has been some
ulk of (ibnorption, and if you take the Pan-Anglican idea of the matter,
it would be the less absorbing the greater, which is a problem in dynamics
hitherto unknown. If we would only consent to be absorbed quietly we
might have certain concessions made. We should be allowed to have
spiritual services, and to be somewhat enthusiastic in our own way, and
some of us, highly favoured, might be ex.'ilted to positions of honour. So,
perhaps to read these things from f.ar, you may suppose we ni.ay lie
flattered by them, and that we are in danger of being ensnared ; but to us
they are simply amusing. The time has long gone by for us to listen to
any propositions of union except on equal terms.
"We are not 'united Societies ' now ; we are a Churcli, with a godly
[Order, with a compact and yet flexible organisation, with a [»ure creed,
j witli gospel authority, with a practical and workable discipline, with
a Divine and hallowed life. And there are hundreds of thousands of
those who are our joy and crown to whom we can say in the words of the
Book, ' If we are not apostles unto others, doubtless we are apostles
unto you, for the seal of our apostleship are ye in the Lord,' and our
1 answer to them that do examine us is this. . , ."
' I do rejoice most unf eignedly that, by the kindness of my brethren, I
I im permitted to-day to bear to you their fraternal greetings, to a.ssure you
304
ir. MOKKKY PUNSllON.
[CIIAl',
XI.
' il
that the oiitiro RritiHli Conference fcelrt towards yoii and towanlK your
nation tlio very Iieartiest goo
future may l)c a future of increasing glory. May the great city in wliidi
we are assembled, a city without parallel for rapidity of growtii in the
world, be the type of your national prosperity ! They tell me tliat it wa.<
lifted up out of the swamp so noiselessly that men ate and drank during
the process without inconvenience and without fear.
" Now that is the moral achievement which I hope for you. Not onlv
on account of patriotism, not only because of fraternal feeling, hut in mj
hope for the world do I trust that the two great nations whicii we n
spectively represent may woi-k always in harmonious accord."
To TiiK "MKTHonisT Rkcokdek."
" They do things on a large scale in America. The directors of the nil
way invited the Conference to an excursion to tlie Mississippi, a trifliii!,' |
distance of a hundred and eighty-eight miles, and on Saturday, ]May Itiih
three hundred and six availed themselves of the invitation. As we pimJ I
along our sensations of wonder were so frequently excited that it grew inn
a marvellous journey. I found myself seated lx;side a stalwart, weather-
beaten minister, who claimed to introduce himself on the original grounJ |
that he, as a membfir of the Genrral Cnnferenrc, had trarelled fwirr as fMi«
attend its seaaions as I had. I could not help admiring the energy whicii
had brought him so far, perhaps to sit speechless in a crowded church for I
a month. Anon came another marvel. We were crossing a veritaHel
prairie, 'a boundless contiguity' of grass, without a particle of 'shade,
There it stretched for miles on miles — flat, green, fertile, endless. It wj
my first acquaintance with a prairie, and it required but little fiincvtol
realise all I ever read — elk and antelope, wcdf and buffalo; the bullfM.1
making night hideous ; the prairie-bird flashing on the wing ; dusiiyj
Indians trapping fur, their game, and no sign of a pale-face to creattl
either astonishment or anger. But railroads are sad iconoclasts, and tkl
iron horse hiis frightened from the track all these accompaniments of tkj
former time, and has borne hither thriving farmers who flourish and fatteil
i868.]
CAMP MEETINGS.
30.S
upon tlu^ affluent soil. Uy and by thi' hroiul stn^am of the MiRsissippi waH
rciiclii'il and (TdsscmI, anil wd wiiro in tin; Statu of Iowa. The end of our
I'xcursiiin wius tho city of (Jlinton, nundMiiiii^' hdvi'Ii thousand iidiahitantH,
witli liimdsonio stroetH, sliops, hotoln, cluh-liouscH, etc., iill of Htone. In
lRi')4, just fourteen years ago, it was all |)rairie ! On tlie arrival of tho
ixtursion train at Clinton, wo walked in prociission to the hotel, where
■\\\\m\mm]>iu repast had Inien prepared by a united effort of all Christian
(lunomi nations in the city.
••I loft Chicago with regret. It liecanie endeared to me by much
hospitality. Indianapolis was next visited, and then Cincinnati, the
•Porkopolis ' of tho Union — a fine, liand.sonie city, with a decidedly
Englisii appearance, and the suburbs of which, called Clifton, would not
(lisgTiice the Clifton of my memory and love. Here T sjHjnt a very
iiiterustirig Sabi)ath, and preached in a pulpit proviiled with two rather
iKivi'l articles of furniture— a fan and spittoon. In coming out of tho
cliurch I was accosted with, ' How are yon, sir ; I am from Bristol,' with
a warm shake of the biind, and an eye in whic^h the tears were dancing.
.V few paces more, and a husband ami wife stopped me : ' We arc from
Slieffield ; we were lK)th in Messrs. C-
chief ; but many with whom I conversed, and thosr among the tlioiiijlitful
and godly of our people, both in the States and in Canada, assured mi
that their fruits abound and abide.
Tlie following account of an Indian camp-ineeliui,'
was written some two years after Mr. Pimslioti's
arrival in America, but it is given here with his
description of the latest type of camp-meetiiig as
seen at Sing Sing, and the more primitive type as
seen at Wilton : —
" In company with several ministers and friends, I embarked at CollinL'-
wood on the steamer Wanhumt bound for Parry Sound, wliere a ranip
meeting of whites and Indians was being held. The Georgian Bay, who* I
vast expanse stretched out before us, is a miglity arm of Lake Huron,:
is said to contain more than twenty tliousand islands of all siz-es, many it I
them rocky and desolate, but some fertile and exquisitely wooded. AsiuH
of twenty-four miles brought us to a group of islands named respectively I
' Hope,' ' Bockwitli,' and ' Christian ' — embinced in our Church enterim* j
as the Christian Islands Mission. Here we took on board the missionary.
im.]
CAMP MKl'.TliWGS.
.W
all sizes, many '
hifi f;iniily, i\nr») is \\ neat <'linrcli on tlu' most
thickly iH!opleuld k i
gi'cat tn)uble to me ; but it has l)een a great joy. There has not bw"
a hard word — everything has gone on with the greatest harmony— and I
was graciously helped in the public services as I have rarely l)ccu befi«'
I am now on my way to the Eastern Ameriam Confeience. I hope to
reach St. John on Friday afternoon— this is Tuesday. The distances are ,
[chap. XIl.
1868.]
LETTERS TO FRIENDS.
313
m to any
a, certainly
3 reception
from the
ristian and
putation by
and spirit.
our Scotch
mt, against
; of the en-
en."
,he story of
time show
rieuds, with
3n when he
ities of his
i««c lG
children glorify
assure you, sinw
|cd by travel, iiiui
[>llowship of nun.
pr the most pari
:irablc i)arty feel-
liat it would U'a
lere has not bw"
1 harmony— aii'l I
Irely been bef"R-
lence. 1 hope to
Dhe distance.s arc I
indeed magnificent. I have tr.ivelled nearly seven thousand miles since I
left home, and it is very fatiguing, liec!ivu.so so many of the trains run in
the night. I cjime down to the wharf at two o'ch)ck to-day, hoping to go
liy steamer to Montreal, and h) ! when I arrived, the Government, with-
(Uit giving notice to anylwdy, had chartered the l)oats for the conveyance
of troops, and so there was no boat ! aiul I have to travel three hundred
and thirty-three miles to Montreal by che dusty, slow, democratic rail, and
;dl l>y night. You have had some changes in Enghmd since I left. Poor
Spence Hardy ! Father Squance was in the Beuhih country when I was
in Portsmouth in February. Dr. Andrews, and old S. Freeman are both
gone home too, and among my friends — Mrs. Bailey, Clement Heeley's
daughter. Mr. Newton of Thornclilfe, and poor Mrs. Hird of Leeds. So
we all pass away ! I hope you will have a good Conference. We send
\y\\ Harper — a good man and true — as representative."
The odd pet name given to his daughter in the
followiug letter, was recognised hy father and child
as a symbol of the peculiar love between them ; and
it xom a peculiar love. On the one side, the tender
yearning of a father's heart, exalted by a chivalrous
reverence for woman, unconsciously commanded by
the maiden. On the other side, an admiration akin
to \Yorship, the artless love of a child, a fearlessness
that would reprove the impulsive word or act, the
thought unworthy of him, and a motherly solicitude
by which the strong man was comforted in the time
of his pain and sorrow, *' as one whom his mother
coinfortcth."
To His Dauoiitkk.
" FUKDKICKTOX, N. BRUNSWICK, J^f/«. "l^^th, 18G8.
"My own dear Tibbie, .... This is the third letter I have written
ilircetly and exclusively for yourself. I suppose it will reach you before
you leave London for Liverpool, and tend to cheer you in the voyage, with
tlie a.ssuranccs (if you need them) of papa's unchanging and tender affec-
tion. T hope you will not be very disgusted with this country, as I find
Jolui William says he is. You would iu)t think ho was, to see him some-
times. . . . Ho has no cause to bo disgusted, unless his noted attachment
to Old Enghmd renders him inscnsil)le to the kindness of friends and the
Iteauty of scenery elsewhere. Tt shall l)e my study, darling Fanny, to
II'!
m
314
JV. MORLRY PUNS HON.
[CHAP. XII
make you happy when you come into this New World. You will feel, I
daresay, parting from old friends and scenes ; hut with those you love mid
who love you near, and with as much civiliziition as a new unfinislied
country can furnish, you may manage perhaps to get along pretty wpII,
This is a be; utiful place in which we are located — the residence of tlie
Hon. Judge Wilmot, who expects in a few days to be gazetted Oovornor
.Vow Brunswick. The house is of wood, but beautifully covered with
vini ,-,, and the grounds are exquisitely laid out and very extensive
How did you enioy the Handel Festival ? I thou,Tht of you very much
that day. I hope you are keeping your heart with all diligence. Tn the
absence of the means of grace you will get slack and cold unless there ]*•
spc(;iiil watchfulness and pi'ayer."
To E. D .
"Mi:ai)VILI,e, Pe\n., Jahj 'AOlli, 18G8.
'' J am on iiy M'ny to New York, to await the arrival of the ' Scotia.
Anc^ itrr nge to T am too agitated and apprehensive to be happy. I
don'i I'e.n "nber 1 ..■" trials of faith, nor more frequent recurrences of
'the dark noui, clui; ; ,tr been my portion during the last month.
Happily, in my deepest depression, I have had no misgiving about ray
duty. ... Of course, God, who has led me hitherto, may be better to me
than my boding fears. And may take care ' at once,' as dear Mr. Artliiir
said, ' of me and of Hia own cause.' I trust He will. I would fain serve
Him yet in the Gospel of His Son. . . . God bless you for all past kind-
ness, and sympathy, and upholding."
On the 4tli of August his family reached New
York. He writes, " Thank God, they are here safe,
and our four months' exile is over at last."
This four months' exile was but the beginning of
what he expected to be a life-long expatriation. The
sister of his deceased wife had been for ten years fill-
ing a mother's place to his four motherless children,
and by her faithful ministry making his house a home,
That such a man should learn to love such a woman
need surprise no one ; but the law of England forbade
him to make her his wife — a statute of the year 1835
declaring marriage with a deceased wife's sister
illegal. He would have submitted to this law,
though he considered it unjust, and treated the
iS68.]
MARRIAGE.
,^15
luiiiistoriiig angel of his home as his own sister. But
this would not satisfy others, for his love was not
concealed, and to please them he must either remove
lier from his home or marry another. A way of
escape from such alternatives was unexpectedly
opened up. There came from the Methodist Cliurch
in Canada, a request that he would become their
President and dwell amongst them.
lu Canada there were not the same legal objectioiiK
to ids marriage as obtained in England, whilst the
sentiment, and usages, and judgment of the country
were adverse to the English statute. After long con-
sideration, and full consultation with his brethren in
tlie ministry and his trusted friends, he accepted the
call of the Canadian Church. How great the sacrifice
was to him may be imagined by those who knew his
intense love for his native land, his strong attach-
ment to his personal friends, and his devotion to the
Church to which he had given the first years of his
strength.
On the 15th of August, in the city of Toronto,
Mr. Punshon was married to Miss Vickers. The
maniage ceremony was performed by the Rev.
Egerton Ryerson, LL.D., the Nestor of Canadian
Methodism.
What rest and comfort and happiness were in that
[home can never be forgotten by those who knew it.
I Its memory lingers like the memory of summer.
Such a home had been the undoing of some men — of
men who would have turned its rest into ease, and its
comfort into indulgence ; but he never ceased to be
"in labours more abundant and in journeyings often."
The comforts and joys of home were not suffered to
3i6
TV. MORLRY PUNSHON.
[chap. XII,
hinder, but were made to help liiiri iu the Master's
service.
To M. F — .
"Cmi'Ton Hoi'sFm NiAdAKA, Anguxt. 18/A, 18118.
" It struck me you would like to receive a letter with the iiliovu lieiul-
ing ; iuul although it is a sultry afternoon, and I feel oppressed with a
strange weariness, yet I have roused myself to sit down for the purpow,
My wife is by my side, the cataracts roar outside, things of beauty which
are joys for ever, images of sublime immensity which awe, while they
entrance the soul. . . . You will not have lived perfectly until you have
seen Niagara. . . . Fanny Junior comes to-morrow, to stay here till
Saturday, and tlien (l>.v.) we take possession of our new home. May it
be a happy one. It will l)e, I trust, a household consecrated to the senioe
and glory of God.''
To TUK Rkv. Thomas M'Cum.aoh.
"New Youk, Octabfr \'2th, 1808,
" I have purposed ever since my an-ival on these shores to send you
a friendly line, but ' work, work, work,' is the lex rikc of a JMethodisi
preacher in either hemisphere, and so I have been ' let hitherto.' Whiii i
we used to be so near each other in Cumberland, I little thought that tk'
great gulf would separate us, ' but there is a divinity which shapes our |
ends, rough-hew them how we will.' . . . Our good host, Mr. Elliott,!
a reception for us on Friday night. . . . Dr. Durbin, Dr. Carey, and I
a host of New York notables were among the number. Abel Stevens
could not come, but was here to dinner yesterday. He is a fine, genial
fellow. I enjoyed his society thorouglily. Yesterday afternoon we liearJ
Dr. Tyng, one of the eminent Episcopalian clergymen, and at night went
over to Brooklyn to hear Henry Waid lieechcr. It was a strange mi.x-
ture of slang, scholarship, point, and p<^wer. . . . We have a nice house I
in Toronto, and do not lack any comfort, I think, which we had in I
Engliind, except the occasional sunshine of the countenances of ourj
friends. . . .
" Memory lingers very often on old scenes and friends, and any tidings!
of them is very grateful. You seem to have had an interesting Con|
ferencc. What with Thomas Jackson, and Dr. Pusey, and the Timf, '-
Punch, Methodism is in its silver-slipper state, indeed. Here in Canadiiitl
is a great power. The freedom with which it works out here, with no|
shadow of an established Church to darken it, is amazing. Only think, I
lectui-ed the other day in Newbury, a thriving Canadian village of eigti
hundred inhabitants. There is oidy one Church, and that the Methodist^
one. The Episcopalians have a small room which they hire, and in wlncbi
they have a service once a fortnight !
8.]
KEEPING CHRISTMAS.
317
oher \2th, 18G8.
shores to send ynu
hv of a :Methodist '
I, liitherto.' "Wlwi
,1c tbought that the
Y which shapes our
"The Cohtiiial Office has just sent out a table of precedence for Canada,
whii'h has been received with indignation and contempt, for bishops and
;ir(lil)i!*hops arc mentioned aljove privy-councillors, etc. One of the papers
hius made the country merry by finding out that the senior bishop in the
Uoiniiiiou is good old Bishop Richardson, a one-armed, plain, homely
Methodist, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, which in Canada is a very
fnictiDiial part of tlie population, but as the table does not specify what
8(irtof a bishop, lie, of course, will rank above all the rest. Our Canadian
[ireachers are an earnest set of men, and some of them are very
superior. ..."
JoUKNAl..
" Deceiiiber 2i>tli., 18GH. — Tlirough the various and eventful seasons this
hallowed day has come, my first away from tiie old land, but the spirit of
the Advent is the siime, and the same dear Stiviour smiles. Though most
of my friends join with ' the herald angels ' in my native land, and some
have been transferred into their own choir, I must afresh enter into
cdveiiant to-day — a covenant which I never subscribed more heartily, for I
am oppressed by the great goodness of God. Truly, great as have been
my trials, my mercies are gieater, and to-day I would humbly record
my unwavering determination to be the Lord's."
In all the light and shade of life, the Christmas
iu his home was joyously and piously spent. A
men}] Christmas, and a hoi?/ Christmas'dre sep arated
by an impassable gulf to many Christian souls. It
was not so to him. From the hour of rapt com-
mimion with his God he would come into the fellow-
ship of his home with the dew of tenderness yet in
bis eyes, and the light of heavenly visions lingering
ouliis face. And he would enter with the lightest
heart into all the innocent sport of the home-circle.
jYet it was felt by all that the faith, and hope, and
love of the devout soul were so blended with the
hght and joy of the festal hour as to make a music
im his life. Such many-sidedness and largeness of
soul is not always understood. People who can be
solemn only, are scandalized to see a minister of the
Gospel in the full enjoyment of social and festive
3i«
Ip-. MO R LEY PU1VS//ON.
[CHAI'. XII.
life, and they say *' behold a man gluttonous, ami
a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners."
Others, of just as narrow sympathies, say "Ah I
there is the true man, and the seriousness was ouly
professional decorum." The narrow-minded saiut
and the niirrow-minded sinner both say *' he hath
a devil" — the saint, when the man of God feasts
and is merry, and the sinner when he fasts, and
weeps, and prays.
As the great Feast of Christ came round year by
year, there was in the preacher's home no more
youthful and gladsome spirit than his own. For
days beforehand he might be seen stealing into the
house with hands and pockets full of parcels that
were rapidly put under lock and key. What amus-
ing expressions were heard of his own expectatious
of the good things to come ! What sly suggestions
of the improbable or impossible presents that he
would like ! What feigned but alarming approaclios
to the secrets jealously and lovingly guarded from
his eye and thought till the right moment of dis-
closure should arrive ! And when the morning of
the holy day at last had come, he would be fouiiil
in the family circle with the serenity and strength
of his manhood all beautiful with a freshness and
gentleness like that of childhood. Then came the
usual morning kiss, and the added salutation of the
day, the story of the Advent read once more with
such light and feeling that the Old, Old Story seemed
new again, and then the cheerful meal, the antici-
pation of the Christmas mail from England, or
the discussion of the budget just arrived, the
prompt despatch of necessary business, the sacred
iH68,]
KKEPJNG CHRISTMAS.
3«9
music and song to occupy the momeuts till church
time. Then, the gladness of the family group as
they went up to the house of the Lord, tlie devout
attention, the sympathy and interest of the great
preacher when he was a hearer, the kind and grateful
uotice of the good things in the sermon, and the
silence on the weak points, if such there were.
After the generous Christmas dinner, with all its
merry talk, its memories and hopes, came the long-
expected moment for the distribution of presents.
The wants of each were anticipated and revealed
by liis gifts, and it was often found that he had
remembered some old wish, forgotten by the one
who had uttered it. His own spirit and tact were
repeated again in wife and child, and he would find
himself, in turn, the subject of a pleasant surprise.
The evening is filled with music and singing, reading
aud recitation, speech and story, till once again
the tired, happy household gather for the evening
hyum aud prayer, and the Christian home is hushed
iu the quiet of the holy night.
At the Christmas of 1870 the cypress was mingled
with the holly. And on the Christmas of 1872 there
were clouds of fear and sorrow at strife with the
sunshine of their joy. In the one case the recent
death of his wife, and in the other the failing
health of his only daughter, subdued and chastened
every mind. But in neither case was it felt seemly
to allow the day to pass without a glad recognition
ut' the good tidings of great joy. There was no dis-
lliouest attempt to ignore the dark cloud that hung
over the life, but with it all there was a genuine, a
grateful, aud joyous recognition of the light of Christ
m
m
II
320
fV. MO R LEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. XII.
by which the sable cloud of earthly sorrow was uiiuk'
to " turu forth her silver lining on the night."
In the love of friends, as well as of wif(3 iiml
children, and home, and Church, and native land,
William Morley Punshon was a man of a great hear
The words of truth and soberness concerning the
beauty and strength of his friendships may seem ex-
travagant to those who did not know him intimately ;
but those who did so know him, cannot but think
of his friendship for the late Gervase Smith, aud
Luke Wiseman, aud Bishop Janes, as they think of
the love of David and Jonathan. And some are yet
living on both sides of the Atlantic, men and women,
who mourn for him as the brother beloved, whose
like they cannot hope to see again. With mingled
fondness and reverence one aged friend is addresse'
as ** papa." Many friends of early years are call
by the old familiar names. One is to him a sister,
in frank trust and reverent affection such as they
alone can know who are filled with the spirit of the
same Heavenly Father. Children always had the
right of way into his heart. Some called him " papa''
as he did his aged friend, and others still speak
of him as dear Uncle William.
The red-letter days and the black-letter days of liis
friends were all noted, and they brought from him|
kind words and letters as naturally and as constantly
as the spring-flowers answer to the sunshine and the
rain of the early year. " I like to observe days aud
seasons," he writes to a young friend, " if thereby I
can glint a little sunshine into the hearts of my|
friends."
This wealth and warmth of heart may not be
(.]
LETTERS TO A FRIEND.
3"
^ waH inadt'
night."
jf wife aii4
lativo land,
great hear
cerniug tho ]
ay seem ex-
intimately ;
3t but think
Smitli, anil
ihey think of
some are yet
L and women,
loved, whose
Vith mingled
is addressp'
irs are call
ihim a sister,
such as they
spirit of the
;rays had the
I him " papa"
8 still speak
may
nnderstood by all — not even by all of those who have,
on other grounds, a genuine admiration for the sub-
ject of these memoirs ; and some may even think
it a weakness in his character. But as wisdom
is justified of her children, so let love be justified of
her's, and let no one presume to judge in this matter
who has never either inspired or been inspired with a
love hke his.
To E. D .
"Toronto, Noremhn 2')th, 1808.
"It does us good always to receive your letters — our Ixsst, as well as
our dearest thoughts and desires are enkindled. Pray do not ciMise your
ministry. Even when the note is of warning, regarding eitlier intemper-
ance of toil or spirituiU ease, it is a welcome word ; our hearts often thank
God for such a friend. You have made up your mind pretty soon that we
are to ' settle ' on this side. With my usual caution I hesitate to jironoimcc
so early upon the possibilities of the future. Indeed T am living from
day to day ; and for the first time in my life, I have no golden period
within the horizon after which the eye strains and tlu' hope yearns.
One thing is certain, I have no narrower sphere of usef iiess here than
I iiave ever had. I am apt to tremble sometimes at the responsibility
which my position seems to entail."
To THE Same.
" Toronto, March 3(«//, IHG'J.
" We hiive together grieved over your evident weakness and suffering)
I and hailed any signs of revival and hopefulness which we could gather
from your letter, but we know how gently the Father chides those whom
He loves, and we have rejoiced in the golden autumn which inspirit has
1 followed upon the burning of summer.
" My dear sister, it does seem to me tliat your ministry is but ix'ginning ;
jtliere seems so much for you to do, to cheer the sorrowing atid to chide the
J"'ayward, to strengthen other's faith by the lustre of your own, — that we
Iwant you to be hide in all the rapture of life, and that your ministry
pay be fulfilled. I do wish for you to-day the highest good, the deep
|fire blesmhiesg, happier than happiness far.
" I suppose Fanny has told you of our journeying. Did slie tell you
jtliat at Columbus, Ohio, I preached to the deaf and dumb ! And she cried,
land I cried as nearly as a man ought. I opened the Senate with prayer
line morning at Washington. I wonder when a Methodist Minister will
P" that in a British House of Commons ! I was greatly helped in the
21
322
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XII.
service at the dedication, but the irreverence annoyed me much. ... I
wish you knew the P — ts, I think they would be a comfort to you and you
to them. They are so simple and beautifully good, and dear Mrs. —
is a gem. ..."
To THE Same.
"Toronto, Sahhath Afternoon, June 13;ifply over the ocean l)y God's goodness, delighted the bretliren exciced-
iiii^'jy. 'i'lie Confeieiice was in fine temper. Scarcely a word to be regretted
frmn any one. An increase of 2,()HH, litnA Din. Since tlio Conference
closed 1 have been wandering with my fiiend, Mr. Smith, whose society
is as cold water to a thirsty soul. Some lethargy of spirit over me — per-
Iwps nature's recoil from a prolonged strain — perhaps lassitude arising
from prostration of body. ..."
To THE Rev. William Hikst.
" CiNCixNATr, Mavrh Gtli, 1870.
"It is refreshing and delightful to me to be assured of your changeless
love, for I never was more covetous of it, and time does not deaden the
feeling of old attachment, nor distance ciiuse the dear images of friends
to fade.
"This is the blessed Sabbath, and I have just been preaching the word
of life, and am thankful though humbled sorely. Oh, how different I am
from what I ought to be, and from what people think me to be. I do not
think I am a hypocrite ; but I get so much clearer insight into truth, and
into the harmony of Scripture and its wondrous beauty and power than
1 can possibly exhibit in my life, that I mourn and go softly, and can only
l(ing from the far depths to stand upon the crest by and by. Pray for
me, my dear old friend ; I don't often let my friends into my heart. I
wish I could sometimes lift the veil, but it is very often naked faith with me,
mid I would fain have, if the Lord will, some clothing of comfort and joy.
I liave been foolish enough to think that the joyous experience of some
is withheld from me to keep me humble, lest I should be exalted above
measme. Any how, this is one of the collateral results of it. But enough ;
I iiave shown you one or two of my soul pi'oblems, that I may have your
prayers. I need them, prize them, covet them. Pray, my dear friend,
tliat I may ' live more nearly as I pray ' and preach, that I may tread
warily in slippery places, and hold myself as a child of God without
rebuke, and that it may please God to favour mo with a fearless experience
mid an end of triumph at last."
Another movement in which Mr. Punshon took
gieat interest was that of tlie Union of the different
branches of the Methodist Church. In the readjust-
ment of relations with the parent Church in England,
it was of great advantage that one so familiar with
English Methodism and so influential in her councils
f
I
33*
W. MO R LEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XII.
should be at the head of tlie Canadian Church. It
was not till the year 1874, the year after Mr.
Punshon's departure from Canada, that the first
Union took effect, but he was actively concerned in
the previous negotiations which led to that Union.
The Union of 1874 was of the Wesleyan Methodist
Conference of Canada, the Wesleyan New Connexion
Conference, and the Wesleyan Conference of Eastern
British America. This was followed in the year 1883
by a further Union of the Methodist Church of Canada,
the Methodist Episcopal Church of Canada, the Bible
Christian Church, and the Primitive Methodist
Church. Thus was founded the present Canadian
Methodist Church, into which all the Methodists
of British America are gathered in one National
Methodist Church often Conferences, 1,628 ministers,
and a spiritual charge of some 800,000 souls, the
largest Protestant Church in the Dominion.
The mission to Japan, established by the Methodist
Church of Canada, was due mainly to the interest and
exertions of Mr. Punshon. In this enterprise he was
in advance of some Canadians. The Dominion of
Canada, stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific,
and from the St. Lawrence to the North Pole-
literally a '•'■ dominion from sea to sea, and from the
river to the ends of the earth " — this land with all its
various peoples, English, French, and Aborigines,
and immigrants from all the countries of Europe,
gave scope enough, some thought, for missionary
effort, but others gave a cordial support to the pro-
ject of Mr. Punshon to do no less but rather more for
our missions in the Dominion, and at the same time
send some messenger of salvation to the nations
1870.]
PLEA FOR MISSIONS.
m
beyond, and to the millions of Japan. The larger
enterprise prevailed, and the members of the Metho-
dist Church gave, and still give, their hearty support
to the Japan mission, and encourage a zeal that dares
to cross an ocean as well as a continent, to preach
the unsearchable riches of Christ.
We give here an example of his pleading for foreign
missions. It will clearly show his own attitude
towards that work, and it will further be of interest,
as an illustration of his earnestness in the Master's
service, at the very time when he was in the agony
of domestic bereavement, his nights of weeping being
followed by days of toil.
" It is high time that Canadian Methodism was represented in the
foreign field. As Manitoba has become a Canadian province, and British
Columbia will be one shortly, we shall soon be without any foreign
mission. It would be a reproach if we should long remain without
one. There is room in China, in Japan, in Italy, where the chains
of centuries are being broken — in Palestine, the land of that ancient
race whose children have so many claims upon us — there is room in Spain,
over whose long night the mom of light and liberty is breaking. Such an
enterprise would quicken the energy and develop the liberality of the
Church." . . .
" God takes care tit some time or other to let developing circumstances
touch every human life. Circumstances apparently dark and discouraging
may be charged with the grandest purpose, as the darkest cloud with the
most brilliant flashes of lightning. . . . The greatest cause of apprehension
to the missionary enterprise is not opposition, but indifference. This is
the chief source of peril and failure. If Laodicea be the type of the
Churches, no wonder the world sneers and perishes. If our religion be
clad in silken sheen, a patronised and fashionable thing — a sort of armorial
bearing for which men pay small duty either to God or man — is it any
wonder that men are heedless, or fall into the drowsy monotony in which
the messengers dream away their lives ? The poison-trees in the field are
hut little harmful. They are uprooted as soon as they are found out. Tlie
i)anen trees which cumber the ground and mock the delusive hope of the
husbandman are the curses of the vineyard and the field.
''But if we are idlers we shall be the only idlers in the universe.
Everything around us rebukes our lukewarm and traditional piety.
Jd4
IV. MORLKY PUNSIION.
[chap. XII
ttii:|i
f
mm
Nfttiiro Im in oiiniost. Paj^atis aro Hclf-dovotiiij^. MohanmicdaniHin l^s
roHoluto anil vuliaiit hoiih. I'opory compaHMCM sua ami land to maki' lur
proHolytos. Infidels walk warily and constantly, scattering the seedK uf
unbelief. Society is in earnest. The sons of enterprise do not slumlnr.
Warriors liail the clarion and rush eagerly to the war. Students consuim
the oil of the lamp and the oil of life together. Mammon's votiiries an
not the laggards in the streets. All thcBe forces are lashed into unwonkil
activity, and wliile we (God forgive us!), with the nohlcst work to dojuiil
with the most royal facilities for tloiiig it — with the obligation of duty, ainl
gratitude, and brotherhood, and (lod's comnuiiid — with the vows of dis-
cipleship upon us, with death at our doors and in our homos, and tlio sad
wail of the perishing multitudes sounding in our ears, ' No one hath
carod for my soul,' — are heedless, indifferent, exclusive, and most of iili, a.-
satisfied with our scjuity efforts, as if no heathen were in peril, and as if no
Christ had died."
In yet another department of Church work Mr.
Punshon rendered timely and vahiable service, viz.
in the increased endowment of Victoria College. In
the early days of irresponsible government, known in
Canada as the time of the Family Compact, the con-
trol of the Provincial University had been giveu to
the Episcopalian Church, iiather than submit to
this, the Methodists and Presbyterians founded in-
dependent universities under royal charter. These
schools were free from all sectarian tests. The
Methodist school was founded in 1832 at Cobourg,
under the name of Upper Canada Academy, aud iu
the year 1841 it obtained university power under +be
name of Victoria College. In 1849 the Provinrial
University, King's College, passed from the co'
of the Episcopalians and was changed ir^o •
secular mstitution under the name of tli uivli
of Toronto. In the meantime Victoria L d lege lad
Queen's College had won an important place ii tlif
country. Moreover, the purely secular character of
the reorganised Provincial University was only less
1870.]
VICTORIA UNI VKRSITY.
335
()l)jt'ctiouable than was the soctariaii character of the
scliool iu its early form. Tlie Methodists and Pres-
byterians continued therefore to support the colleges
they had founded, and their voluntary efforts were
supplemented by annual grants from the Legislature.
In 1808 those grants were suddenly withdrawn ; but
the result was far from what may have been expected
iiud intended — the crippling of the denominational
colleges. Additional endowments were raised by
Methodists and Presbyterians. Into this movement
Yx. Punshon threw himself with great earnestness,
( d hi a short time endowments were secured which
more than made up for the loss of the grants from
the provincial treasury.
Victoria University is also indebted to Mr. Pun-
shon for his interest iu the establishment of a theolo-
gical faculty, the first chair of which was endowed
by the late Edward Jackson, of Hamilton. His
advocacy was also given to the establishment in the
city of Montreal of the Wesleyan Theological College,
to be affiliated to Victoria University.
This review of Mr. Punshon's work in Canada may
close with the following conversation between Sir
WilHam M'Arthur of London, and Mr. John Mac-
donald of Toronto — two worthy sons of the Metho-
(hp^ Church.
Willuan. " Well, what did Mr. Puiishon do for yon m-Iiuu hu was
ire " [in Canada].
'//. Mucduuald. "Do for us? Why he pushed ua on half a century."
There may be something of poetry in these expres-
sive and gt rous words, but they honour the speaker
as well !!' le man of whom he was speaking, and
33(>
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. XII.
they fairly represent the grateful recollections of the
Methodist Church of Canada.
Whether Dr. Punshon chiefly excelled as preacher
or as lecturer, has been matter of dispute, and there
may well he difference of opinion on the point.
Moreover, he never ceased to be a preacher, calling
men to higher thinking and nobler living, and his
hearers never failed to realise that his aim was not
rhetoric but righteousness. Besides this general
tendency of his lecturing, there was a special help-
giving to Christian charity and unity by his lectures,
in that they brought together people of all the
Churches and of no Church in the common worship
of the true, the beautiful, and the good. People
whose duties or whose prejudices would not allow
them to attend the Methodist Church on Suudaj
might often be found on the Monday with one
accord in one place — bxshop and priest, presbyter
and pastor, believer and unbehever — all under the
spell of the Methodist preacher. Attracted at first
by the brilliancy of his imagination and the charm
and force of his utterance, they were kindled
sooner or later by the quickening warmth of his de-
votion to God and to the right. Men who look into
each other's faces as they break bread together at
such a spiritual feast can hardly know again the
bitterness of enmity they may have felt before.
A strangei Talking along the Strand some years
ago saw the people streaming into Exeter Hall. He
asked a young man who stood by, what was the
occasion of the gathering, and for answer was referred
to a bill which announced that the Kev. WilHam
Morley Punshon was that day to deliver a lecture ii'
iS/o.]
INFLUENCE OF LECTURES.
}>V1
Exeter Hall. The stranger's reflections found utter-
ance iu the irreverent words, '•^ It is onlij one of those
(J—d Methodist preachers.'' He acted, however, on
the suggestion of the young man, and they both went
iu to hear what the babbler had to say. The lecturer
at once arrested the stranger's attention. Very soon
the subject became interesting, and then exciting,
and at last the man who had entered the Hall
with words of contempt on his lips was seen to
vie with tne most enthusiastic in applause. From
time to time his young companion interrupted
his demonstrations by quoting the words with
which he had entered the building. On leaving
the Hall the gentleman thanked the young man for
I directions and corrections received, frankly acknow-
ledged the grossness and ignorance of his first mis-
judginent, and expressed the purpose of hearing more
of the Methodist preachers for the future. The young
man, who was the son — and at that time the way-
I \Yard sou — of a Methodist preacher, is now a promin-
lent minister in the Canadian Conference. This
extreme case represents a widespread work of con-
ciliation accomplished by Dr. Punshon. Such work
is accomplished by the good men of all parties in
touching the deeper, better nature that makes the
whole world kin, and raises men above the national,
social, and sectarian conceits that are so dear to
I intense but narrow minds.
It may interest some readers to hear how the New
I World appreciated the Old World preacher and orator.
lAt the risk, therefore, of some little repetition, the
Ifcllowing quotations are made from Canadian and
]Ainericau journals that represent the voice of the
22
[mmri
i3»
TV. MO RLE Y PUNSHON.
[CHAP. XII.
people. These criticisms are none the less valucable
because they note the limitations as well as the ex-
cellencies of the speaker.
:Hi
^-■\^x
■r ■'!
" His voice is very fine. If you observe closely, it is a little huskj', vet
for all that remarkably pleasant. The thing that strikes you first in hi*
speaking is his enunciation ; you never heard it excelled. It is beautiful:
you scarcely lose a syllable of a whole lecture. Every word is finishcil
before another is touched. Every minutest sound is as clear cut as if w
were uttered alone. And yet there is no appearance of effort to niakc it
so. Each syllable is a distinct silvery drop, and yet the whole is a strium.
smooth-flowing, unbroken.
" The next thing that strikes you is the close linking of sentence with
sentence, and thought with thought. There is no fragment. Every part
is a link. The whole is a chain, and a chain of wondrous beauty It
seems to you as if no other possible sentence could join itself with the
preceding one as perfectly as that chosen, and that no thought could
possibly be changed in position or form, or have another substituted for it
without loss. There is vast difference in orators in this respect. Some
»;ratory is beautiful, powerful, but fragmentary in its make up, concreti,
conglomerate. Mr. Punshon's, at least as far as its word and sentence
structure is concerned, is not so. An oration of his is an organism (to ,
repeat a figure already used), a chain, or best of all a stream. The first
word he utters is the beginning of a current. Every succeeding word ,
augments that current. Before you are aware he has drawn you in ; and, |
once in, there is no stop for you until the orator stops. Here is Mr. Pun-
shon's power. It is a subtle power, an unaccountable power, but it is very I
great. Many orators are profounder than Punshon ; many more edifying, [
many more startling, many more powerful in moving the deeper feelings
of one's nature, many richer in wit and humour, many nearly or quite i<
fertile even in beautiful illustrations, and flashing figures, and brilliar
passages ; but no one before the English-speaking world of to-day can j
stand up in the presence of an audience and so easily, so entirely witiiontj
the appearance of an effort, launch them upon a strain of eloquence, at I
once so quiet and yet so varied, so rapid, so absolutely enchanting. .
All is change, all is movement, but all is harmony. There is no delay. |
On, on we are borne, without time even to take breath. No sooner dn*!
the curtain fall upon one scene than it rises upon another. Or innrej
accurately, the curtain never falls at all ; for the whole oration is a unj
stantly moving panorama or a series of dissolving views — each pictjrej
melting marvellously but beautifully into its successor. . . .
" One of the most remarkable things in the orations of Mr. Pnn-I
is the great number and variety of his quotations. Nor are they imre|
iS/O.]
MEN OF THE MAYFLOWER.
339
externiils atldcd for tawdry ornament. They arc polished stones wrought
into the mixovic of the structure itself. All literature has seemingly been
hid under tribute to produce them, — ancient and modern, F^nglish and
Continental, prose and poetry. If nowliere does the breadth and richness
of the orator's culture appear more plainly than here, neither docs hia
(;cnins shine out anywhere more conspicuously. Nothing is more difficult
than to use quotations well. In nothing is it more easy or more common
in bungle. N(me but a master workman is fit to attempt mosaics, but
Dr. Punshou is a master workman, and here if nowhere else he proves it."
The lecture on the Men of the Mayflower, pre-
pared in America, illustrates very well the stylo and
the aim of Dr. Punshou. It was not his object to
discover new facts concerning the Pilgrim Fathers.
He did not seek to bring together the dry bones of
the past ; but, that being done by the historian
and antiquarian, he breathed upon the dry bones,
aud they became living men, — living with such
intensity of life as to quicken the pulse, and fire the
heart, and strengthen the will of the men of to-day.
As the skill of the modern surgeon sometimes
restores the ebbing life of a sick man by filling his
veius with the warm rich blood transfused from a
man in health and vigour, so by the magic of his
art did the lecturer and moralist transfuse the
strong pure currents of spiritual life and energy
from the Men of the Mayfloioer into weaker souls,
makiug them strong to do and dare for God and
for the right. Accordingly an American critic
writes in a New York Paper : —
"Can a man say anything new about the Puritan settlers of Nevr
England V This question we should readily answer in the negative had
we not heard the lecture of last evening. The theme is perfectly familiar,
its smallest details have been forced upon our attention from childhood,
Hill it would seem impossible for a speaker, no matter how gifted, to
interest an audience in the subject. In sjiying that Dr. Punshou did
this, we certainly award him great praise. But the lecturer did
34'^
TV. MORLKY PUNSHON.
[chap. XII.
more than interest, he excited a glow of enthusiasm, aroused ever)'
feeling of pity, admiration and regard for the Pilgrim Fathers, whose
history was sketched with a descriptive power nothing short of wonderful.
He has a voice powerful and flexible. When fairly launched upon his
subject, he forces his way ahead with resistless power, and almost compels
you to listen, even when the events narrated are older than a thrice tnld
tale. His figurative language is bold and strong always, and at tiraus
original. His forte is the portraiture of character, and conscious of his
ability in this direction he introduces descriptions of men often, and never
without effect."
In addition to these observations, a further pecu-
liarity of Dr. Punshon's eloquence may be noted, viz.
its extraordinary power to move Tnen. It was often
seen that whilst the countenances of the women
expressed a genuine, but for the most part, only a
placid admiration, the men were so intensely moved
that they could not refrain from shouting and from
tears. Was it because the speaker was himself one
of the most manly of men, and that his presentation
of the religion of the Son of man gave some new
emphasis to the masculine virtues of truthfulness
and honour, of courage and generosity, as well as
to the more feminine graces of patience, and pity,
and sympathy, and love ?
ya, and at times
CHAPTEE XIII.
1870— 1871.
CANADA. Aged i&, 47.
Death of Mrs. Punshon. — Journal. — Letters. — Travels, — Journey to the
Far West. — Salt Lake City. — Mormonism. — California. — Vancouver
Island.— Yo Semite Valley.
In the midst of the labours and successes of his
public life, and of unbroken domestic happiness,
his home was suddenly bereft and darkened by an
overwhelming calamity. On September 23rd, 1870,
Mrs. Punshon died, after an illness of only a few
hours.
Journal.
'^September 2'ith, 1870. — How shall I set down the awful experience
of a week which has changed the whole aspect of the future ? I am
bereft. ... I am bereft . . , stricken from the height of happiness and
hope to the depth of a darkness which only God can enlighten, which
only God can enable me to bear. . . . The desire of mine eyes is taken away
at a stroke. Oh, my God, my God, I believe that in faithfulness Thou
hast afflicted me . . . but, the sense of loneliness and sorrow ! I grieve,
I wonder, but I do not rebel. . . .
" The friends are all very kind, and seem to feel the dear one's removal
as an individual loss, for such was her sweetness of manner and un-
pretentious goodness, that she was loved wheiever she was known. ... I
can »;iy under the stroke, ' It is the Lord,' and there I rest, I must wait
ii>r more grace to get further. ' Thy waves and Thy Ijillows are gone
"ur me, Lord ! ' but they are 7'% waves, and I must lie and let them
sweep— waiting till Thou shalt tell me, in the fulness of a clearer vision,
Wii/ they sweep over me. ..."
342
Vt^. MORLEY PUNSIION.
[chap.
Ml.
" Sepleiiiher 26uperstition or to popery. Sooth to say, the danger in America does not
lie ill this direction at all. Phrenologically speaking, the American has
a finely developed head, but I have sometimes thought that where the
"I'gan of veneration should be there must be a perfect hollow. There
IS an iiitinitesimal reverence for siicred places, days, and things. I have
*en the hat worn almost up to the altar, the newspaper read during the
*nnon, the reporter writing his leading article during the minister's
346
IK AIORLKY PUNSIION.
[CHAl'. XIII.
N
pi'uyor. I shotild iiithor wolcotno than rcl iko iiiiytliiiig that would hiiv,
a tuiidoiicy to iiicreaHO tlic national revuiu ,ue. . . . Timu-hoiiourtd, nmrt
ovor, as the Amorican i)ractico of raising money for the Churches on tht
Sahhath has liecome, and great as may have been its success, I should like
to see it buried in ' the tomb of the Capulets,' and I should feci as
1 followed its funeral that a sworn foe to the higher interests of tin
Churches lay there interred. We spent eight hours in the Metropolitan
Church on the day of dedication ; five in the house of God, and three in
the house of merchandise, that is five hours were spent in worship, hmi]
three in raising money. Bishop Sim[)son's was an enrapturing sernioii:
Dr. Eddy's was a masterly argument for the truth, pressed home liy a
searching application at the close ; but in ten minutes the effect of
both was marred to me by the earnest, humorous, siircastic, pertinacioas
appeals for money. Still this is but a spot upon the sun ; and through thi'
boundless continent the sun of Methodism does shine with a steaily
radiance which gives every prospect that it will brighten and broaden into
noon."
To TiiK Rev. Tiios. M'Cui.la(mi.
" Toronto, Ma/r/t 30tnuigo doctrines upon it. I have learnt to prize more higldy than ever
the lilessings of our holy Christianity, having had personal observation of
lioth refined and rude paganisms as they arc. I have a firmer faith than
I'vor in tlie old, old gospel, and in the missionary work of the Churches,
Wcausu that in the midst of paganism in its most besotted and unworthy
fmms, I have seen those whom it has rescued and saved."
To ins DAU(illTEK.
"Omaha, Nki!., .1/a/r/t 23/y/, 1871.
"My own dear cbild, — Many thanks for the thoughtfulncss which
linuiiirtuil the sending of the telegram. It reached us after we were seated
ill ihu train at Chicago, and rejoiced us greatly. We liad a [jleasant
jimriiey all day yestewlay ; very cold while we were crossing the Missis-
sippi river ; saw clouds of blackbirds, some prairie hens, a hawk, snow-
I'irils, and a prairie on fire. . . . We have just crossed the Missouri river
:iiuiiiio;a tliis wonderful place, witli 14,UU0 iidiabitants where, a while ago
"t
348
W. MORLRY PUNSHON.
[chap. XIII.
there woh hardly anythinj^ hut desert. The Missouri is a poor, miseralile,
yollow-looking stream hero. . . . The sight of the prairies of lowii is
something wonderful, but becomes tiresome after u while. It is lijic
being at sea. . . ."
To THK Same.
"Tub Gkeat Praikie, Antelope Station, Friday Morniwj.
" Wo have so far had a very pleasant journey, my dearest child, and m
an elevation of 4,()00 feet, ?^A miles from Chicago, I will write a line in
hope that the train which we expect to meet at Cheyenne may speed it
sooner to you than if I waited until we had a resting-place more stable.
... I suppose the journey would by some people be deemed monoton-
ous, but to us it comes with the freshness of a host of new sensiitinns,
The Illinois and Iowa prairies are nothing to these Nebraska ones. I
never realised on those the idea of an ocean, but it is impossible hero \>\
avoid the thought that you are at sea. We have travelled for two hun-
dred miles, I may say with truth, without the sight of a tree ! — and the
sensation of viustness and sublimity presented by the boundlessness of
the open plain cannot be surpassed of its kind. . . . We have seen all
the things proper to be seen — prairie dogs, funny little fellows, prairie hens,
hawks, herds of antelopes, one of them so close to the train that it could
have been shot. . . ."
To the Same.
"Bryan Station, Rocky Mountains, Saturday, March 25th, 1871
'' Another day has whirled us farther and still farther away. . . . The
skies are cloudless and the air marvellously pure. We have the usual
motley description of fellow passengers — a man and wife with four
children, the youngest a squalling baby ; five or six oilmen, full of cards,
champagne, and slang ; an old teamster, who travelled tliis road liv
wagon, now taking his young wife across ; five nuns from Montreal, »«
route to found a sisterhood in California ; and three young Japanese with
their guide, philosopher and friend. On the whole wc get on very well.
and I am not too much tired, though we have now come 870 miles from
Omaha. I have occupied one seat by day and berth by night during
all that time. Shortly after mailing my letter of yesterday, wc climbed
up to the highest point on the road, Sherman, 8,235 feet above the level
of the sea. The country is very uninteresting and mostly desert. As I
write, nothing but the dreariest prospect is seen from the windows, tin
Wahsatch range of mountains capped with snow being the only redeeming j
feature. ... It seems a wonderful thing to have been all this time travel-
ling, and to be still a thousand miles from the end of the continent,
and from the end of our journey, but so it is. . . .
iS/l.l
SALT LAKK CITY.
To TIIK Samk.
349
Y\day Morning.
vreat child, and ai
ill write a line in
nne may upced it
place more stable,
deemed monoton-
if new seusiitinns,
'febraaka ones, I
impossible hero t"
ailed for two hun-
I a tree !— and the
boundlessness of
We have seen all
3II0WS, prairie henii,
train that it could
"Salt Lake C it\, Suuflai/ A/ternoDii, M(iirh2tit/i, 1H71.
"It is a brilliant day, the Hky w ch)udleHH and blue like that of Italy.
We iiave twice attended service in the Mormon tabernacle, luid this after-
niMiu have heard Orson Pratt, their best man. The large tabernaole is not
ill use. It will hold 13,000 people. Tlie small one contains iJ,0(M> cnnifort-
alily and was quite filled. They were singing au we went in this morniug,
'(iod moves in a mysterious way,' to the tune of ' Coronation.' "
FUOM NoTE.S OK TkAVEL.
"The tabernacle was quite full. The men and women sit apart. It was
an interesting study to watch the couutenances of the congregation. There
were some, indeed, the expression of whose faces was decidedly benevolent,
though an irrewlution about the mouth l)etrayed the latent weaknc8.s of
will, which would make them passive instruments under the leadership of
arniftybrain, if the owner of it claimed to be inspired. The women wore
decidedly homely, and for the most part stolid, as if they carried a dead
past al)ont with them, l>ut had become so accustomed to it as not to know
that it (/'ax dead. Presently a stout, farmer-looking man, verging upon
sixty, rose, divested himself leisurely of his overcoat, and began to preach.
No text formed the basis of his discourse, but it was a lengthened exposition
of the doctrines of the Church of Latter Day Saints established by Joe
Smith. ... At the expiration of an hour we wended our way again to the
tiibernaolc. Bread and water were on the liishop's table, which were
sevenilly blessed and handed round without discrimination to all present
who chose to partake. This is the Mormon sacniment. Then a well-knit
man, with an intellectual face, long grey beard, scmorous voice, and not
unj,T!iceful action, began to speak. This wiis Omoii Pratt, the great gun
uf the Mormons as a public speaker. He took his text from Isaiah xl. 1 — 3.
Comfort ye, comfort ye My people, saith your God,' etc. He began by a
description of the apostasy of the Jews, and argued that the curse would
rest upon them until the times of the Gentiles were futilled. He proceeded
to argue that these times were in course of fulfilment, that the angel had
made tlic revelation of the gospel to Joseph Smitli, and that the labours
I of Mormon missionivries had given almost every man his chance, they
preaching ' for a witness ' unto all people ; and that .shortly, he did not
exactly know the time, but ' you young men will see it,' addressing those
I on his right, when the ' ensign ' of which the prophet spoke would be set
upon a hill ' in the neighbourhood of Salt Lake City, and they would
ve to gather thither the ' dispersed of Judah ' while the poor Gentiles
I TCre left to uncovenanted mercy. He then launched out into a rhapsody
on the Pacific Railway as a fulfilment of Isaiah's prophecy, ' Prepare ye
the way for the people.' Had they not done that when they came through
350
JV. MO RLE Y PUNSHON.
[chap. XIII,
the (IcHoi't with ox-toanis and mule carts and wheelbarrows V ' Cast up tlii'
highway." What was that but the great Pacifie Railroad ? Tluv \\\\\
gjvthcred out the stones in the rugged mountain, and prepared two hundred
miles of ' way for the ransomed to pass ovei'.' ' Go through the gatos.
I wonder, he said, that Isaiali understood this matter so well. Uu couhl
not if he had not l)een inspired. What are these gates but * tunneln ' ?
The people were to come ' with speed.' Did not that speak of the expnss
train, in contrast with the ox-cart of the former time ? Tlien the Messinh
would come in power, and His glory should he revealed on these niountiun>
of the West, and 'all flesh sliould see it together.' The eldei's, who, In
the way, looked as unlike seventy celestials as could well be conmvid,
responded as.sentingly at intervals, and jirobalily felt the tin-ill of a now
sensation as they heard of prophecy fulfilling itself in their nngaiidy foinis.
They and the men generally appeared to regard his exposition as niaateriv.
The w
10 oldcrs, wh(i,liy
oil bo cDiu'oiviil,
1! thrill of 11 new
ir uiigiiiiily f Dims.
siti.
beitcs, the cliitf
largo niindier "i
L-asi Orson Pnitu
Iho joy of life W
'apart' for soiiu'
)f hor homo ; ami
|vd mo in EiM^'hnd.
irc. The niini^^ter
the /.•)»/.'» out of
led hi spite of the 1
Ircises, and I'ltivni
tith this marvelliHi* I
light out at ku!.'tli j
■0. It is a crafty
.08 in its votavie*]
in the ci'usadii*
El Dorado State, I
In- party wo «ent|
Itain, and twenty-
nine on the Sierras. The summits of the Sierras aro not barren like the
Riiil'y Moiintiiins, but covorod with rioh forests of piiio. Shortly before
rciuhiug the highest point on tho line we entered wliat seemed the very
nati'iai't'ii of snow-sheds. Wt; waited witli oonsidtsiiilile patience for the
iiui (if it, that wo might be lewardod l)y a glimpse of Sierra scenery, wiion
tiie conductor liapi>ened to pass through the car. ' How long is this snow-
shed?' was the question. Fancy our dismay when the answer came,
' Thirl ii-Hi'irn iuUph ! ' We subsided, and then appeared a very general
impression that the scenery which wo could not see was not so very grand
after all. Those snow-sheds, which are necessary for the safety of tho
jiuinioy, detract very much fi-om tho pleasure of it. From Elko to tho
Kmigrant Gap, a distance of some .')80 miles, much of tho scenery is hidden
hy these envious but useful appendages. They are necessary to keep tho
track dear from avalanches in tho winter and spring, and have boon
irected at a cost of $10,000 per mile. . . .
•'At Blue Canyon we look down into a deceitful depth which reminded
me of the Cardinelli on tho Splugen, and then there is a momentary gasp
of fear and rapture as we realise tlif sensation of tho journey, the round-
ing of Cape Horn, where from tho brink of a precii)ico, out of which tho
road has boon cut, we look down within a yard of the edge upon a chasm
of ■J,,'iUO foot, which dwarfs tho American river at the foot of it into
a small thread of silver. In rounding Capo Horn we tnivol throe miles
to secure half a mile's advance. . . . Whirling ahtiig in our zig-zag
irack, we follow bright , '•lams of water used in 'placer' mining, see
hardy miners with their ' pipes ' playing and tearing down the moun-
laiiis in search of the shining dust. Acres upon acres have boiMi subjec, \
to this hydraulic cruelty, and the mountain streams are all muddy and
troubled by the dirt thus i jected into their channels. Now come the
foot hills of the mountains, bright with their manznnita garment — a shrub
very like the arbutus at Killarnoy — with shining leaves and cliLstors of pink
and white blossoms, and then we sweep down into the Sacramento valley,
to find the country green as an emerald, the almond and the peach in
iikssoin, tho spring Howors dotting tlu' meadows, aid the e.irth smiling
with tho promijo of plenty, having passed in two short hours from tlie
region of snow and the barrenness of winttsr to the bloom and the beauty
of spring. . . . Tho train sped along, through meadows besprent with
tlower.s, lupin and buttercup and larkspur, wliich made my ]inl.--o boat
quickly with memories of honn The flora of California is far inoro like
that of dear old England than of the States. . . . By-and-by wo ran over
ihi' long bridge at Oaklands, the ari.stooratic snburl), wore mot liy Dr. Cox,
the Rev. 0. (libson, and Mniie lay friends, and crossed tho niagm'(i''ont bay,
"here all tho navies of the world could aiiolior. There is San Erancisco,
the queen city of the Pacific, and yonder is the Gahkn O'afr, with the
riirple glory of the sun.set bringing its glory into relief."
352
W. MORLEY PUNSnON.
CHAl'. XIII.
To Ills Daughtkk.
" San Francisco, April Ix/, 1871.
"... Ill tho evening of Thursday wo wont up the ]iay by Httiiim tn
Vallojo and thence by rail to Calistoga, where our party occupied a cottage
that liad three beds in it. It is the Saratoga of the Pacific Coast, and the
liotel lias seventeen cottages built round it for families in the sunnner.
Yesterday morning at six wo started to see the (leyscrs. ... It is woiidor-
f ul to see once, but sv.s nmch like one's ideas of the place of torment as you
could wish to see. But the drive ! Oh the drive ! I cannot descritx! it.
/ never had such an excitement in my life. The first eighteen miles we were
driven in an open wagon by Mr. Connelly, a very good driver, who
handled his four horses well. The scenery Ennlhh and very beautiful,
winding through gorges and canyons, crossing streams, etc., and still getting
higher. At Foss Station we were delivered over into the hands of F()s,s, the
champion driver of the world, who was to take us the remaining twelve
miles and back in a coach and t- *• |)iww«h
dangerous ground, the hands almost involuirfary i-lutchcd t\w ^row. Fn
turned round : ' When I was a lad, I once tried to hold a alup down, aiid^
kllAl'. Xlll,
iS;o.]
CALIFORNIA.
353
fiund I couldn't,' and with provoking calmnesa left us to make the appli-
(•I'liini. Oil, that ride, that ride ! Up and on, up and down and on, now
i pusing on a plateau to trace the Russian river through its windings for
some thirty-five miles, now climbing towards the pile on the summit of
the Geyser mountain ; pulling, stretching, trotting, galloping, with waving
1 manes and tails erect with excitement, now with a whoop, now with a
lloo; Foss now flinging the reins on one side in a heap to turn the
IWers round a sharp corner, now jumping, the whole team lifted almost
lirom the ground as if grasped in a strong hand, speaking cheerily to the
lisffging or reproachfully to the eccentric or to the lazy ; surely never was
Lch a drive before ; and when we crossed the Hog's Back at full giiUop
Ik two miles and a half, the horses flying like the coursers of the sun,
Ir.ih two thousand feet sheer down from a road just wide enough
Ifor the wagon and no more ; and finally, when the Geyser Canyon ap-
Iwired in sight but eighteen hundred feet below us, and the ro.ad so
linghtfully steep as to suggest nothing but the side of a house, and we
Ijlanged down the declivity and rounded the fierce curves on a keen trot,
Id with an apparent recklessness of life and limb, the interest culminated
Ijto a panful excitement, and we stepped from the carriage at the foot of
liiiu!; i:';j Fitz James after the combat,
' Unwounded at the dreadful close,
But breathless all.'
I suppose Foss is ignorant of the science of mathematics, but his driving
ithe most accurate and skilful calculation, both of force and distance,
lit I ever saw. We were almost too exhausted with excitement to walk
Mgh the canyon, which we did, however, to be en regie, under the
dtrehip of a very stupid guide. , . . Descending from the hotel,
tout seventy-five feet, you first meet a spring of iron, sulphur and soda,
nilKrature 73° Fahrenheit. The first spring going up the Geyser Gulch
^the tepid alum and iron incrusted, temperature 97°, and with a very
avj- iridescent incrustation of iron which forms in a single night.
ftenty feet from this we pass the medicated Geyser bath, temperature
|f. and containing ammonia, Epsom salts, ma^nK^sin, sulphur, iron, etc.
Ifvoupass up the canyon, the ground on wliich you tread yields to the
|»i*t«;ps, as if there were cavernous regions not far away, and you Ixigin
mming almost unconsciously '■ Fadl'iH deseenauH Arr^'ni.' By-and-by
to spots which are yet more suggestively inftsrnal. The Witcli's
seven feet in diameter and of unknown depth, whose contents
R»ri up two or three feet, are semi-liquid and blacker than ink ; the
■ n ; the Devil's Inkstand, with whose contents, if you so please, you
iiigil)le letter on the spot ; the Devil's Kitchen, where the steam
M<' seethes, and hisses and roars,' as if the liell-broth were con-
wwing ; the Mountain of Fire, with its hundred orifices ; and the
23
354
W. MO RLE Y PUNS HON.
[chap, xin,
groat Stciimlx>at Ocyser, sounding like a high-pressure boiler l)l(iwinf,' nff
steam so heated as to ha invisible until it is si\ feet from the niouth-nnt
to mention minor cells in the unceasing laboratory where alum, magnesia,
tartaric acid, Epsom salts, ammonia, nitre and sulphur, arc !illbeini'j
worked, as by unseen chemists, into marvellous combinations. As vnu
look upon it all, and upon the blasted canyon, bare of heath and flower,
in which not a solitary grass-blade gi'ows, thougli to the very verge thi
greensward comes lovingly, and over it bend the pitiful trees, like merry
over an obdurate sinner, you need no livelier representation of hell. It j
is a strange si},'ht, and it leaves a weird memory. The return ride was fiin
and enjoyable, as we had acquired confidence in Clarke Foss and in li>
team, and we reached Calistoga about 8 p.m., sore, stiff and we;::}-, but |
replete with memories of this day's wonderful ride."
On the Ist of April Mr. Punshon returned to San I
Francisco. The next day, Sunday, he preached at
the dedication of a new church, and visited the
schools and mission work a.mongst the Chinese, and
on the Monday he visited a heathen temple. It isj
thus described.
Fkom Notes of Travel.
" April Srd. — . . . We went first into a Chinese joss-house- not m.
imitation one, but a veritable heathen temple — where these idolaters are ial
the habit of worshipping. To the right as we entered, was an idol, wlin it|
said to be a mere door-keeper god. A large and highly elaborate junlf
hangs in the doorway. On the left are a large ball and gong, and beliinil
them a furnace. As you pass behind the screen into the principal cliiimberJ
on the riijht is an idol with a fierce complexion. This is the god of warJ
In the centre is the great sombre Father of Heaven, with an jitiendanlj
deity on either hand. On the left is the Mother of Heaven, that is, iis i
Chinaman astutely 8
itiff and wei;:T. but]
turned to San
le preached at
id visited the
e Cliiuese, aiid|
temple. It
1871-]
VANCOUVJilR ISLAND.
3.S5
joas-houso- not ani
1 these idolaters art inl
1, was an idol, who ijj
ighly elaborate junlf
pd gong, and behinij
lie principal cliiimberJ
|s is the god of wwl
with an attendanf
[eaven, that is, us I
ary.' In a chamb
[he goddess to wliom
liurning sandal-woo
arable little chips 1
iThese had gone oiil|
ty, as indeed kfi'i
of all was a tall
I, cakes, etc. Tlied
of what seemn'
llmonitory specwn
\ heathen temple in full bla>()ut hal
past li !i.m. we arrived in Fort Yale, the head of navigation
the Fraser. . . . Yale is grandly situr.ted, just like several Swiss ^ ilaif
iSji-]
VANCOUVER ISLAND.
357
labouring upwai
1, for we were undea
8 a.m. reached Fori
lers, and a town i
portion of an insigj
non. Came sbortlf
where the downj
towed u}) with
earn on at the siU
,rk on the bunks
)w 5,00(1 feet highl
jither side in ™^
el. At aiK)ut
d of navigation
several Swiss villa'
which I could name, for 'ixaniplc Meynngen, and our walk was l)y a
fnaming river beneath overshadowing hills, and with the noise of
aniiinches crashing every now and tlien upon our ears. About half
a mile from Yale we came to an Indian grave-yard. One enclosed grave
W four wild geese sculptured rudely, one at each corner. The neat
burial-house liad in front a solid board twelve feet long by two feet wide,
in which were carved figures of men at e;i,ch end and in the centre, with
four white bears on each side of the centre figure, the ground being
painted red, the l)ears white, and the figures black and blue. A third
linuse had an enormous figure of a shark and two hideous Indian faces.
. , . The bell went round to summon the peojile to worship in the
dilapidated and unused Methodist church of Yale, and I preached in
j these far wilds to about forty people, one of wliom, now living next
(j(v)r to the church, used to hear me preach in Whitehaven, twenty-five
jtarsago— so strangely do lives touch at the opposite poles of contact.
. The population of Yale, formerly 5,000, is now like that of Hope,
I about 251 >, amongst whom they bitterly complain are only nine ladies who
are available to figure in a ball.
■'.1 /»•/'/ 21.S/.— The anniversjiry of my arrival on American soil ! Wliat
I lerce heats and bitter winds have beaten on my life since then. A roseate
[dream, with a rude awakening to a wintry morning.
Had a pleasant voyage down the Fraser. . . . Arrived in New
I Wtstminster about 3 p.m., and after a hurried lunch at Mr. Cunning-
kam's. started off for Burnard's Inlet, on a stage. Our road to Burnards
I Met led us througli a forest which at last realised my ideal concep-
Itioiiof 1) forest. . . . There was no glimpse of the horizon for the whole
twelve miles, the brushwood lying so rankly that you could not walk
lihrough it without an axe to clear your way before you, and magnificent
Lirthsof fir and cedar lay along the ground, where some solitary feller had
I'come up against the trees,' or towered to the heavens, where the aisles
lof the woodland had not been touched by the hand of man. 1 u jre was
lliardly a tree in the forest less than 150 feet high, and some fully
|3i>i in height, and from forty to fifty feet round. Some of the trees
|we saw will make forty cords of split wood, besides waste. . . .
On our return journey the driver stopped on a lonely and frail
Iblge, in the densest part of the fcn-est, and demanded his fare. It
an ugly look, as the shadows of night were gathering rapidly, but we
sisted stoutlj', and he drove on sullenly to Mew Westminster. We got
Ixfore the ntter darkness, and did not therefore hear the Iwy of the
%'arsthat .ti«>uud in the forest, and make night hideous as they prowl
iseau-h of pr».y.
' Sml I'lpul. — . , . Left at h^ a.m. per steamer Entfrprisc for
irtma. By-and-by Mount Baker broke forth in all his grandeur,
f indignant at liemg written down a myth, and was anxious to
mmmmmm^''T^^m^
358
PT. MORLKY PUNS HON.
[CHAl-. XII
vindicate liiw reputation. Tliero ho towered majeHtio and solitary, Id/jm
feet high. The Gulf of Georgia wi. ' rather rough as we crossed it, Inu
the sky was exquisitely clear, and I question whether anywhere else theri'
could be se' a a mountain panorama of so great majesty unless among the
Swiss Alps."
The 23rd and 24th were spent in Victoria. On
the 25th Mr. Punshon sailed for Olympia, and thence
took stage to Monte Cello. On the 28th he sailed
for Portland. In his notes the bad roads and charm-
ing scenery are mentioned, and so too is the rapid
progress of the country from the wilderness to civilisa-
tion, one typical instance being given in " Kalaiii,
a city six weeks old, and containing already good
three-storey buildings and a population of five
hundred." On the 29th he sailed for San Francisco,
where he arrived on the 3rd of May. On the 6tli
his party set their faces homeward again, taking on
the way the excursion to the big trees and the Yo
Semite Valley.
From Notk-isook.
" May lOtli. — Rose at half-past four, and after breakfasting hj
are. The demnn-]
riends accomp:i»'«^j
Lmyduty'MVh"!
If lio had been looking,' for indications of tlio way
of dut}' iu the sigHR of roHpect given to him, and in
liigli appreciation of liis hibourH, lie might well be
in the perplexity expressed in this letter. It seemed
as if no people could respect and love him more than
(lid the people of Canada ; but any one who witnessed
liis rece})tion in England in the summer of 1871 must
admit, as does the writer of these lines, himself a
Caimdian, that Mr. Punshon was even more loved
and lionoured in England than he was iu Canada.
It could only be because the English people knew
liiiii longer and better. Moreover, the old friends are,
like the old wine, ever the best.
The following account of his reception in England,
and of his address in the Eree Trade Hall, is taken
from the Christian Guardian, the official organ of
the Methodist Church in Canada.
"Tlie reception of Mr. Punshon in England, after his ojourn of over
ihree years in Canada, has l)een of the most enthusiastic kind. His namo
sciirceiy appeared in public till he burst upon the Conference with a
suddenness and power that startled them out of all stjiid propriety. Be-
fi)rc lie was introduced to the Conference, wlieii he and the Rev. Gervaso
Smith came upon the platform, the vast audience rose and cheered, and
waved hats and liandkerchiefs in token of welamie. This was repeated
when he arose to address the Conference. In addressing liim, the Presi-
[ dent siiid, —
'"Every lieart in this assembly goes with that cheer. We have watched
your career in the grejit and glorious country to which your path has been
directed. Wc rejoice and give thanks to God for the honour which Ho
han put up')!! you, and the work He has ei!abled you to do. We see you
I amongst us again with thai!kfulncss to Him, and with feelings of un-
I'pcakahle affection towai'ds yourself. We have never lost sight of you.
Cheers.) Never forgotten you, (Reriewed clieers.) You have bee!i ono
[of ourselves. Your name has l)ee!! called ov«,'r every year as a member of
this Con fei'oi!ce since you left us. Your name has been civlled over to-
liiy. 1 rejoice that it will appear in the I'ecord of tliis year as present in
iir delil)erationH, and on your own account I greet you in the name of the
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
1.0
I.I
1.25
<5' liM 12.2
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362
tr. MORLKY PUNSIION.
[chap. Xlll.
Ijoril, iiiid on account of that nolilc Church, at tho lioad of whicli it lias
ploaHod Him to placo you during tlie last three ycara' (Cheei-s.) "
Mr. Punshon's address which followed, was distiu-
giiished as usual by its comprehensive range of topics
and skilful arra7jgements, and by the beauty aud
force of thought and language which it displayed.
It is no disparagement to our former representatives
to say that never before were the character, the
claims, and the works of Canadian Methodism so
fully and forcibly brought before the Enghsh Cou-
ference. Every Canadian will thank Mr. Punshon
for his manly and truthful representation of the posi-
tion of affairs in Canada. His statement as to the
tendency of the English Colonial policy was clear
and unquestionable. The occasion was one of rare
interest, such as a man seldom enjoys twice in a
lifetime. And he was equal to the occasion. The
F^'ee Trade Hall in which the open session of Con-
ference was held, is one of the finest halls in England.
The Becorder estimates the audience at six thousand
Of these ove: eight hundred were ministers. But
they were all as one man stirred to laughter, sorrow,
wonder, or high and heroic purpose at the will of the
orator, who spoke on behalf of Canadian Methodism
with such eloquence and power. Probably no pre-
vious oratorical effort of his life was more effective
and impressive. The Watchman says : —
" The interest or rather the enthuHiasm of the meeting culminattd
when Mr. Punshon was introduced as the President and representative of
the Canadian Conference. . . . Mr. Punshon is somewhat sunburnt witli
his extensive travels, but is apparently in perfect health. As he rose liis |
looks gave evidence of deep emotion, but that emotion he repressed, ap
parently not without effort. Never have we heard him speak with jjrcatfr|
beauty or power. lie told of the vast extent of British North Amerua
187 1.] SPEECH jN the FREE TRADE HALL.
363
of which it has
;Choer8.) "
I, was distiu-
age of topics
beauty and
it displayed,
present atives
laracter, tlie
Methodism so
English Cou-
Mr. Punshon
>n of the posi-
lent as to the
icy was clear
IS one of rare
)ys twice in a
iccasion. The
lession of Con-
ills in England,
[t six thousand,
inisters. But
ighter, sorrov?,
the will of the
,an Methodism
)bably no pre-
more effective
meeting culminated j
knd representiitivt' -'f
[what sunburnt witli
Llth. Asheroselus
lion he repressed, ap^
^mspeak with greater
litish North AnuTi.a
its varied populations, their moral and i-uligious necessities, the reniark-
;il)le progress made by Methodism during the last seventeen years, and the
influential position it now liolds. He descrilied the work of Methodism
among the colonists of English descent, the Germans, the French, the
Indians, and the Chinese. He dwelt at large upon the educational efforts
of our Church, its literature, and the character of its rising ministry. He
gave to his hearers l)eautiful glimpses of the regions he had visited in the
far West, and after alluding for a moment with exquisite tenderness to
the sorrows he h »d been called to bear, he spoke of former Manchester
Conferences, recalling the time when he stood as a candidate for ordina-
tion in the 01dh.am Street Chapel, and the time when he received the
honour of election into the Hundred, the youngest memlxjr upon whom
that honour had ever been bestowed. He then uttered w^ords of en-
couragement a.s to the present state of the Church, exhorting his brethren
to Ite full of heart and hope."
The Becorder says : —
" It would be difficult to analyse and define delicately the feeling of the
vast mass of people who rose to greet him with shouts, and waving of
hats, handkerchiefs, umbrellas, and all moveable things. But I shall not
be far wrong when I surmise that the predominant emotion was deep
personal affection, sympathy with his great services past, and joy at his
return. English Methodists have kept his place vacant in their hearts."
. . . The Rf'cordrr also thinks " that Mr. Punshon's address made it evident
tliat ho was all the richer for Canada, that the administrator was as con-
sjncuous as the rhetorican. The accumulations of experience hare added
value to the prolific gifts." It adds : " It is currently rumoured that Mr.
Punshon will return to Canada in the autumn, and it is as generally anti-
cipated that he will come to this country again in about two years to
abide. Should this be so, he will bring with him treasures of experience
of which Metluxiism will have need."
This reception at Maucliester was repeated in
kiud, if not in degree, wherever he appeared
in England. There was no mistaking it — it was
the call of the Church to her son, and to him it
was the call of God. A term was now set to his
stay in Canada, and the year 1873 was fixed as the
time of his return to tho work of the mother Church
ill Kngland.
p^fj^^^riiiff
364
IV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XIV
Early in September, 1871, he returned to Canada,
his niece, a daughter of the late Thomas Panton,
of Sunderland, returning with him to keep up the
light and warmth of his home during the remainder
of his stay in America.
To E. D — .
" S. S. ' Nestorian,' at Sea, September mh, 1871.
" I believe that humbled and unworthy as I feel myself, I am Homt.-
what mellowed, purged of self, made meeter for the office I fill, and for
the fellowship I long for . . . God's mercy lias been very marked during
my recent visit, and I should be ungrateful indeed to forget it. Tlie ki' ]•
ness of my friends, the heartiness of my reception everywhere, the many
instances in which God threw into my way in unexpected places tliose to
whom I liad been useful ; the honest love which lighted up the cyeH of
many when they saw me ; the improved health of some who are more to me
than I can tell ; the tender, reverencing gentleness, with which even those
who knew her lightly speak of my lost angel ; all these things, gi^ts of
God, springs of healing in the very regions where I feared there were
the Marah fountains only . . . demand my li^ in gratitude and my es-
pressions of praise."
To Mks. T. F. C. M .
" Toronto, Septfmher 2Sth, 1871.
" We reached Quebec on Monday morning at 3 a.m., and Toronto
on Wednesday morning, at 1 a.m. Eight or nine friends met us at the
station. Early as it was we liad a splendid run across the Atlantic, but
were stopped by fog off tlie Straits of Belle Isle, and in the Gulf of St.
Lawrence. I think we are all the better for our voyage. The enforced
rest of it did me no harm. Our house looks very nice. My niece ii^
charmed with it, and I hope we may have, by God's blessing, a good and
happy year. . . . My memories of my English ' dream ' (I am hardly call
it a visit) are very fragrant, and among the choicest, those which cluster
round Park House and its dear circle. Many, many thanks for all your
kindnesses. They are deeply graven on a heart which does not soon or
willingly forget."
Journal.
" October lat, 1871. — . . . The meeting with old friends was chequered
by many conflicting feelings, but, on the whole a source of enjoyment. I
was enabled to speak boldly before the Conference, and privileged to
declare the counsel of God to the largest mulHtude who have ever
[chap. XIV
to Canada,
as Panton,
:eep up the
9 remainder
,ber mh, 1871.
self, I am somt;-
,ce I fill, anil for
y marked during
ret it. The ki- ]•
rwhere, the many
jd places tliose to
ad up the eyes of
ho are more to me
which even those
se things, gi^is of
feared there were
iitude and my ex
.871.]
RETURN TO CANADA.
365
gathered to hear me. Without any influence of mine the vote for my
return to England in two years was carried unanimously, amid the
varmest expressions of affection and esteem. But what am I that I
should Imj thus regarded ? ' When a man's ways please the Lord, lie
makt'th even his enemies to be at peace with him.' "
For twenty months longer Mr. Punshon continued
his labours in C -nada. The story of this period will
be told almost wholly in extracts from his letters
and journals, so that it may be called a chapter
of autobiography. The point of view will change
frequently, and sometimes, perhaps, abruptly, but
the reader can scarcely fail to discern the connection
of the story.
In some of these selections we read of suffering
as well as labouring for the sake of Christ and of
His Gospel. And when we remember that the
preacher might at any time have turned aside to
other pursuits that offered comparative ease and
opulence, but was kept at his post by a sense of
loyalty to God and to the Church, our admira-
tion deepens into the reverence we pay to those
who bear in their bodies " the marks of the Lord
Jesus."
To E. D .
"St. Catharine's, Ontario, October 8th, 1871.
''. . . Another source of disquietude ia the physical agon;/, I can
call it by no softer name, which I have so often to endure in the pulpit.
It seems so strangis, when all my thoughts should be concentrated on my
subject, to have it so often engrossed upon my miserable self ; and that
those preliminary services which should be preludes of praise to the
great anthem that is to follow, should be so often frittered away in
nervous apprehensions of fainting or dying there and then. Oh, it is
grievous, and I feel often as I did this morning, as I did in Liverpool
Road, as I did in Oxford Place, that I cannot bear it, and must regard
it as a token that I am unfitted physically for the work of the ministry.
Then again, I remember my deliverances — how I have cried mightily unto
366
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XIV.
\m\
0(k1, and Ho biiH helped me, and I have preached to the congregation with
a mcaHure of power, wht-u to mysmlf it has Hconicd the nioKt utter anil
contemptible failure, and I have wondered whctlior it is not my thorn in
the flesh, the meHsengor of Satjin to buffet me."
To THK Rev. Gervase Smith.
" Toronto, OcMwr 19//(. 1871.
"... The Recorder bringH news of the death of Felvus and Viiscy.
P(Mtr Vasey !— and yet what a triumphant end. Oh, to be so honouml
and cn)wned at hiHt ! . . .
" What a fearful thing Ih thia Chicago fire. I know the whole Imriit
ground well. The Farwell Hall, in which I preached to four thousinci
people in April, and in which I delivered the in iugural lecture threo yea^
ago, consumed again. The Crosby Opera House, where I first lecturd :
the Clark Street Church, where the last general Conference was held :
every bank, theatre, insurance office, and four square miles of dwelling's.
all gone. . . . One of our friends just come from Chicago, reports tlif
re-commencement of business by a man — a thriving tradesman last week-
ruined by the fire. He has stuck up a rude signboard on which he has
painted his name and business, and these words, '■All lost but wift.
children, ami energy.' "
JOUUNAL.
^^ Noi'cmber iOth, 1871. — . . . Excellent missionary services in Montreal
this week. Spirit and feeling very good. Dr. Tiffany spoke so well that
it was hard to follow him, and I felt roused to prevent the meetinj,' from
flagging. Troubled afterwards about it, and had an earnest questioning
of motives as to whether, after all, I had not made it a sort of intellectual
gladiatorship. I trust the Lord will ever save mc from this. Sir A.
G sent a beautiful letter with an offer of financial help ; but the letur
was worth more than the money, for it seemed to indicate a work of
grace in the heart. Tokens of good here and there in the Church. Wliy
art thou disquieted, O my soul ? God hath not forsaken thee."
To THE Rev. W.m. Hiust.
"Toronto, December 1th, 1871.
"On Thursday last I preached at Drummondville within hearing
of the thunder of Niagara. Friday I travelled 300 miles to Albany.
and lectured in the evening. Sunday I preached in the large hall, where
I had lectured, to about two thousand people. Monday, I travelled
150 miles in snow and sleet, and lectured in Syracuse. Tuesday.
travelled 200 miles, and lectured in Hamilton. Yesterday, travelled I'l"
miles, and lectured in London. To-day have come 120 miles home."
[chap. XIV.
1871.1
CANADIAN WINTER.
.^67
tngregiition with
nioHt utter iiini
not my thorn in
^\wT 19/A. 1871.
ilvus aud Vascy.
> be so lioiioim*!
the whole l)umt
to four tbousiind
Bcturo thre(i yea^
! I first lectured :
erence was heW :
ailes of dwellings,
licago, reports tlie
esman last week—
i on which he has
All lost but wife.
srvices in Montreal
Hpoke so well that
the mcetinj,' from
fivnest questioning
(ort of intellectual
rom this. Sir A.
sip ; but the letur
Indicate a work 't
ihe Church. ^Vll.v
thee."
lember 1th, 1871.
within hearing
I miles to Albany.
large hall, whcrt
[nday, I travelled
liicuse. Tuesday.
Hay, travelled W
\o miles home."
J<»l'KNAt..
" Ihri'inlter Hli, 1871. — A wiu-k of uiuiHually xcvere weather, travel, and
work, but not uublessrd. A prev.iiling |iower to stay myself upon (lod.
Humbled much in the reading of Mr. Wcsb'y's bfe. Oh, liow inttMinely
he wius consecrated ! What self-renunciation ! What ceaselesH breathing
after God ! I would fain catch somewhat uf his spirit afresh. . . . Some
signK of good in the Churches."
'^December lOth, 1871. — Privileged to speak for Goil this morning, and
I truHt to speak faithfully, to the multitudes to whom I am as one that
can play well upon an instrument. God knows, I do not want applause
but souls."
To E. D .
'* Di'cfiuber 2\«t, 1871. — I write on the coldest day which Canada has
known for many years, and that is sjiying a great deal. I have just come
in from Amora, thirty miles distant, where I preached last night. I
slept in a wretchedly cold room. When I woke this morning my brow
was Uke marble, the water was frozen an inch thick in the basin, and I
found afterwards that the thermometer was thirty-four degi'ees below
zero. Under these circumstances you can hardly e.xpect ideas to flow
freely— although there is no winter in the heart. ..."
Jduknal.
" December 25t God answers prayer ? My prevailing temptation of late
has been to fancy that I am living uselessly. My ' harass ' has not gont;.
but for some weeks returned with increased force, so that in Toronto, I
December Slst, Hamilton, January 14th, and Quebec, January 31st, Iliad
wof ul times, and on the last occasion (last Sunday night) was ready to
pour my heart out in tears, and say ' my burden is greater than I can bejir.'
I am quite well when I leave the pulpit, except for the exhaustion and j
depression consequent on the attack, if I may so call it ; but while preach-
ing, when I should be absorbed in tlie grand realities of my subject, nij I
thoughts are concentrated on my physically miserable self. To my minaj
[chap. XIV
ary 2bth, 1872.
eu we aiTivedin
!» Acrofw the St.
36 ! which 18 now
illy call it here,
oth, but there arc
ike mountainH on
ttle fir bushes like
ic and altogether
ice, with the swift
went out six milis
,ho spray from tht
als as it falls, iiiul
ey cut out an ice
jtc. The cone i«
now it is forty feet
ts steep sides on a
ieveral times, much
;azed and wondered.
y were with us at
nar got a telegram,
nan bore it bravely,
itient to know the
is gone,' which so
1872.]
A WEDDING IN NEW YORK.
369
mmiry 28«/(, lft"2-
your last letter, so
erise it— a heaven-
it that you seem to
ly particular time .'
temptation of late
.rass ' has not gone
that in Toronto,
January 3l8t, I W
ight) was ready to
:er than lean be.ar.'
[the exhaustion and
[; but while preach-
of my subject, mj I
I self. To my mini
the whole service of last Sunday was a constrained effort, lacking both
okaniCHH and unction and power, and yet wlien I came out, and could
hardly speak lest I should be lietrayed into a burst of agony, there were
thoHC w)io spoke of the sermon as a blessed means of grace, and one
isfccially, nearly always reticent, who thanked me in very warm terms.
Xow how can I understand all th^s ? I suppose I must suffer and grow
strong."
To M. F .
"New York, Jamiary 2Wi, 1872.
How strange that any one should have thought me a Unitarian, who
j^lory in the Divinity of Christ as the surest ground of hope, the founda-
tion, ornament, and strength of the whole Christian system."
To HI8 Dauohteu.
"New Yokk, Januanj idt/i, 1872.
. . You know I came here to marry . The drawing-room was
I festooned with evergreens, and on almost every available spot was a
bouquet of rich flowers. Against the wall ,yas erected an alcove of over-
1 tTeeng twined into a wire frame. This was called the * Bower of Love,'
I and under this the couple stood to be mairied. The bride was dressed in
I sky-blue satin, with wreaths and sprays innumerable, and a train about
jthrce yards long. Her sister was the only bridesmaid, drc8.sed in scarlH
Isatin, modestly called wine colour. But she had nothing to do, and sat
lamongat the other guests. The ring made a little pilgrimage before it
jreached its destination. The groom gave it to tlie lady, the lady to me,
land 1 to the groom, and he to the finger where it was to rest. This is
lsup|)ORed to be symbolical of the ' circle,' the endlessness of tlic compact,
|and also of the lady's willingness to go into bonds. You will be amused
kb, as I was, to hear that the lady never uwflored from tlic beginning to
pe end of the ceremony, but when the ring had to be put on she quietly
fhpped off thai fiiujer of the (/lore lohich had been pi-evioudij cut fur the
\wim»e ! Was there ever such a people as this for contrivances for saving
trouble ? "
To Mks. Paukin.
" TojioNTO, February 29 •
absence upstairs."
.ToUUNAL.
" AAn?rA 31»^ 1872.— Some longings after a higher life and many up-
ward breathings, amid the excitement of preparation for tlie dediculi"':
services, to liave the true end in view and the true spirit of worship in 1
holy and beautiful house." *
ToTiiK Rkv. Okkvase Smith.
•M;>n7 G//i, 187J.
" The church was finished and looked perfect. The day wi» glorioUKlyl
fine although the streets were muddy. We had succeeded in getting
reduced return fares from all the railways. Tiffany preached a veryfintl
sermon, rich in good old evangeliciU truth. At night there were up\»anL<[
of 2,300 people at a public meeting, who paid fifty cents each for ticiitt\
We took a collection of #20;"), and a subscription of !i!;'J.'i,00 >
ir life and many wy
1 for till! dediciiti"'.
)irit of worHliip ii: i
le day wnfl gli)nou>lv I
luccoedod in gettincj
preached a very tint I
t there were upwapbl
ents each for ticlciivl
of «2r),00<». SudiJ
deed in Canada. ^Vel
ition services will U|
lay. I reuieuil)eri4
ujoieed also.''
in vain. My future is a perplexity to me, and yet I know that //#■ will
point out my way. The friendH here are very urgent for my reuiaining,
and point to our HUCceMH in thix dedication as an additional arguinent, hut
the indicationH of the la«t year Heem Htrong homeward. Right weeks
more will bring U8 to the Conference, and from this time forward I nhall
U' exceedingly busy. As they have wished mo to go with Mr. Perks to
thf (ieneral Confenmce, at Urooklyii, I purpose to leave for New York
jlxnit May Ist, and act Jis his cicerone among some of the American
citit'8, and to the Falls of Niagara. Howman Stephenson, I find, is
coming out also. It will be st) refreshing to meet with old friends in
thin far-off, but by no means inhospitable clime."
To THE Rkv. OkhVASK S.MITII.
" New York, .Va.y 9r//, 1872.
" Wiseman and I have been now nearly a week together. Do you
remeniher an evening when we paced the square in front of this house,
unaWe to get a breath of air, and almost baked by the consuming heat ?
It is pretty much like that now. The summer has come, as the winter
dill, preternaturally, and I am writing coatless ami perspiring. . . . We
made our debut yesterday. Wiseman acquitted himself well, but not
111 his best style. He seemed a little constrained. , . . This morning
we kith spoke at the Uible meeting. . . . Wiseman did grandly.
Gavazzi was there and spoke, — a piece of inimitable acting."
To E. D .
;M)2 k, Fiktkentii Stkeet, Njw Youk, May \1ih, 1872.
" . . . I have to preach this afternoon in the Brooklyn Academy of
Music, which will hold ii,CM)0 people, and the heat of the day is most
I oppressive. May the Great Helper assist me fully to proclaim the Truth !
"Gp.m. Hallelujah! One of the greatest occasions of my life
s over. Four thou.siind people were present. I did not think I had
[freedom; there were some disturbing forces, and I was highly nervous,
but my subject (Col. ii. 1, 2) inspired me. I was greatly excited and
greatly exhausted, but restful in Cod's goot^ness and truth. Three of
the bishops, Morris, Ames, and Simpson v -e there. Philip Phillips
lied the singing, and the benediction wius pronounced by Father Haker,
travelling companion of Bishop Asbury, the oldest Methodist jjrcacher i
I Ik' world, as he will lie ninety-seven next. Tune. My heart is very full of
iLTatitiule for the great privilege of which 1 feel too unworthy, of sjRtaking
linr Jesus. . . .
"The Conference comes on, and is a great anxiety. Of course I carry
lout my promise and announce my decision. It will be painful. I shall be
lu sorry to leave Canada as I was to leave Enghmd. So far aa I can judge,
llowcvcr, and I try to judge dispivssitmately, the cloud points that way."
R
i7'
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XIV.
The followiug passages from Dr. Puushon's address
to the General Couferonce, at New York, in 187'2,
present his view of tlie progressive mission of
Metliodism, and tell of his reverence for those who
have finished their course : —
' I have obflvrvcd, I think, a gradual growth in the oHtimation anl
honour in which thu Wualuyiin MuthculiHt Church in Knghmd iH held liv
all thu KngliHh people ; but thin hiui been obtained, not by thu oHtciitatioui
puHhing of itHulf into pubhc notice, but by its couHiHtent and (larnist
doing of its proper work ; it hoH won an almost national recognition and
OHteem. Time wiih, and not long oince, when it was otherwise ; whtm mi
formidable wiim the reproach of MothmliHui, and 8o ovurHbadowinj; th«
influence beneath which it wrought and Huifcred, that it could Hcaralr
get Hufficiently into the light to let itH pure religion and undufilud i»,w
under the obnervation of men. It was the cuHtom Hometinies to i^^noriil,
HonntimeH with an air of patronage to tolerate it, HomctimeH kindly to
apologiHo for it, and at best to atwociatc itH fervour with fanaticism, and
to regard it an an irregular and very humble hcl|>er, which might !<*;
Muffered, though with Home miHgiving, to do a little guerilla-fighting in
the Hervice of Christ. For long years English MethodiHm bore all thi«
very patiently, courting no antagonism ; like Nehemiah hardly deigning to
come down from its great work even to defend its character, but alwavj
planting Churches and always saving souls. Now it is having its rcwani,
Of course there are yet those who scorn, and those wh(t hinder ; bigotry
and prejudice are not by any means dead ; but thu Methodism "f
to-day occupies a very different position from the Methodism evi-n nf
twenty years ago. It is how recognised as a :
overHhadowiiig the
lat it could Hcnrcclv
and undefiled iM.mt
metinies to ignore it,
wmctimeH kindly ti
with fanaticism, and
|)er, which might U
I guorilla-fightiny in
bodiHm l»oro all thi«
I hardly deigning to
iiiracter, hut iilwap
is having its ri'wani.
(v-ho hinder ; l.)igotrj-
the Methodism of
Methodism even nf
power. It is liaiW j
charge of being a
)uncil of the nation.
sons sit among the
hile thousands and
gospel of the Ls but in temples, anrit and cleansing tiame. Her
i^Tiiwing influence, tluM'efnre, points out her solenni duty. I trust in (Sod
nbe will Ih! faithful to «lo it. . . .
" I have diMM)vered what I think to Ito a very hopeful sign in Itritish
Methodism, and that is, that while it retains with unliending firmness all
iiH fornur principles, it has Itecome more flexible in its nusles of lurtion.
It adapts itself to new necessities with an easier grace ; it liM)ks with more
indulgence u|M>n Istid efforts to do the Master's work, although they may
not run ([uite in the gi-oove of the fornu;r times ''
"My heart would reproach me, were 1 to sit down without one other
rt'fereiK-e. I hardly know how to enter upon it, for as I hnik hack to the
liist (ienenil Conferencie, anil think of these four eventful years, and of
the chang»!S those years have wrought, I am as one in a ilream — a dream
whirl) is liright on its heavenward side, but which on its earthward has a
rude anil strange awakening, a dream which the destruction of the place
in which you then met, atui in which I was honoured to gi-cet you, has
(Ty!reditary charm for me, whose saintly
spirit exhaled so sweet a fragrance tliat the perfume lingers with me yet.
and who went home like a plumed warrior, for whom the everlasting doors
were lifted, as he was stricken into victory in hia prime, and who hiul
nothing to do svt the last but mount into the chariot of Israel and go
' Sweeping through the gates, washed in the Blood of the Lamb.'
" Sirs, these are no common losses. I weep with you on account of
them, and I am gratified to Aveep with you, for ' a sword hath pierced into
my own soul also,' and I have borne my own burden of loss and sorrow ;
but the.se, your comrades, fell in hallowed work, on hallowed grountl.
Bravely they bore the banners while they lived, but the nerveless hand
relaxed its hold, and they have passed them on to others."
To Mrs. Parkin, Siikffiei.d.
"Hamilton, Canada, .¥«y 20th, 1872.
" Last Sunday after
e Lamb.'
ou on account of
[ hath pierced into
loss and sorrow ;
hallowed ground.
;he nerveless hand
s."
3/«.y '20(/», 1872.
sand people in the
at occasions of my
were the heat, and
ut it was a glorious
love my lifeworkas
ess will master me;
much hefvi-r and
[ight try to establish
"the Lord will open |
me here yesteiday,
k1 p«mer. I rejoice I
e are trying to W
he work has been *>
[think it will surely]
,9 I was to come to I
luncle'8 bereavement I
\ motive to return,
To E. D .
MoNTKKAi., Juni- 2ii(/, \HT2.
" This is a great festival here, the festival of Cor/nm Chr/nti, and Roman-
ism is abroad in all its pomp and pai^euntry. . . . Wi' were in Coboiiri^
from Monday to Wediu'sday. The ('onvocation was hold on Tuesday, un. I resisted almost to the point of offensive-
ness. I felt that it would be unbecoming to refuse finally, so that I am
actually ' doctored,' whether I will or no." *
"... On Wednesday the Conference begins ... wo shall have many
things that may arouse feeling and that will demand greater tact and
wisdom than I have at command. But I am trying to cjist all this con-
ne.xional burden on the Lord, that He may sustain me and bring out the
is-iiue to His glory."
JoUHNAl..
•' Tufudai/, June 4//t. We had a rich, ripe sermon from Mr. Wisei;ian on
Sabbath evening, on ' Jesus sat thus on the well,' — full of fine instruction
I and exquisite touches of nature brought out of the deptlis of the Word.
Then we h.-^d the sacrament, which opened heaven. I felt warmly
grateful, thoroughly devoted, rostfully happy — surely it was an omen for
good. iVnd yet I fear I spoke yesterday more severely tiian 1 ought, and
fierhiips wounded the foclings of a very estimable brother. How difficult
IS to keep guard ovei" the tongue. . . ."
" Thii-xihii/, June (jtii. — I hardly know how to approach the question of
Imv own departure. Allectionate invitations to stay are priissed on me
Ifrom every side, and I^cmnot hide frotn myself that I have an influence here
|«ich as no other man has. Yet I go — have promised to go — and although
iirvously au.xious not to make a providential mistake, believe I shall
: led rightly. At any rate, I go from greater power to loss, and finm
larsj'tr salary to smaller, so I have the satisfaction of knowing that I am
pot moved by selfish aims."
k, 1871.
Immodious buildin?.
\ city of HamilUml
It to this Home, anJ
' In the course of nearly half a century this degree has been conferred
"hiinscdum only thirteen times by Victoria University. Surely this is no
kvish bestowal of honorary degrees by what is, with one exception,
believe, the only ]\Iethodist University in the British Empire. And
bubtle.-;s it would not have l)een the privilege of a Canadian University to
k>nfer tliis degree, honourable alike to those who gave and to him who
ok it, had Dr. Punshon belonged to one of the religious boilies in Great
htain who control the Universities of that country.
CHAPTEK XV.
1872-1873.
CA NA DA .-ENGL A ND. Aged 48, 49.
Journey to the North-West. — Shipwreck. — Visit to Missions in 5I;iiii-
toba. — Japan Mission. — Church Dedication at Baltimore. — Longfellow.-
Tlie Mississippi. — Now Orleans and the South. — Farewell to Canada.
^ JoUKNAI,.
^►- " June IGth, 1872. — Praise to ( Jod I May His great name be praised for
ever more. The Conference has passed over, and the God who makes
men to be of one mind in one house was evidently with us. It has been
decidedly the most important of the five Conferences over which I havt
been honoured to preside. And yet, though there was much difference df |
opinion, there was substantial unity at last, and brotherly love throughout.
Questions of difficulty were satisfactorily solved ; the c«immutation quis-
tion amicably settled ; the principle of division of Conferences affirmed :
the way cleared for a union with the Conference of Eastern British I
America, and, if they so please, with the New Connexion ; and la.st, nut
lea-st, it wjis decided to open a school in the city of Montreal. ... I speak ]
last in this brief record, of my own pulpit failure ; my morbidne.ss cul-
minated on Sabbath, and I was obliged to ask Mr. Bowman Stephenson t<'
relieve me for a few minutes. Is this an indication of Thy will, Lord,!
or a temporary feebleness only V Not so much depressed about it as I
feared I should be. Trying to know His will, that I may do it. Announced
that, so far as I could see, I sat in the chair for the last time. A sea-son ot|
deep feelings, exercise, solicitudes, hope and pain.''
" Jh/(/ 1th, 1872.— Brought back in safety from a visit to the Conference I
of Eastern British Americji, where I renewed the acquaintance of fourj
years ago. . . . To-morrow, by God's blessing, I start for Manitoba on al
missionary tour to the Great North-West. I pray to be presened inj
journeying and to be enabled to do some good."
iS/Z-l
WRECKED ON LAKE SUPERIOR.
m
49.
Missions in ^Iiiiii-
re. — Longfellow.-
ivell to Canada.
name be praised for
he God who makes
" ua. It hivs been
over wliich I have
much difference A
y love throughout.
commutation que*-
inferences affirmed ;
of Eastern British i
ixion ; and last, iiui I
ntreal. ... I W^ \
ny morbidness cul-
man Stephenson U'
Thy will, Lord,!
essed about it as 1 1
doit. Announced!
time. A sea-son of |
it to the Conference!
iquaintance of four I
i for Manitoba on a|
to be presened ml
To Mks. Park in.
"WiNNII'KCi, PllOVINCK Ol' MaMTOII.V,
"Kkd lllVKK OK TIIK NoUTll. JuliJ '21lh, 1872.
" Does your geography carry you as far as your letter has come V For
yours of July 5th has reached me here in this far North-West, one tliousand
miles from Torop* ., where I have come on a missionary tour — the
missionaries of the Sa.skatt!howan district having travelled nearly the same
distiuice to meet mo and my companions. Perhaps you may have heard
that I have been in peiils oft during the journey. Annie and Morley
came with me to the head of [iake Superior, and tlien returned.
•• We left Toronto on July Hth, and travelled to Sjirnia by rail. A train
(iff the tnick ahead detained us two hours — incident the first. Embarked
on Ixitird the stejimer Manitoba, called at Goderich, Soutliampton, Bnice
Miner, all on Lake Huron, passed through the St. Mary's river, aiul
about (') p.m. on the 11th went through the canal at Sault St. Marie,
wliich separates Lake Huron from liake Superior. A great wall of fog
mot us as we entered the latter, the most enormous biisinof fresh water \\\
llie world, unless Lake Nyan/.a .shall lx> proveil larger. We toiled tlirough
tiie fog all night. .\l)out I {.ni. on Thunsday the 12th, I was stiiudingtm
the fore deck, the fog dense and heavy, and the captain said to me. 'We
are going along like a pig in a poke.' ' More intelligently than a pig, I
liope," was my reply, ' for you know wliere you are going." ' Oh, yes,' was
his answer. The fog Wiis coming p.m.,
the Mimitob(t was pidled off the rocks, but alas, only to fill with water ;
so she was beac^hed in about twelve feet of water, and all the passengers
TT-
■i
m
378
fV. MO RLE Y PUNS HON.
[chap XV.
transferred to tlie Ciniihnhiml, in which we made the rest of our vovii;,'(,
Annie was very I/ravu— indeed all the paiwenyers behaved very well. I ani
tleeply grateful for this additional instance of God's providential care, itnd
would give Him all He has j^iven and all He has spared.
" At Dulnth, the head of Lake Sui>enor in the State of Minnesota, wo
took the Northern Pacific railroad, just built and a wonderfully (larigiMoiK
affair, to Moorehead, a small place of TjOO people, founded last Septonihtr,
in which already every second house ia a dance house, a gaming house, or
a saloon, where a decent woman is a rarity, where oaths are the currency
of the place, and where to use their own language, ' it is a dull day that
goes over without a shootin,' that is, not of game, but of man. I never
saw such a Sodom as Moorehead. We took steamer on the Red River, anil
until we got to Pembina, 150 miles from this, had the State of Minnesota
on the one hand, and the Territory of Dakotah on the other, and in
the GOO miles, we did not see two hundred houses. At Pembina we
re-entered the British territory, and came into this new Canadian
province of Manitoba. To-morrow morning I preach and conduct the
first ordination service ever held by our Church in the North- West ! ! "
To HIS Dauohtkr,
" DiJt.UTH, Minnesota, Auf/uat 4//i, 1872.
" However, we reached Fort Garry at last, and had a pleasant time
there ; saw lots of Indians, interviewed and dined with Governor Archi-
bald, did not see Riel or Bishop Tache ; saw the spot where Scott was
murdered ; had a two dtays' conference with the missionaries, who were all
present but one, and he (Sinclair) appeared before we came away ; sug-
gested, counselled, made peace ; preached, ordained John McDougall. held
a missionary meeting, administered the sacrjimcnt, visited the Presbyterian
minister, was visited by an Archdeacon and a confrere of the inferior
clergy, lectured twice, went up to the residence of the Governor of the
Hudson's Bay Company, saw owls, and hawks, and buzzards, and three or
four bald old eaglos ; came up to Frog Point by steamer, and thence to
Moorehead by stage, and had to be transhipped on the railroad yesterday at
a place where the road had suddenly gone down six feet, the engine and car
gracefully disappearing from sight ! I am here, resting on the Sabbath.
thankful for preserving mercy, and for a fair share of health, and for the
means of grace, and the blessed sacrament, and for the chance which I
hope to have to-night of testifying for my Miister. By the way. young
lady, I would have you know that you have an Iwlian father. I am
adopted into the Cree tribe of Indians, and have received the name of
' Wau-bu-nu-tiik,' which being interpreted means ' The spirit of the
morning.' I trust our visit has done good. I have been much struck
with the self-denial and earnestness of the missionaries, and with
1872.1
MISSIONARY TOURS.
379
f Miiinesoti, wo
erf ully daiit^croiis
J last Septenilier,
gaming house, or
aro the currenty
is a dull day that
of man. I never
lie Red River, and
bate of Minnesota
the other, and in
At Pembina we
,ia new Canadian
and conduct the
^orth-West ! ! "
[uflustAth, 187'2.
,1 a pleasant time
li (rovernor Archi-
where Scott wa.'<
[iries, who were all
came away ; sug-
n McDougall. held
il the Presbyterian
. of the inferior
(rOvernor of the
;ards, and three or
ler, and thence to
|lroad yesterday at
lie engine and car
on the Sabbath.
[ealth, and for the
chance which 1
;y the way. young
\m father. I am
lived the name of
he spirit of the
)een much struck
laries, and with
the vastncss of the field they have to cultivate, es|)ccially in the great
Sankatchewan cou itry.
Some of the miisionaries had come from 1,000 miles west to be with
IIS. We gathered Ae whole nine or ten from each station, and hatl a
li|es.s(d little Conference. One of them even had not seen a railway for
twelve yeara. I felt so dwarfed in their presence. Tliese are the true
heroes of the Lord's host. I felt it almost presumption to assume any
official position, and to counsel and question them ; I would gladly have
•vit at their feet. We spent two days in close converse about the work,
it.'* an.xieties, prospects, dangers, openings, etc. . . .'*
To E. D .
"C()n(H?K(}, Septemhpr Uth, 1872.
• 1 have had a sight of new beauties this week. Some of the scenery
in the Muskoka district is exceedingly lovely, and on Monday the M.P.
for the district placed a steamer at my disposal, and I with a party of
friends spent the day on the Lakes, Lake Muskoka, Lake Rosseau, and
Lake Joseph, all of the loveliest type of Scotch scenery, with little
dots of islands, amounting to nearly a thousand, and varying in size
from twenty yards to three miles. We returned to Bracebridge at
night, and I lectured there, and praached on Tuesday at an Indian camp-
meeting at Rama, listening afterwards to an Indian .sermon and prayer-
meeting, with five large blazing fires built on platforms of wood. There
were about four hundred Indians present and they seemed very earnest
;ind lively. I preached, of coui*se through an interpreter. There are five
kal preachers at Rama, of the names respectively of Joseph Benson,
Isaac Yellrwhead, William Quake, Jacob Shilling and William Bigwind,
and the platform at the cjimp ground was put up by Isaac Rocky iVIoun-
taiii, and the sermon preached by James Big Canoe. It is very interesting
he amongst these children of the forest, keeping their feast of Taber-
luchs."
TotiieRkv. W. O. Booth.
'•MoNTKKAi,, October 2Ut. 1872.
"Since May I have indeed been busy and I have had no leisure time.
First came the Genenil Conference. . . . Then came our own Conference,
which was a mo.st trying and important one. Then the Eastern Confer-
ence in Halifax, where I supplied Wiseman's lack of service. Then the
I miwionary visit to Manitoba, with its shipwreck and mosquito troubles.
Then a second missionary tour into Muskoka — the part of Ontario that is
rallying and but recently colonised ; and then three weeks ago I was pitched
I'jutof il carriage and bruised and shaken heavily, and my whole nervous
bystein unstrung. With all this I have had to preside over three impor-
Itant committees — one to confer with the representatives of the New
|('mne.\ion on Methodist union ; one our own Missionary Committee which
.<>■■
ii
i.
■
m
Ml
N''
p'
380
W. MORLRY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. XV.
is now composed of some eighty members, and distributes all the apprn-
priations once a year ; and the last, which is now in session in tliis citj, a
committee on the division of Conference ; and to meet the representativis
of the Eastern B.A. Conference with a view to a federal union. ... We
are now discussing whether there shall be a General Superintendent in the
General Conference, or whether there shall be Presidents of Annual Om
ferences who shall have co-ordinate authority and preside over the General
Conference in turn. We are likely to split on it ; as some of us, myself
included, will have nothing to do with the creation of a lK)dy without a lieud.
" October 22n(l. — We have tided over the difficulty. Tliey liave iiddpted
a suggestion of mine, tliat there shall be three General Snporiiittndeiit>
liolding office from one General Conference to another.
JOUKNAI,.
^^ Norember HUh, 1872. — Our Missionary Committee held in Brockvillt,
was marked by a good spirit and an increased sympathy witli the mission-
ary cause, and a determination arrived at, on the whole with wonderful
unanimity, to commence a mission in Japan. I thank God for this decision.
I find that wlicn I commit these matters to His hand, bringing ail
the wisdom and power I can muster to the advocjvcy of what I Iwlievi
to be right, He either strangely makes men to ])e of one mind in
one house, or gives me to feel that what I have not adv icated
on the whole the best. I think He luis taught me also the secret of j
waiting, knowing that thought is like seed, and it requires time to ger-
minate, and is sometimes slow of growth. . . ."
To Miss P .
" Bai-timokk, U.S., November 2[)th, 187'2.
"... If the Conferences have only grace to accept the recommenda
tions of the Committee, I shall have been privileged to help forwanll
schemes whose issues may stretch into the future further than human I
sagacity can foresee. . . .
" I dedicated a church here yesterday which cost ^40< 1,000, or £80,0(«i.
It is very beautiful, but I like my own church better, though built at about |
a third of the cost. The Sunday School- room, however, is the most per-
fect I ever saw. It is nearly sixty feet high, and mil hold about fourl
hundred children. At one end is a beautiful organ, in front of which, onj
a raised dais, is the superintendent's desk. . . , The walls will be hunjl
with pictures, the floor is all carpeted, in the centre a fountain plays, j
The windows are of stained glas.s. There is a gallery at one end. Under!
neath this, with sliding doors, is the infant class-room. In the gallervl
are three beautiful rooms, two for Bible-classes, and one for the libranl
fitted up with shelves, with a separate compartment for each book. TheJ
general effect is marvellously beautiful."
[CHAP. XV.
tcs all the appni-
dy without a licaii.
They have adupteil
al Superintendent'
held in Brock villt,
y with the mission-
lole with wonderful
lod for this decision.
hand, bringing all
y of what I iHilievi'
)e of one mind in
e not advocated i'
also the secret of
squires time to gtr- 1
rember 2(M, IR'i
)t the recommemia
id to help forward
[urther than human [
,00,000, or £80.0(«'.
lOUgh built at about
er, is the most per-
ill hold about four
front of which, on
walls will be hun?
a fountain plays.
[t one end. Under-
im. In the gallery!
one for the libraryl
for each book. The!
,872 .] CHURCH DEDICA TION A T PHIL A DELPHI A .
To E. D .
381
"Stanstead, Pkovincb of Quebec, Dpcfmhev \nt, 1872.
"... I had a very tedious journey yesterday from Boston, not
arrinng, in consequence of heavy snows and train off the track in front
of us, until nearly midnight, so I had only poor preparation for this morn-
ing's labour. I have needed comfort sorely, for the dread of another
trouble is upon me. Fanny is the subject of great and grave concern.
She has been ill now for a month past. ... It is possible that my fears
magnify the reality, and I may find her, week after week, much better.
God grant it may be so. ' My one little ewe lamb,' although .she is
sheltered in another fold."
' Monday, Deceinher 2nd. — But for my anxiety about Fanny my tour
would liave been a very pleasant one. Wlien we left Toronto on Monday
morning it was quite fine, but before we reached Niagara we were in a
Winding snowstorm. On Tuesday night we reached Ithaca, very beauti-
fully situated at the foot of Cayuga Lake ; tbence we made our way to
.llbany, and thence to New York. On Saturday we travelled down to
Baltimore, where on the Sabbath I dedicated the church of which they
wished me to become pastor, with a salary of $5,000 per annum, six weeks'
vacation, and an elegantly furnished house. The church i.s one of the
costliest in the States and has cost $400,000, or £80,000. The interior is
rather dark but very fine. . . . The people, moreover, are very kind, and
more heartily Methodisticivl than many in the States, so you see I am
giving up £700 a year to come home. We returned from Baltimore to
New York on Monday, and on Tuesday evening my friend Mr. E , who
has recently taken to himself a w^ife, had his wedding reception, to which
five hundred guests were invited ! Happily it was wet, so only about two
hundred came. ... I lectured in Boston on Thanksgiving night, much
to the detriment of my audience, who would, I dare say, rather have been
I at their family reunions. During my stay in Boston we went through
the burnt district. Oh, what a sight ! Fancy sixty acres of what a while
ago was a flourishing city, in ruins ! It did not seem, however, to interfere
»ith the elasticity of the people. They are wonderful pieces of human
I India-rubber."
To M. F .
" On Friday we took a drive to Cambridge, where is Harvard University,
I and the beautiful Mount Auburn Cemetery. The rain prevented our great
enjoyment, so we resolved to make the best of it; and if we could not
liave the pleasure of exquisite scenery, we determined for once in our lives
Itobe impudent, and see if we could not make our lives memorable, so on
I the strength of a letter of introduction, and after a sturdy bombardment
|of several houses which were not what wo wanted, wo found oui-selves in
r
r
382
IV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAI'. XV.
the grounds of an old-fashioned house in which General Washin^jton oiire
hved, and which is now the fitting residence of H. W. Longfellow. Wi
sent in cards and asked if Mr. Longfellow was at home, and would ivceive
us. The answer was in the affirmative, so in wc went. We weif met
almost on the threshold by the poet himself, with a glorious liuad, ami
hair and beard as white as snow. And there in Longfellow's own Htudv,
a fit lair for such a genius, with everything antique — busts, pictuns,
book-cases, and a hundred-year-old fireplace — we sat chatting for halt
an hour."
To HIS Dauoiitek.
"StanstkaI), Drcemher 1«<, 1872.
" As I find it will take some days to get a letter from here to Cobourg,
I take the opportunity of the quiet Sabbath afternoon to offer you, frtsh
and warm from a father's heart, birthday wishes and greeting which would
fain ask for you 'abundance of peace ' for many years yet, if such be the
Father's will. You have been always on my mind, and much in my prayers,
since I saw you. I have supplicated submissively, and yet with an earnest
ness which I hope is not unwarranted, for returning strength and long life,
and many blessings for you after this loving purification of the Fathers
has done its work of healing. It has been a struggle for me to keep my
mind free from painful solicitude about you, but I have been for the most
part enabled to commit you wholly to the Saviour's care. . . .
" God send his good angels to guard and bless thee, my child. From the
weary morning in December 1850 — until now, when your child is dear to
me, I have never ceased to cherish you in my heart of hearts ; and I dn
not cease now, although you have a happy home of your own. May God
bless it to you and keep you to it for many years. If my heart could gd
out upon the paper, it would burn. Again God bless my darling cliiid.
To Mrs. Parkin.
" ConouRG, December llth, 187i
" As I grow older I seem to cling more tenaciously to the friends |
of youth, and those especially who have been proved by time, and art
hallowed to me by congeniality of spiritual feeling. ... I find on exami- 1
nation that we have in Canada 100 more ministers and 900 more memk'^|
in Church fellowship than when I carae, and the increase in tin
value of connexional property has been very large. Then we leaivnl
.CI, 000 from the Home Committee. Now we are indepeiulciit i^f
financial help, and our increase in missionary contributions has been this
year SIO.OOO or £'2,000. Thank God for such a record. . . . ItwiiJ^ij
a pang for me to leave Canada. It will always be endeared to me h) 1
memories of joy and sorrow, of usefulness an(jl solicitude, and I have made I
many friendships here which will abide."
• .*>
■873-]
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW.
383
WiiHhin}|tnn onre
Longfellow. AVi
ind would receive
1. We were met
;loriou8 head, iimi
illow's own Htudy.
— busts, piclurt>,
chatting for half
cffuher \st, 1S7'2.
n here to Cobourg,
to offer you, fresh
eeting which would
yet, if such be the
nuch in my pniyers.
ret with an earnest-
ength and long life,
,ion of the Fiithers
for me to keep my
ra been for the most
re. . . .
ly child. From the
four child is dear h'
heart,s ; and I Ai
ur own. May God
my heart could s?" I
y darling child."
•ember lUh, 187'2.
isly to the fricnd<
d by time, and an
. I find on exami-
900 more meml•t^ j
i increase i" tht
Then we revived
i-e independent "fj
.ions has been this
^d. . . . ltwiuW|
indeared to n\e 1)
ie,andlhaveniade
.Journal.
^^Decemher '26fh, 1872. — Brouglit safely to another Christmas Day.
Enteriiij,' into tlie spirit of the blessed Advent, and feel my iieart overflow-
ing with gratitude, and with desire for that mind, 'which was also in
Christ Jesus.' My daughter a little better. Lord, undertake for lier
and for us."
To E. D .
" Deremher 2iJtfi, 1872.
"Christmas Day has come and gone, and in spite of all drawbacks
was a liappy one. Old fashioned indeed it was, for it wjis snowing
furiously all day, and as we look out this morning there are three
feet of snow on the level. The liust few days have been bitterly cold,
and, 80 far, against Fanny ; but she was able to be up and di-es.sed yester-
day, and does not seem much woi-se for it — this morning baby wiis the
heroine as' far as presents went, and was set down on the progiamme to
■ pat-a-cake ' for our special benefit. My heart overflowed with gi'ati-
tude, and I seemed able to tru.st, without misgiving, all my fortunes and
destinies for both worlds in my h)ving Father's hands.
Journal.
"December 21tli, 1872.— The last Sabbath of the New Year ! nearer to
the bourne than ever before. Had a seivson of strange depression and
conflict this morning. Fanny very ill, my own symptoms equivocal, the
pulpit trouble increasing to a di-ead. Home and Church anxieties, and
the chronic unbelief of my own heart, all seemed to master me, and in a
very agony I cast myself on the promises, and wtis soothed and comforted.
How little the multitudes who witness my public appearances know of
my private conflicts, or can imagine my faint-heartedness and sorrow.
I am brave for others, for them my faith never wavers, but for myself,
I feel it hard to trust always. . . . ' Lord increase my faith.' It is the
prayer of the years, answer it fully and soon." •
To Mrs. G .
"Toronto. Janmvij Hth, 187:5.
"I am beginning to feel, now that 187.'5 hius actually arrived, that the
time of my separation from Canada nears apace. I am wonderfully
ittached to this place and peot)le. If I had come here a few years
eiiiiier, or before I had struck roots at home, 1 could gladly have made a
[Mmanent home in this fair, free, forest land, — as 1 believe the freest
lanil (Ml earth."
Journal.
''February 2(m/, 187;i. — Much in travel through exceedingly severe
weather, but preserved in the providence of God. Enabled, tliough with
I intervals of langour, to keep my consecration. Dr. and Mi-s. Palmer have
Ven labouring in Tonnito, much to the quickening of the Church, and the
384
W. MO R LEY rUiVS/ION.
[CHAI>. XV.
coiivcrmonof sinnerH — wherein I jfrciitly rejoice. Although I caiinot fully
enter into their modes of working, I have taken myself to task in this
matter, and have attked whether it ia not that I live on a lower plajn
than they. It may be ho ; but while I would in all humility confess mi.
faithfulness, I cannot see aa they sec, nor read the Scriptures about holi.
ness as they interpret them, God forbid, however, that 1 should fail tn
be glad in their huccchs."
To 1118 Niece.
" Fthnumj ]4ll,, IHTl
" Let UH all trust more, dear la.ssie, and brood less, sing moru ami
sorrow less, work more and worry less. And Jesus, to whom we tell all
our griefs and cares, will bear our burdens or strengthen our i)acks-it
does not matter which — for in either civse we shall do well. I fear
I can preach better than practice, but I am looking and longing fur
more faith."
To HIS Dal'(;iitek.
"MississiiMM River, Me.mpmis, Te^s., Ftbrmn'i/ 20th, 1873.
" I saw a genuine ' plantation ' for the first time yesterday. The owiiir s
house, the negroes' cabins, the fields, the barns, the stables, and the bij;
bell in the centre which summoned the hands to work. The scene on the
leire here ia unusually stirring and interesting. Thousands of bales of
cotton and barrels of sugar — large steamers (the saloon of the ont
I am in ia nearly twice as long as the Metropolitan Church) — hundreds
of negroes, their white teeth glittering as they flash out frequent
laughter, in contrast to the sable of all the rest of them— the jargon
of strange sounds, the shouting, chaffing, swearing, dancing, fighting,
hurrying and scurrying, make up a scene, the like of which I never saw
before, I have just seen a young negress, rainbowed in the followins;
fa.«hion : black bonnet, dark red rose, trailing sprig of ivy, hron-n veil,
brown print dress, white feather, irhite petticoat, elaborately di.splajiJ,
blue bracelets, and bright vetl shawl, and bright f/reen gloves. ...
" The water we wash in hero is the colour and consistency of pea-.»ioup
rather strongly mixed, before we use it, and afterwards resembles lamp-
black oil."
To HIS Niece,
" Februanj 2Ut, 1873.
"How can a man write, with the tremulous motion of the ve8,»;el, I
and with a masquerade ball going on in the saloon hard by — whea'ii|
lot of men and girls are fooling themselves in sheets and pillow cases,
and horrible masks, to while away the time ? ... It has been a brilliant I
day. The sun has shone clear and splendid, but the air has been keen
and cold, although so far south. There is nothing specially beautiful I
in the scenery. It is not half so beautiful as the St. Lawrence, but j
■87J-]
NEW ORLEANS AND MOlill.E.
385
ugh I CiUUiot fully
\i t() tank in this
on a lower iiluiii
mility confess iin.
pturcH about holi-
iit I should fail ti>
it is a niagnificont river notwitiista(i«Uii>(. . . . Wt- have paMHcd iiiter-
miiiiiblf forests of eotton-wixMi an(>iiit{ oiico iit iiiiy ratu, iitid I dont
rugrot tliiit I liiivu Hcoii II New Orluiiiis CiiriiiviU." . . .
To IMS DAltillTKU.
"Savannah. (JKoiHiiA, SUirvh \M, |H7.i.
'• I wiiH HO fU^li^'lited this luoriiin;^ to get nowH of you by the ri'ccipi
of your li'tttTN of the IHth iiiul IHtli. 'I'lu) fellow in tlif jiost oIUccmiI
then; wii« no li'ttor for uio ; I hiipjiriii'il to sue Amiio'H hiiiiilwritini.' iml
HO corrected hiiii at ouco, hut cviii thiii I did not ^,'ct yours, aiul .Mn>
MasHcy hrought it to uic, with a latur one of Aiuiios. a few mouit'iits
afterwards. Ah, thest; Southern people of the lowt-r claws wxc ^,
iuexoiahly stupid. I am trouhled with a chronic desire to punch tliiit
lieails ; which is hardly consistent with a hi},'li state of grace. Kvciytluii.'
here is wofiilly inferior, and the people are exacting, extortionate iiikI
lazy -though politer than the Northerners hy far. . . . We have Ihtii i
line drive tiiis niorning — line for this country, that is— to lionavciituii
cemetery, in which nature hius hung the drapery of mourning. Tiidf an
long avenues of large oak trees, each hranch of which has pendants nf |
Spanish moss. Tiie effect in a cemetery is iiulescrihalily solemn and \\\\-
propriate. 1 am to preach here to-morrow — so 1 follow, you see, in tin
footsteps of John Wesley, 'hand puHxihuH atjuis. . . .' We saw an oak I
under which he preached, and wliich is still called Wesley's oak, amial
spring where he was wont to shike his thirst, which is still called Wesli}'>
spring.
To II KS DAl'tiUTKK.
"St. John Uivkk, Florida, Manh 'it/i, IHTii
"We are shivering with cold (htwn here. That veiierahle person, tkj
oldest inlial>itant, is s;iid never to have known so cold a night in Fliiiidal
as last niglit. . . . Fancy fi-ost in the air at St. Augustine witli tliej
trees all laden witii oranges. . . . There is a large mill at Jacksonvilkl
and the otiier day tiiree-fourths of the men sent woid they could lU'tj
possihly c(.nie to work on account of the cold weathei", the tiienuomiUrl
standing at about 40° above zero ! ! ! "
Jouknai..
" Muirh 10///, 1H72. — By the good providence of (Jod, brought lutnitii^
safi'ty after a month's absence. I have been through the Soiitliern (^t;itr
and have i)eeii interested to see what is left of the old slave life and pbii'j
tatioii system. . . . On the whole have had less dissipation and more wii^
Bciims waiting on th, 1«73.
"I liiul a inoiitirs tour in tlif Soiithcni StiitoN. Tlifn; \h no H|K>i-i)il
Uiiiity ill tlio Hcutu'ry, Imt it in ii journey iiucesHiiiy to coniiiletu oiu'h
|nii|rriiplii('Hl fduciitioti, iiiid maio|iuliitioii. [ iiiii.sluMl up
my tour hy addn-HMiig a ftsw i^ouusi'ls to thi; Prcsitli-nt of tlu' I'liiti-il
Suti'A, wlio wiiH ill thu coMgrc)^:itioii to whirh I pri'ii<;li('ii in Washint^'ton.
»iiii(' I cium' honu! I have iK'gun to Im ;,'rii'von>*ly unsrtth'd, and tiic
iiiiMtlltiiu'iit will continue until the tiiiif of my dcpartun- from Canada
. I iuii so j(lad dear Mr. HifHt in roiuiiiK out. I hope he will enjoy his
vi!.it, tliougli ho comes at a very awkward season of the year. Canada
:iirt'r Idoks so had as in tiie montlis of Mar(;h and A|)ril."
I'u M. F-
'•Nkw Yokk. April 20(li, IHTA.
It is the blessed S;il»batli and I have preac^lietl in St. Paul's, dwclliiij,'
Uniiur Lord's asiHtnsion as the c<)in|ilenu;ut of Ills lesurreetion and tlio
C'Uiplc'tion of His work and triumph. Mr. Hirst, who sits opposite me
writing to dear Clervase. says I preached ri(!lily and iilesscdly, hut then
Iviu kiidw he is partial. If I had any freedom the ^lory is to the Lord.
lam huiuhled almost to jiain, when I tiiink of the intiueiice whicii (iod
la> given me in tiiis country. . . . This afternoon we have Ikjcii into
Dr. Tyiigs Ejiiscopal (Jhuicli, where some two thousand children were
wtliLii'il for their Easter jui)ilee. To-night we are hoping to cross to
llriMiklyii to hear Henry Ward Beecher."
'\iiiril 2\^t. — We heard Henry Ward Beecher last night. The sermon
I wibciiaiiicteristic, and the tinging full of heart. We were introduced to
liim afterwards. When he heard I was returning to Kngland. he said,
Well isn't this a pretty good enough country to live in ':* ' I had a mf)st
iukriiig offer forwarded to me on Saturday, lusking if my services could
Ik secured for a chair in Moral Philosophy in the Toronto University I !
iTliis Wduld give me a settlement, an intiueiu^e over young men, a j)osition
f honour, and about ji2,400 a year."
To John MAtDuNAU), Esi^., Tokonto.
"Nkw Yokk, Ai»ri/ [)tl,, \h~:',.
Mv i»i„\R SlK, — I arrived here yesterday and fouir '. your letter with
li'iiiiuuiiiiciition from Mr. Mowat of ii deeply interesting character. T
|iiu very sensible of the honour confei-red uynm me by the suggestion,
I'lml I have rarely felt anything so flattering, and, under some circum-
f'-'iiices, the position would be congenial, however unworthy I might feel
Mf'l'
388
n\ MORLEY PVNSHON.
[CHAl'. XV.
myself to fill it. My thoughts upon tho subject, however, do not leal
me to the conclusion that I am justified in altei-ing, not my jihuit, for 1 havr
none, but the arrangements whicli seem to l)e marked out for me. ... It
will, I think, occur to you on reflection, that, if there were no other reason,
the relations in which I and our Church stand to Victoria College, and tlit I
apparent disloyalty to its interests which my acceptance of such a positinn |
would entail, would be fatal to tlie proposition."
To E. D-
" Toronto, Mai/ H*h. ]H1?,.
" Yesterday was a solemn and interesting day. In the morning we \vd
a valedictory service, over which T jM-esided, to l)id farewell tothcfiwj
Methodist missionaries sent out by the Canadian Churcli to Japan. Fivtl
years ago, my first official act in Toronto was at a valedictory to the miT.|
who were starting for the Xorth-Wcst. My last official act is therefi)rti
the true succession. I thank (Jod that I liave lived to see this day, ml
that He lias honoured me by making me in any way instrumental in Itriiii-
iiig it about. ... In the evening our beautiful church was filled to ovirj
flowing, while we had tlie Bible meeting. Mr. Hirst has thoroui,'lilvl
enjoyed some of tliese services. It is a grciit comfort to have him liertl
just now. He is a wise and cheerful friend, and as true as steel.
" Thank God for helpful friends — without them life would be desolatel
indeed. . . . The pangs of parting have already begun, and they are liani|
to bear."
Clcsino Word.s of last Sermon pheached in Metuopolttan CiiiRifil
Toronto, May Utii, 1873.
" The long bond which lias united us is now of necessity loosenw
From other lips you will listen to the words of eternal life. Our niteresll
in eacli other, fresh and vivid and hearty now, will become by a law th
is common, and of which therefore we may not complain, fainter arJ
fainter, until down the corridoi's of memory we must gaze, to recall wulj
an effort the names and cii'cumstances that sire so familiar to-day.
deeply in a heart tliat does not soon nor readily forget will be gi'avtii :
distinctest lettering, the name of this House of Prayer, and of the coiij.'n
gation that has gatliered within its walls. , . , There are prophets win
predict your halting,-— there are I fear malignants who would rejoice in '
Be it yours to prove the prophets false ones, be it yours to have ovci t!l
malignants the noljility of a Gospel revenge. As the fathers die, let til
children be baptised for tlie dead, and by a bright succession of manly a'l
intelligent piety prevent the burial ground from becoming richer tliiui ts[
Church,"
[CHAP. XY.
iwcver, do Jiot kail
my phinx, for I have
out for tnc. ... It
verc no other reason,
oria (JoUege, iiiul tlit
ce of such a positum ]
■S7.5-]
[TO, Moi/ H"/. IHTif.
, the nioriiing we lia
1 farewell to the fiw
lurch to Japan. Five
iiletlictory to the nur.
cialact is therefore ir, I
to see this day, iwij
instrumental in Itrin^:
roll was filled to ovirl
Hirst has thorouglily
f(n-t to have him \m\
true as steel,
life would be desolatel
un, and they are haw
FAREWELL TO CANADA.
To M. F-
389
ETUOrOLlTAN ChIR'H.|
of necessity looscmt
nal life. Our mteresj
hocome by a lawtha^
complain, fainter arl
ist ga/.e, to recall wiilj
b familiar to-day. m
•get will be graven :
Iyer, and of the coni:
liere are prophets \vs(
,'ho would rejoice i
/ours to have ovci tJ
;he fathers die, let tj
luccession of manly i«i|
joming richer than t!|
"ToitoNTo. May '1ml, 1873.
" Ahout three Imndred people a.sscmbled last night to do honour to poor
mnvortliy mo. An illuminated address was presented, and an exquisite
I aisket composed entirely of Canadian woods of seven different kinds, and
ranunted with clasps and plate of solid silver. It enclosed a deposit receipt
I to my credit for $4,000 dollars or £800 sterling. I failed lamentably in
my speech. Everybody else did well. I managed, however, to say that I
accepted tlie money on tlie condition that it sliould be invested in Canada,
that I should draw the interest, and the principal at my death should
revert to the Canadian Conference, with the expression of a preference on
I my part that it should be applied for the benefit of the Worn-out Ministers'
I Fund."
To His D.vufiiiTER.
"MoNTKEAr-, May 22nd, 1873.
" We had a pleasant .sail, and Mr. Hir.st tlioroughly enjoyed tlie Thou-
Isand Islands and the Rapids. At Kingston I had to undergo the ordeal of
la deputation and an address. At Brockville the District Meeting ad-
|V)urncd to the wharf, and I wiis addressed by the cluiirman — oh, these
partings ! Wliy should we have to say farewell ! Tliere is a place, thank
jdd, where it is never spoken. ... I have thanked God many a time for
khe courage He gave you when tliat never-to-be-forgotten parting came.
trust He is sustaining you still. Ceaseless prayers will rise every day,
pid almost every liour, for grace and abundant strength and peace, and
iven yet for healing, if it shall be His will."
On the 24tli of May, Dr. Pimshon sailed from
Quebec in the S.S. Sarmafian, and on the 3rd of
lime, 1873, he landed in Liverpool.
m
CHAPTER XVI.
1 873- 1 875.
LONDON, KENSINGTON. Arfrd 4Q to dl.
Once more in England. — Death of his Dauglitcr. — Appointed to Kpik-
ingtf)n. — Upliill Work. — Visits Rome and Naples. — Work in Circuit aii'!
District. — President of the Conference 1874. — Labours of the Year.- 1
Letters and Journal. — Conference of 1875. — Ordination Charge.— Ap-
pointed Missionary Secretary. — At the Mission House.
Thus after an absence of five years, broken onlybvj
a brief visit to England in 1871, was Dr. Punshoii
once more in his native land, eager to resrme lii>|
citizenship of the England within the seas. Not that
he slighted or disparaged that portion of Greater]
Britain where his lot had recently been cast. Hi>J
imagination had been moved by its vastness. Hej
took delight in its noble rivers, its extensive forestNi
its fertile plains. His sympathies had been stirreil
and quickened in the midst of vigorous national lite|
rejoicing in its youth and abounding in hope ; wl
as a Christian, and a minister of the gospel, his wlioW
soul had responded to the great opportunities affonkij
for founding and extending Christian unurclies, t<|
possess the land and inherit the future. And the tiej
of personal friendship formed in Canada had come tJ
be both numerous and strong. Moreover his positioj
i8"3-l
ONCE MORE IN ENGLAND.
,^91
fo 51.
,\,ppointcA to K»ii«
i^ork in Circuit ;iii'!
ura of the Year.- 1
ation Cbarij;e.-Aiv
broken only by
Dr. Punshon
to resrme lii>
;eas. Not that
on of Gri-eater|
Ben cast. His
vastness. He!
lensive forestN'
,d been stinell
[is national lii'e,|
n hope ; wliil^
jspel, Ins wliol'
unities affordt'i:
1 onurclies, t
And the tie!
a had come
iver his positio'
there was one of great distinction and coniinand-
inff influence. English Metliodism could offer him
iiotliing to compare with it. In this old and crowded
fonntry, witli its rigid social barriers, and the deep
cfiilftliat divides the Established Church from Non-
couformist;^, his course must be in many respects
cramped and limited in comparison with that wliich
was open to him in British North America. It might
well have been witli him as with others who have
made the experiment, that he would have found it
impossible to take up again witli life and ministry in
the old country.
Most of the considerations named were felt by bim ;
but there was one that outweighed them all. His
love of England was a passion that many waters
could not quench. Permanent residence elsewhere
was exile, and if that was to be his lot it must be
by unmistakable appointment of God. Nothing less
than the settling of the pillar of cloud in the west
could convince him that he must continue to dwell
there, when from within and from without he felt
himself drawn irresistibly to his native land. Ho
bad gone to Canada too late for naturalization there.
Tiie roots of his life were deep in English soil, and
could not be transplanted.
By the Methodists in England generally his return
was eagerly looked for. By the vast majority of his
iiethren in the ministry also he was warmly welcomed.
Possibly there were a few who thought it might have
been better for him to remain in Canada, to develop
and direct the v.ork over which he had presided, and
plio did not quite see what position in the Church at
loine he could appropriately occupy, after the ex-
392
IV. MORLEY PUNSIION.
[chap. XV!.
inli
I
exceptional position he had enjoyed for some years.
Nor was he quite clear in his own mind on the
subject. He doubted whether his health was equal
to the regular round of *' circuit worli," while there
was no other work for which he could stipulate, or
which seemed likely to present itself. But for this
he was prepared to trust Providence, and in doing so
to wait for the shaping of circumstances and the
judgment of the Conference.
Journal.
" Sepfptuher 2f^th, 187.3. — A long season of silence . . . the record must
be crowrled with the memories of joy and sorrow. Sustained throuj^'h the
scenes of parting with my Canadian friends, and from my dear sufEerin.;
child. . . . The voyage one of mercy. Saw God's wonders in the deep,
sixty icebergs being visible at one ti^ne when off Cape Race, and through
them at nightfall we had to wend our perilous w.ay. Eight large whales
were spouting at the same time in our neighbourhood. Sighted land on
Monday, June 2nd, and on Tuesday was welcomed by my dear fricmi
Gervaso Smith. Mr. Hirst visited me in Canada, and was my companion
home.
" On June 10th I preached in City Road, London, on behalf of West
minster Chapel, when the collection was £2,07l>. On the 17th June, by
the good providence of God, was permitted to rebuild my liome, and was
married by my friend Gervase Smith to dear Mary Foster, the friend of
many years, and of the dead. For this great mercy I desire to render
thanks to a merciful God.
" Went to Newcastle, to be present at tlic Conference. On the first day
of the session I received the tidings that the stroke had fallen, and that
my only daughter slept in Jesus on the 18th of July. ... I had much I
sympathy and many prayers. How much chastening my stubboni spirit
needs ! The Lord will not suffer me to set my affections on the earth. |
but weans me by repcatcfl chastenings. Oh ! that I were more docile.
Fanny's utterances of trust were assuring, and she rests, I know she rests.
with the gone-bcfoi'c. While I mourn for myself, and for dear Alfred.
thus early widowed, I rejoice for her, ' thus early crowned and blest."
" I was received with generous and hearty kindness by my brethren, ami
thanked God for the home feeling with which He inspired me. Iw;is|
pleivsed with the spirit of the Conference. There was a manly indepemi-
ence, with an almt,' Wy which we tliniKJi'il
our way thnmj^'h iufiayi'ant streets to the Colosseum, whii'li we at last
reached, and stood in the semi-daikness, under the sliailow of centuriis,
on tiie site wliere ghidiators liad wrestled anrio'H hody interred yoHtorday in West
minster Ablnty.
• ,|/titus of communicants in our (Jhurch. It was stated in tho discussion
that tlie objections to class meetings arose entirely from the less spiritual
nmong our members and //(////.s/^r.s. I would liuinbly ask myself whether
hhis is true of me. I liavi' tho conviction tliat we lose ministerial
lliieiicc over thousands who are ours by right, by preference, and who
I have at any rate some good thing in tlieni, by insisting in all cases upon
meeting in class; though 1 hold also tiiat the class meeting, properly
tonductcd, is a great blessing, and one of the best Intiann devices to keep
liliilife of God in the soul. God guide us in this matter, for tho issue is
I momoiitous in its bearing on the future of our Church.
"Juiw "til. — Mercifully jircserved through exhausting heat and labour
la my missionary deputation. Had a season of intense difficulty on
JTui'sdiiy while preaching at Brunswick. Distressed by the heat almost
rHdinl endurance, and had the strange flushing feeling, as if the blood
Iwiljoing determined towards the head, wiiich I have had once or twice
la Montreal, but nowhere else. The meetings were uniformly well
liuended, financially succe8.sful, and conducted in a good spirit. During
loy absence I completed my fiftieth year. Oh, how barren my life seems !
Ilhive sincerely wished to make it a fruitful one, but my inconstancy of
purpose humbles me, and the lack of high and abiding spirituaJity causes
pto mourn, Yet T will rejoice in the Tiord, and IJe shall hear my yowg
26
I
'HI' ■■
II
402
W. MO RLE Y PUNS HON.
[CHAP. XVI.
^^ Juw 2\Kt. — Have heard an assuring and encouraging sermon from i"v
young colleague this morning. May tlio Lord bless and prosper mv
l)rother. lie bids fair for eminent usefulness, if he keeps his spirit
right, of which, by God's help, I have no fear.
" ./"/// VMh. — The preliminary Stationing Committee entailed two dius
of close sitting and hard labour. In prospect of the morrow's joiiriuv,
and of the possibilities of the next month, feel full power to stay my snul
on (iod, whether iionour be conferred or withheld. From my heart I
pray that if it be not God's will, I may remain among the multiti'de ot
the brethren. That will I do make supreme."
The allusion of the words last quoted is to the
probability of his being elected President of the
Conference. He was not unaware that this was
generally considered certain. Nor could one so
deeply attached as he to the Conference, so charged
with itp spirit and traditions, be indifferent to the
prospect of becoming its President. Indeed, from
the position he held in English Methodism, and the
offices he had filled in Canada, his non-election to
the chair of the Conference would have had some-
thing of a marked and positive character about it,
not far removed from censure, or an expression of|
want of confidence. It is not impossible that in
depressed and morbid moods some feeling of the sort
crossed his mind, a lingering result of the pain he
had received from certain comments made upon his :
marriage and settlement in Canada.
The Conference of 1874 assembled in Camboruej
on the 29th of July, and Dr. Punshon was elected
Presidc:^t by a very large majority of votes. In
the course of his address on assuming the office he|
said —
" I can truly say that this moment of my honour is the lowliest monKntJ
of my life. Any feeling of elation is effectually overborne by the conl
sciousness of personal unworthine.ss, and by a sense of docpeiiingj
iB74-]
PRESIDENT OF THE CONFERENCE.
40.1
rosjx>iisil)ility wliidi siwcs tiio wliilc I try to realiso it. I sliould he
uriijratet'ul iudeed if I wt^re not to express my sense of tlie kindness
of those whoso votes have placed me here. Althouijh I hnmbl'i myself
beforo God in the presence of my hrcthriMi, 1 feel tliat ever since He
called me into this ministry I iiave had one mark of discipleship I liave
loved the brethren. My heart has gone out after them with an ardour
which many waters could not quench. I have longed for their esteem
;is T have never longed for worldly treasure, and as a mark of your reganl
and confidence in me, this election of to-day is a trii)ute more precious
lliaii t.'old. Of my nianif(dd infirmities I feel a great deal more than I
shall say. But I remember a saying of one of my distinguished prede-
cessors in this office, that every office has its perquisites, and that the
perquisites of this particular office are the prayers of the brethren.
"... We have reason to be thankful for the position which God has
given us as a Church. I do not succeed to a diminished nor to an
endangered heritage. Wt are at peace among ourselves ; there is no
schism in our body ; we hold to the doctrines of our fathers, which are
also, we believe, the doctrines of the Word. We have the sacraments
validly administered. We have a godly discipline which we have power
to enforce. We have a Church order as effective as the most seemly, and
a Church life as vigorous as the most free. We have a material prosperity
unparalleled at any former period of our history, and, chiefest of all —
that without which all else would be valueless — the Ark is still in our
temples, and the Lord still visits us from on high.
"We are in no wise to lose sight of our work of saving souls : that is
nur chief mission, to which our charter and our covcTiant bind us. IJut
it seems to me that there are some errors which are now specially influen-
tial, and some truths now specially in danger. T am not sure that we
may not be called upon to make sturdy protest against the widespread
a.entatiou in Conference was a " coming event"
that '* cast its shadow before."
A scheme for organizing the Kingswood and Wood-
house Grove Schools uuder oue head wastei'ship,
1874- ]
THE OWSTON.FERRY CASE.
405
with the senior boys at Kings wood, was adopted.
Huch interest was shown in another scheme for
estabUshing a school of the highest class at Cam-
bridge, with Dr. Moulton as Head Master. This
proposal also rapidly passed into the list of things
accomplished.
During the session of the Conference much feeling
was aroused by a correspondence between a Wesleyan
minister, the Rev. Henry Keet, and the Bishop of
Lincoln. Mr. Keet having lost a daughter, sought
to place a tombstone over her grave in the church-
yard of Owston Ferry. The incumbent of the parish
refused to allow the erection of the stone unless the
words "Rev." and "Wesleyan Minister" were left
out.
The Bishop, on being appealed to, sustained the
incumbent in his action, and wrote largely and
learnedly, if not very wisely, on schism, ecclesiastical
orders, and the use of titles. The judgment of the
country upon the issue raised was practically unani-
mous. That the ground taken by the Bishop was
untenable at law, and in the highest possible degree
unnecessary and ill-judged, was admitted on all sides.
Steps were taken by the Conference to try the ques-
tion of the incumbent's right to revise an inscription
on a tombstone in the parish church-yard, and the
hot and angry feeling roused by the Bishop's ill-timed
bmily on schism subsided. But the incident is
historic, and will be remembered in connection with
the ecclesiastical and political developments of recent
years.
On the evening of Simday, August 2nd, Dr.
Piinshon preaclied his ofiicial sermon. He took for
if
400
IV. MORLKY PUNSHON.
[chap, xvr
his subject tlie latter part of the parable on the talents
— Matt. XXV. 20, 21. Long before the hour an-
nounced for Divine service the chapel was crowded,
and at half-past five the service began. The theme
of the discourse was " Fidelity and its reconipeuce."
He emphasized and pressed home the idea of the
Christian's responsibility to his Lord, the obligation
under which he is placed to be the follower, the
servant, and the witness of Christ. He showed
how that responsibility extended through the humble
details of common life, and could not discharge
itself in isolated and exceptional efforts. He urged
a consecration, not fitful and spasmodic, but abid-
ing — a sustained fidelity to God in daily life. He
showed how faithfulness is rewarded by increase
of strength, by promotion to ampler spiritual life,
with its increased responsibilities and enlarged oppor-
tunities of good. The sermon was at once fervent
and sober-minded, full of noble sentiment, yet
jiractical and homely from first to last. There was
less of glow and passion in the style than in former
years, but increased weight and seriousness, qualities
to which the varied experiences of life were constantly
bringing increase.
Journal.
" Au(ju.it ',iOt/i, 1874. — The Conference was united and happy. Tlw
religious services were eminently blessed. There was much freodom ot
discussion without acerbity, or imputation of motive. The conversjition
on tlie state of the work of God was profitable in a high degree. Least |
of all noteworthy things to the world, but with a significance very i)rc'ciini>
tome, the brethi-on by a decisive vote placed me in the chair. . . . Towanl-
Cod 1 am a sinner, and I ciust myself upon His mercy in Christ, but tinvanl>
tlie Metiiodist Conference I have ever been loyal. I was sustuiiiwl i"
much trembling, and tiu-ough some difficulties ; but, oh, what gnire 1 1
need, and how much of godly wisdom 1 The brethren begin the year
[chap. XVI
ii*7,S-]
LETTER TO MR. RWG/LL.
407
311 the talents
he hour aii-
was crowded,
The theme
recoiiipence."
3 idea of the
die obhgatiou
follower, the
He showed
h the humble
lot discharge
is. He urged
lie, but abid-
aily life. He
[ by increase
spiritual life,
iilarged oppor-
once fervent
ntiment, yet
There was
lan in former
iiess, qualities
ere constantly
ami happy. TIk
much freedom of
The coiivcrsiitioii
ligh (.legrce. LeiW |
cance very precitub j
lair. . . . Towanl
Christ, but tdwiinl- 1
was sustained i
oh, what gnicf
begiu the ywU' i
;;(i(P(l heart and hope. Death is also at work, Four ministers have ceased
tn live before the pul'Hcation of the Minutes. Oh, Thou Divine Father
and helper, succour and purify Thy child.
•• Si'ptember '11th. — Away from home for ten days of supposed holiday
(luring which I conducted six services, some under extreme difficulty.
Distressed by my increasing nervous difficulty in preaching. Trying liad,
to oust all upon God. I am summoned this year to a grccat heritage or
|iiv;icliing duty, and if He wills me to do it in weakness I must bow.
•■ Xomnber ]o7. — Closely engaged on the Hymn-Book Committee, and
kss pleasant disciplinary business during the week. Suffering from the
itfects of continuous sessions of eight or ten hours per day. Relieved by
tlie nature of the employment in the former cjise. Felt the reading of
miiny precious hymns a means of grace. Bewildered in thinking upon the
iiiiuiy seams in the visible robe of Christ. Thou must arise, O Lord, the
i>ifc ill the Truth, and all is well."
To Rev. Riciiakd Rid(;ill.
" November 1th, 1874.
•• Your kind letter of congi'atulation found me two days ago on a sick
k'll. This is tlie first time I have put pen to paper save to sign documents
which requircil my signature. ... I can iussure you that through all
ihiinges the memories of our early friendship have remained vivid and
strong. My first inquiry of every South African missionary is always,
•Do you know Brother Ridgill? ' and then follows the series of questions,
sometimes answered and sometimes not answered, about you and your
lit'loiigings.
"Yes! I remember those boyish ambitions after senatorial honours.
Hiuv marvellously Providence shapes our ends, and with what kindness
and wisdom the angles are smoothed down, and the curves rounded for us,
I am amazed at my position, and humbled to the dust under a sense of
unmerited favour.
" ISly work here suits me. I am getting a horror of large chapels and
lii,di pidpits, and desire to leave the crowds to younger men. My health
iijjeneral was improved by my residence in Canatiiit with the liiding of a holier life within."
JoUKNAL.
'' Ffbruarij 1th, 181'). — The Connexion has been suddenly plunged into
Bioiirning by the unexpected death of dear Mr. Wiseman on Wednesday
U^. MORLeV PUi^SHOi^.
[CHAP. XVI,
ml
evening. His ailment was not considered dangerou.s until he was dyinf;,
A prince and a great man is fallen in our Israel. I feel that I have lost
a friend.
" Febniary \^\th. — Mercifully sustained through the very painful servire
which officially devolved on me, to deliver the address at Mr. Wiseman s
funeral service. Had to leave for Chester immediately .afterwards. Much
subdued and solemnized by this sad event. May God guide in the future,
fo'- this bereavement may make my own future uncertain."
To Rev. Alfhkd Rkynau.
" February 13///, 1875.
" The sad loss we have sustained in the deatli of Mr. Wiseman lias
affected me so deeply that I have scarcely had heart for anything. He
:vas ^vit] us in Committee the week before his death, and seemed to have
: pr(;i;«i ...icion of it. He did not ' see death ' at all. His removal places
my fill'" 1 1 '.nccrtainty. There seems a general wish and expectation
thpt J should sui.ceel him at the Mission House, but I don't know yet
how it will be "".i^ Lord who has directed hitherto must still direct. . . .
Dea- 'itilt^ EUit : • -' is she ? Don't let her forget her grandfather. I
should sc i .u\[\ lit . ■'' ■":(■ her now. Perhaps the day may come, who
knows, when sh^ may iiguO up her grandpapa's old age. Moody ami
Sankey begin their London campaign in March. I wonder if they will
move London as they have moved Scotland and the provinces. There is
much prayer and expectation. We dined at Sam Waddy's last night,
and met Justice Lush and Dean Staidey."
Journal.
" February 21.s^ — Two days from home this week, and two more in
work in London. I long for that which I do not seem likely to get, quiet
and leisure for the study of God's Word, whose inner liarmonies seem to
me more wonderful as I grow old. ... A legislative measure in which
I once had a deep interest again brouglit forward and defeated this j
week.
" February 2%lh. — Solemnized and stimulated at Mr. Wiseman's funenil
sermon on Monday in City Road Chapel. Spoke at the Bible Mectini;
in Kensington in the evening, and for the rest of the week have been j
presiding in Committees — arduous and responsible work. Great question*
affecting the future of our Church have come under review. I trust our
deliberations have been wisely guided.
^^ March \Uh. — Another week of mercy, and the appreciation of itj
heightened by the sorrow which has SAvept over other homes. Mr.
Jenkins bereaved by tlie stroke of a sword like that which cleft my lionioj
asunder four years ago. It was a renewal of all my old sorrow. Mr. Sum j
Smith, of Sheffield, also taken suddenly to his rest. The Leys SclnKilj
.875-1
LETTER TO MR. REYNAR.
409
npcned at Cambridge, under fair auspices. Dear Percy goes to begin
work to morrow. The Lord God of my fathera bless the lad !
'•Aj'i'il ISth. — -From home for two Sundays, in Manchester working
ami in l^uxton resting. Have l)een marvellously sustained though the toil
and solicitude of my year of office. I feel tliat there are many prayers
rising on my behalf. So incessantly engaged that I hivve not been able to
attend any of Moody and Sankey's meetings, where I should have wished
to be present, if only to attest my sympathy with what, with some human
drawbacks, I believe to be a great work of God.
"Ajn-il25th. — Bereavement has come very near us in the unexpected
removal of dear, good Joseph Wood, one of my Circuit Stewards, a
plain, honest man who knew Whom he had believed, and who died
well.
" JA(// 9th. — The meetings this week exciting but blessed. Sustained in
my Monday's speech, which I had dreaded. Helped marvellously also in
the Bible Meeting on Wednesday. Surprised and humbled to receive a
letter from the Archbishop of Canterbury, thanking me for my address,
and saying he should deem it a misfortune if it were not published entire.
I am devoutly thankful if I was permitted to say anything which shall
bear fruit that may remain.
"June 27th. — Absent during the last fortnight in Sunderland, New-
astle, Carlisle, and Ireland. The Irish Conference, at which I have been
called to preside, passed off very pleasantly. Many critical matters have
arisen, but a good spirit has prevailed, and the Master has been with His
servants. I am cheered by the prospect of able, thoughtful young men
who are rising up in the Irish ministry. Skilled workmen are needed
there.
''Juli/ 11th. — The two or three last Sabbaths I have had a painful
return of my former trouble in the pulpit, which has much discouraged
me, though I feel, after all, power to trust myself in the Lord's hands.
Have occasion to write reproachfully of myself for hasty speaking during
the week. May God give me full and constant self-control."
appreciation of itj
ther homes. Mr.
To Rkv. Ai.iuki) Rkynak.
"J7t?y 18. XVI.
iRilioIdiiig, into its likoiioHs. Duai'littlc Ellie ! Give my own dour low.
I loiij,' to see tlie dear cliild. May her mother's God bo her portion and
defence."
Tlie Conference of 1875, which was held in
Sheffield, brought Dr. Punshon's year of office to
a close, and gave him welcome release from its
cares and labours. It was a great joy to him that
he was succeeded in the Presidency by his frieud
Gervase Smith. One important duty still remained
to be discharged, and that accomplished, he was,
comparatively a free man. On the 4tli of August
he delivered his charge to the newly-ordaiued
ministers, in the presence of an immense congrega-
tion. It was founded upon Acts xx. 28, " Take
heed, therefore, unto yourselves, and to all the flock
over the which the Holy Ghost hath made you
overseers." The strain throughout was practical
and hortatory, full of sympathy with those whom
he addressed, whose hopes and fears, and possibilities
of success or failure he well understood, aud
animated by an unfaltering confidence in the gospel
as God's best gift to man, and the sufficient remedy
for all his woes. An extract or two will show with
what earnestness he pressed faithful counsels on bis |
younger brethren : —
" You will have your share in the common temptations which boguilt
unwary souls. . . . These will beset you as they beset ordinary men : luit ]
you will have special temptations from your office and duties which thiv
can neither share nor understand. Elation often waits upon appiirtml
success, and despondency upon the late or scanty appearing' "f tliu
scattered seed. If your work is easy to you, you will be tcmpt'ilj
to be indolent ; if it is difficult, you may sink boneatli it in unwortliyj
ai)athy, or vainglorit)usly overcome it in equally unworthy piiilf
You will, perhaps, have to labour where you can discover few con-
genial spirits, and more to hinder than to help. You will have to (It'iilJ
i?;5.1
ORDIMA TION CM A RGE.
4"
witli vvuak men, iind narrow raon, and timid moii, and sensitive men.
Ymi will be subject to misconstruction, and neglect, and opposition, and.
It may be, to slander. And amid all these difficulties you are called
to show all the Christian graces ; not to be contemptuous in your strength,
nor to make your liberty an occjusion of another's bondage, nor to vaunt
voiir courage, nor to fail for an instant in your meekness of wisdom.
Tempted from without and from within, with peril in the heart and
[iiril in the office, with danger lurking in the neighbourhood of duty,
tivmltling beneath your own sense of insufficiency, wearied in spirit from
ilie very 'greatness of the way'— nothing can save you but a healthy
inwiinl life, a near dwelling under the shadow of the mercy-seat, a close,
constant, strengthening walk with God. Oh, for the perfect moral calm-
niNS which only complete trust and complete surrender can give ! ' The
prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in Me,' — so said our Divine
Example. Satan will not lift the latch unless there be some faint
invitation through the window. Aim at this complete separation from
evil. You must be pure if you would be strong. Cultivate all holiness
if tiesh and spirit. Have a care that none, because of you, shall abhor
thi' offering of the Lord, and that you be not overtaken, like David, the
aL",'ravation of whose guilt was that it made ' the enemies of the Lord to
hlnsphenie.' For your own sakes, that you may finish your course with
■iiy: for the Church's sake, that your lives may be your most powerful
lii'course ; for Christ's sake, that you may be stars in His right hand —
[charge you ' keep your hearts with all diligence, for out of them are the
;>sues of life.' "
On the maintenance of *' sound doctrine " lie spoke
as follows : —
'■ It has been matter of thankful rejoicing that no doctrinal controversies
bvo weakened or disturbed us during the century of our separate exist-
I rtice. We ask of you that you will not ' make this gh)rying void.' In the
lame of your fathers who commit to you this trust untarnished, in the
uiiiuu of the Churches which your hci'csy might alienate or injure, in the
I name of the Methodist people to whom tlie manna of the old Word is s wee'
nni who ask with strong desire ' evermore give us this bread,' I counsel
I }''U to ' hold fast,' that you may ' hold forth ' tliis ancient Word of life.
It is the more necessary that you should be settled in your faith, because
'*f tiie general unsettlement around you. Though I thankfully acknow-
l;'e that the great heart of England still hungei's for the living truth,
Mil tiiat there is a music in the nanu; of Jesus to which the masses are fain
|l"hstuii ; yet it is impossible to forget that the current thought of to-day
i* tending towards unbelief, and that we may have fallen upon times when
I many ' will not endure sound doctrine, but gather to themselves teachers,
4tt
W. MO R LEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. XVI.
having itching cars.' The old adversaries are still in the field, and there
are others, more to be dreaded, who fight against the truth while they iire
clad in the armour of the true. . . .
" Brethren, it is needful that you be strong in faith yourselves, that you
have a firm grasp of ' the faith once delivered to the saints,' if you are to
grapple with the difficulties of your position, and become wise winners (if
souls. If you falter or hesitate, or fence the truth about with ydur
reserves and your misgivings, like an Agag who 'comes delicately,' what
impression are you likely to make upon your hearers ? Men's op'nmm are
but as the threads of the gossamer. Men's conrictionH are the powers that
shake the world. You have no vantage-ground in dealing with many-
sided error but in an honest and thorough confidence in the truth. Men
declaim foolishly enough about dogmatic teaching. You must dogmatise
when men are dying, and you are sent to them with ' the words of eternal
life.' On minor matters, indeed, of taste, or criticism, or even of suhor-
dinate truth, you may hold your conclusion with deference, and avow it
with modesty ; but on the questions that press close upon eternity— (m
man's need and God's grace, on Christ's atonement and the siimer's pardon,
on the Spirit's work and the believer's growth — on these tiiere must be no
room for hesitation or misgiving."
The vacancy in the Missionary Secretaryship,
caused by the death of Mr. Wiseman, was filled by the
appointment of Dr. Punshon. His qualifications for
the office were conspicuous. From the very beginning
of his ministry the cause of missions had lain near his
heart. The advocacy of missions he regarded, not as
a something additional to his vocation as a preacher
of the Gospel, but as an essential part of it, without
which there would be no proportion or completeness
in his ministry. For nearly thirty years he had held
a foremost place among missionary speakers, and uo
man in the home ministry had done more to urge and
educate the conscience of the Church on the subject|
of its duty toward Christ and toward the nations,!
His many journeys on the continent of Europe hadj
brought him into contact with the chief forms of|
modern Christian and anti-Christian life, and made
[CHAP. XVI. ■ iSr.sl APPOINTRD MISSIONARY SKCRKTARY. 413
him acquainted with missionary work and workers of
almost every kind. On the still wider field of the
American continent he had followed the footsteps of
the missionary, and studied the methods and the
results of his work, botU amongst the heathen and in
communities recently brought within the Christian
fold. All this was an invaluable preparation for the
position he was now called to occupy in the admini-
stration of a great Missionary Society, while his
natural gifts for dealing with men and directing
affairs — so necessary in the ofhce he was assuming
—were trained by large experience to the highest
efficiency. He was appointed by a practically unani-
mous vote of the CoTiference, aiul with the hearty
iipproval of the whole Coimexion.
The office of Missionary Secretary, which Dr.
Pimshon held for the remainder of his life, was the
fitting climax of his life's work. The qualities that
he brought to its duties have been already shown ;
but they will receive further illustration from the
testimony of one who was closely associated with
him, and had the best means of judging of the spirit
ill which he approached his work, and the ability with
which he performed it.
The liev. E. E. Jenkins, his colleague at the
Mission House, writes as follows : —
10 field, and there
ith while they arc
mrselvcs, that you
QtH,' if you are to
le wiao winners nf
about with your
18 deliciitely,' wlml
Men's ojiinioiiH are
re the powers that
Hilling with many-
11 the truth. Men
ou mnut dogmatise
lie words of eturual
, or even of sulwr-
erence, and avow it
I upon eternity— on
the sinner's pardon,
so tJicre must l)e iw
Secretaryship,
as filled by the
Jifications for
ery beginning
,d lain near his
garded, not as
as a preacher
of it, without
completeness
■s he had held
leakers, and 110
ire to urge and
on the subject
Id the uatioiis.
of Europe hiidj
[chief forms of
ife, and madel
Dk. PuNSIION A.S A C()l,M;Afii;K.
"My knowledge of Dr. Punshon was enlarged and became more pre-
Icise after I was called to sluire with him and otlier brethren the lalxiura
of the Mission House. My previous acquaintance had never attained
intimacy. I had seen him from the distance oidy ; for during the time
when men thirst for friendship and have leisure to be friends, our lot
was cast in fields remote from each other. His fame travelled to
India; and I had a glimpse of the brilliancy of his end«WTOents during
4'4
W. MORLEY PUNS HON.
[chap. XVI.
my lir'u'f visit to Kn),'liiii(l in IMf)*'). My iinitrcHsioii (if Imn |m»wiim was
tlirii, iiinl I'oi' yi'iirs iil'tcr, iin itiiifi'iiriilt^ oiii!. 'I'lior*' vvci'ii tiilciit^ uml
quiiiiticR whirJi I liiid not stiitn ; tlnMr lionu^ was in tho lMic,k<,'rc.iiii(| nf
the cliiinictcr, wlicid tlio Inist j^il'ts n'siilo. 1 had Hiinply liarncil what
«!Vrrylio(ly knew, tliat (iod iiad j^ivi^n to Mftliodisiii an orator miil a
uian 'mighty in the scriptiiruH." Tho opportunities of moutiii^; him ii>
Confcronco and on CominittceH gave nio a nearer and, therefore, a tru.
view of the man. 1 discovered that he wiw well nigh as strong in coiinw,
as in sp(H'eh. In administration he did not ajtpear to wK-k distiin'tidn ;
but wlien its tasks wei'e eiiti'usted to him, he a('.oom|)lished them with su
easy a mastery of the conditions of success that it seemed as if the niiiuiti'
divisions and complications of business were as mucli under the spell of his
genius as the resources and embellishments of onitory.
" It was in the Mission House, however, in the near associatioim nf
mutual responsibilities and anxieties that I was able to complete tln'
estimate, and in my own mind to perfect the image of one of the gnatist
men it has been my piivilego to know. As his powers were ese inoi'e attnictivi'
applause. He was
X the luxuries
of admin istrat'
iislion, but he wan
and not the slavo.
n the rivalries -\\\\
vill, and diligently
prevail, but when
of his wishes was
behind it. In tlif
>f the burden was
it oppressive. It
lu feared not tlw
-ro he forgot tlif
[1 descending fmni
livinity tt) finamv,
forsook hira. At
as the state of the |
utely necessary to
ihis step was un-
inevitable. This
Punslion felt tlie|
Jeputy Treasurii.
they drew after]
iliin). lie assumed. iM>rhai)s nneonseiously, that there was no division of
ris|MPiisil>ility, and lie toiled and fictted as if he \vei<' (lie sole oei 'ipant of
ihi' (li'pai'tnient. He was sensitive to public critic-ism, even when it was
irrelevant and unjust, but whatever threatened to liarass and dishearten
iiiii' missionaries touched him far more sharply. Ilelivi^d in the work of
thiHc brethren. A far-reaching sympathy made him the companion of
Jill he had never known, and a partaker in labouis lie had never seen.
Hf watched the good fight of ('hrist on tlie fields of heathenism, not only
with enthusiasm and anxiety, but with a sensi; of conflict as if himself in
liio battle. He was thus in the midst of two struggles. He was in the
ijistaiit and glorious strife of the Faith, and he was in the near and
worrying strife of administration ; and the double contest exhausted ami
hiistoned the fall of this greivt and noble soldier."
CHAPTEli XVII.
1875-1877.
LONDON: MISSION HOUSE. Aged 51 to 53.
Letter to Rev. R. Ridgill. — .Journal. — Nottingham Conference. — Lay-
representation. — Settles at Tranhif. — Love of Life. — A Railway Porter's
Dream. — Death of Rev. G.T. Perks. — Estimate of his Character. — Tribute
to Dr. Waddy's Memory. — Memorial Sketch of Rev. James Parsons. -
Letters to Friends. — Addres.s : Oxford under two Queem.
On leaving the Conference at Sheffield, which had
released him from the cares of the presidency, and
appointed him to the office of Missionary Secretary,
Dr. Punshon paid his annual visit to Llandudno.
He wrote to Mr. Keynar : —
" Li.AxnuDNO, August ISth, 1875.
" We finished Conference on Friday night, and on Saturday the Pre-
sident and his wife, and I and mine, came to this delightful place, where i
we hope to stay for a fortnight. We have had an exciting Conference,
and in some respects an eventful one. Lay-representation, and the
political action which a Methodist preacher is authorised to take— you
will, I dare say, see our discussions on these matters and their issue. Mv
own heart is moved by what I fear as to the future of Methodism ; but I
the Lord reigneth, and He, if He need us, will preserve us. Gervase]
made an admirable President, and guided the sometimes unruly mass with
much tact and skill. His health makes me anxious."
Journal.
" September 5th. — Those oc/!asions at Conference to which I looked for-
ward with trembling, almost with dread, wei-e overruled by the sustaining |
grace of God, and I delivered my serrooa ancl wy charge with free<}o»i j
I875-]
LETTER TO MR. RIDGILL.
4'7
My dear friend, Gervase Smith, was elected my successor, and he deported
himself right skilfully, much to mj' unselfish rejoicing. Many critical
matters were discussed with unfailing good temper. Some tendencies are
rather perilous, but I trust in the overruling of Providence. . . . Enjoyed
a fortnight in Wales, though I preached too often to call it absolute rest.
Good dear Mr. Prest called home while we were there. I esteemed him
highly for manliness and strength. During the Conference also dear Mrs.
Foster's sufferings were terminated by a peaceful dismissal. It was during
my absence at her funeral that I was elected to the Missionary Secretary-
ship by 346 votes. Thus life's mixed web is woven."
rZ 51 to 53.
m Conference.— Lay-
—A Railway Porter's
8 Character.— Tribute
BV. James Parsons. -
ield, which had
presidency, and
)nary Secretary,
landudno.
, Auqmi 18iiffered seriously from bronchial cough, and have longed oftentimes for
Irtst.
••June. Wth. — Another breach in our ranks since my last entry, by the
liatli of Mr. Romilly Hall, a valuable servant of Christ, with peculiarities
lilt unfitted him to exercise a wIuhoihi'. as well as a wide influence, but one
h'lwhonilfeel especially grateful, for his early ministry was greatly owned
r'f God in arousing my spirit, and confirniiug my youthful resolves.
hustained through much weakness in the North Wales District Meeting,
lisd in the most important committees of this week, over which (my friend
lie President still resting) I liave been civlled to preside. The consensus
I'f feeling and sentiment wonderful. I suppose the moral power attend-
ing these deliberations will tell upon the decisions of Conference. It is
y&iijiKritiipntinn rrnrix, but I trust it is wise and safe. May God bless otir
Iffurts, and guide us with Divine wisdom, for we shall need it. It will be
420
TV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. xvn.
a glorious triumph for our Church if wo pass through so grejit a crisis in
peace
'■^ July Ibth. — A distressing attack this morning wliich mjule niv ixst
sermon in Warwick Gardens a labour and a struggle. Thought I should
not have been able to preach, but the Lord brought me througli. This
trouble occurring so frequently on Sundays is very mysterious. I wonder
if I ought to take it as an intimation that my preaching work is nearly
over. Met Mr. Gladstone at Mr. Newman Hall's on Wednesday, where
were gathered also some fifty leading Nonconformist ministers and lav-
men. The talk was mainly of disestablishment. He is wonderfully
versatile as well as accurate. Met several other members of Parliament
on Friday, including Sir Wilfred Lawson, Mr. Stansfeld, and Professor
Fawcett. More interested, though the interest of these meetings was I
great, by being called to unveil an obelisk at Kilburn, erected to the i
memory of my dear friend Whelpton.
^^ July BO. XVII.
■m
of an amendment. Mr. Arthur embodied his views in an exhaustive
paper. Rigg, Bate, Perks, James, Gregory, Olver and myself did thii
speaking on the other side. Tlie speeches of Perks, Gregory, and
especially of Olver, were masterly. God helped me to say what I wished,
and to suppress what I should have been sorry for, althougli the effort
was great and was followed by much phymcrl weakness. The principlu
was affirmed by 309 votes against 49, a result for which I am devoutly
thankful."
During his first year of office at the Mission House,
Dr. Punshon continued to reside at Kensington, and
preached at Warwick Gardens as frequently as other
duties would allow. In the meantime, he was look-
ing out for a house that might be a permanent home,
now that he was released from the necessity of|
removing every three years. While so engaged he
experienced most of the annoyances and disappoint-
ments incidental to such a quest. In March 1876 he!
writes : —
"We spend our spare time in house-hunting, and find it weary work.'j
Three months later he says : —
" Yesterday I agreed to purchase Mr. Boyce's house, Trunhy Ln}f\
Brixton. I got quite sickened with weary searchings for a place whereia!
to put myself ; and although there are some things lacking in it, I ami
ghid to have the matter settled, and must forthwith bend any energies II
have to make it as comfortable as possible."
The process of settlement was, as is common
such cases, a long one. The course of house fitting
and furnishing seldom runs smooth. Cares, hal^
amusing, half vexatious, seem inevitable. They are
hinted at in the Journal.
" There seems but little of honest punctual work done now-a-day^
Led into rather unprofitable speculations as to the little influence tli^
gospel seems to have on life.''
It was probably the plumber's man who furnishe^
the starting point for these painful speculations.
1876.]
ms mnv noMK.
427
find it weary work;
But even in these matters the end conies at hist,
and when the new home was complete, it was, and
continued to be, a pleasant and much prized pos-
session.
JoUKNAr..
'• Sqitfijuber llth, IHTC).— My first Sabbatli in Tranhi/. Thanks to the
great name of the Lord, who has led me all my life long until now. I
would renew my covenant, and erect my altar on taking possession of my
new liome. Lord, save me from any possible evil, from the sense of
elation, from being at ease in my possessions, from over-anxiety, from
extravagance, from sloth, from any tendency to distrust or forget Thy
providence.
" Bless our home, and if it please Thee, give us health to enjoy it, and
to work for Thee.
'• Spptemher 2H;v/. — My anniversary, upon which I cannot yet think
without a pang. I have lived over again the shock, the complicated and
unutterable agony of six years ago. God has surrounded me with many
mercies, for which I praise Him, but there is a quick trouble as I recall
the incidents of that great mystery of sorrow. May God sanctify me
wholly, by any means. I think I can heartily pray that prayer, though
the ' If it be possible ' of the garden-supplication still trembles from the
lips.
" October int. — Have been during this week in an atmosphere not the
most favourable for spiritual life. On Thursday and Friday I was in
attendance on the Sheriff as his Chaplain, and introduced to some of the
customs and gaieties of civic life. They are worth a study, but it would
fare ill with me if my life were spent in the midst of them. At the
banquet in Baker's Hall had some interesting conversation with the
Ordinary of Newgate, on prison discipline and reformatory work "
During the next few months the Journal records
much hard wo \ — not accomplished without weari-
ness and pain — domestic anxieties, and the death of
several friends, Dr. Waddy, Mr. George Moore, Mr.
S. B. Hodge, Dr. Stamp, and others. He was often
much cast down, but never long together without
consolation and quickening. He was now a frequent
hearer of other men's ministry, and took to himself
sincerely and simply whatever of exhortation or
m
4»8
ir. MORLEY PUNSnOM.
[c HAP. XVII.
encouragement tlioir preacjliing afforded. He refers to
*' a seareliing, liumbling sermon from Mr. Osboru, on
confessing Christ" ; and again, "Was lovingly re-
buked this morning in an exquisite discourse from
Dr. Gregory, on tlie Labourers in the vineyard."
In December he was laid aside.
JoUKNAI-.
'■^ Dev.emhev \Hh, 1H7(!. — Sliorlly after I luul written tho liust entry, my
tliroat beyan to l)lec(l, and I have l)Ocn a prisoner for the week. It was n
merciful cliastening, a suniniona to come apart into a quiet place, and rest
awhile ; but it awakened me in many and not unprofitalde thoughts.
Would that Home master in Israel would settle for me whether this warm
love of life is sinful. I am always tryinjf myself by the test, ' Would you
be willing to die now ' V and as I cannot truthfully sjiy that I could pre-
serve an absolute balance of will, I come into a .sort of condemnation.
But if it was to be so, I think I can trust for the needful grace. I know
not how much the body influences the mind, . . . but the Lord will
make all these things right in His time.''
It is easy to say of this frequently-recurring con-
flict with himself, that it denoted a morbid condition
of mind. But there is in these matters no fixed
standard of healthy thought and feeling. Men are
differently affected by different aspects of " life,
death, and that vast for ever." The cast of mind,
and the habit of the mind's close partner the body,
largely determine the range and quality of religions
emotion. With the majority of persons the mysf
of death is, as it were, taken for granted
dismissed. It lies over ; and meantime doe jt pu
upon or overshadow life. But there are tuose wlio
cannot thus dismiss the subject. It pursues ; id
haunts. It awes the soul with deep, vague sugges-
tions that cannot be reduced to language, or sub-
mitted to the logical understanding. No length of
■877.]
youRNAi:.
429
familiarity breeds conteiript. Solemn, pathetic,
lieart-moviug, — the thouglit of death ministers life-
long chastening. It was so in Morley Piinshon's
rase, a part of the whole discipline by which his
character was moulded, and from which he was only
released in the presence of death. Face to face with
it all fear was gone. Its power was spent ; it had
no more that it could do.
JoUllNAI,.
•' ''vhmary 1.0///, 1877. — Two things may be recorded that have happened
my.^ the last entry ; the one, my presentation at Court, which has
frightened and humbled me not a little. Now that it is over, T look back
upon it with no elation, but with thankfulness that, without stifling my
convictions, or sailing under false colours, I have been thus honoured. It
was a great trial of nerve and patience. The other I record without com-
ment. Some fifteen years ago a lady from Brighton entered into conver-
sation with a porter at Paddington Station. She found him to be a
Christian man. His conversion, he told her, was brought about by a dream,
ill which he fancied him.self walking listlessly about London on the Sun-
day. Passing a chapel, and attracted by the singing, he entered, saw a
minister in the pulpit, a minister whose face, tones, etc., impressed them-
selves on his memory. On waking, the dream haunted him. Some time
after, when he had banished it from his mind, he Wfus strolling aimlessly
one Sunday, when the sound of singing from a certain chapel brought it
vividly back to him. He went into the chapel, found it as he had dreamt
of it, recognised the minister who was preaching as the one he had seen
in his dream, was touched by the word, and became a new man. That
ninister was myself.
"F'T -uitry 25th.— A bad broncliial attack during the week, occasioned
y preaching in an unfinished chapel. Depressed in spirit. Helped,
in pain, to go through several engagements, but have had to give up
lat were due next week. Hope to stivrt for Italy, if it be God's
« II Saturday, at once to visit the Churches, and to seek a little rest in
change of employment. Dr. Wood of Southport gone. Very few of that
generation remain.
" April Sth.— l 'lave to record the preserving care of my Heavenly Father,
who has kept ou uty in he.ilfch and safety during five weeks of constant
travel. I prear' ' in Paris and in Rome, and saw something of our work
inSpezia, Bo' and Padua, giving, moreover, two or three addresses
which Mr, Vi^- interpreted. I have been much interested with the
4.50
TV. MO R LEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. xvn.
efforts that are being made to resciio Italy for Christ ; but jircssiHl in
spirit on account of thi; abounding ungodliness and superstition. 1 L^omu
homo with a sense of gratitude for clearer light and greater priviUij^'o, and
of shame for not being a braver and purer witness for my I^ord. No
fewer than seven ministers have been called away since I left home. The
day wanes, and there is much work to be done."
Dr. Punslion's missionary speeches in these later
years differed considerably from his earlier ones. He
now dealt, as might be expected, far more closely
with the details of missionary work, and the state
of the Society's operations. He had, moreover, a
diminishing inclination for great efforts of public
speaking. He said, not unfrequently, " I leave those
to younger men." He was no longer equal to the
physical and nervous strain, and a quieter, less am-
bitious style was more in harmony with his sobeifl
mind, and somewhat care-worn spirit. But if there
was loss in oratorio force and vividness, there w;is
gain in depth and maturity. There was always that
which charmed, but there was in increasing measure
that which brought the claims of Christ home to the
conscience, and afforded clear views of personal and
immediate duty. At the anniversary meetings of the
Society, he seldom made " collection speeches," as he
had been used to do ; but he contributed an element
quite as important, and, even in respect of popularity,
almost as effective. He prepared and read the Eeport.
He invested it with a brightness of style, and de-
livered it with an elocutionary power that made it
an oration in itself. It was as though the old
instinct, denied its customary modes of expression,
found its opportunity here, and lifted to its own
height of feeling and of style what had hitherto been
a mere prosaic statement.
m\
IS77.I
PKA 7H OF MR. PERKS.
43 »
JOUKNAI..
•'Juno '2>h1, 1H77. — How little T thought of the f^rcat sorrow wiiioh this
week would bring. Doar, good Mr. Porks, a i^olloague and hiothor l)e-
loveil, removed suddenly homo on Monday. He died at Rothorhani,
whither he had gone to preach missionary sermons, apparently in his usual
hciilth. The Lord cannot err, but the reason of this mysterious event
must be left for the revelation of the hereafter to explain. Within two
viiirs from the time of my appointment, I am senior Secretary. New
R'sponsibilities come upon me such as I am ill able to bear. My (rod, be
my helper, and strength, and present help in trouble.
'•Juiw lOth. — This week has been like a long, sad dream. I go down
expecting to hear the familiar voice, and awake sadly to the sense of loss,
Tlie responsibilities of the new department are onerous, but we must trust
until, aye and after, the Conference.
• Jttlj/ W. — The Lord's smiting still continues. G. C. Harvard suddeidy
I taicen at midnight on Wednesday. Thus three who took part in the
ilebate of last Conference have met where there is no division of opinion,
land where they see at once the King in His beauty, and eye to eye with
I (Jill other. I fear sometimes lest the effect of these repeated sti'okes
>h(iuld be otherwise than good upon me. My memory of Mr. Harvard
<;iddened by the thought of a momentary mistrust of endi other, fully
txplaiiied and atoned for, however, I rejoice to think."
It fell to Dr. Puiishou's lot to prepare for the Coii-
Ifeieuce the obituary record of his friend and colleague.
It was a labour of love, executed with great care, and
|aiine apprecir.,tion of Mr. Perks's character, as will
k seen from the following extracts.
"He had lofty conceptions of the attainments required for the ministry,
1 3 view of the claims of the Church and of the times, and so laid the
Inundations of his knowledge broadly, availing himsolF of every facility
jfitliia his reach, to acquaint himself with any subjoct that migiit l)ear
l';poii the work of his life. Philosophy and eoclesiastii'al history, espocially
I'ere congenial studies. His early discipline in the former he used with
IjKxleft'ect, both in his ministry and in his writings ; omitting no (ipjxir-
pnity of exposing the fallacies of certain modern philosophical principles
liitli conflict with the word of (irod. But he particularly applied himself
Inhe science of theology in all its branches. He afforded noble examples
strict dogmatic teaching, and was never weary of defending systematic
»l(i),'y against the attacks of those who undervalue it. Thus he became
I'tll furnished for all recpiired service, and wont far to realise his own
432
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAI'. XVII.
ideal of a minister of the Lord Jesus, His great love of Scripture grew
with his growth ; and as his sermons glowed with its spirit, and his public
prayers were steeped in its language, it became a peculiar element of
power in his ministry. Hence, though he had no lack of apt and happy
words in which to give forth the weighty thoughts of God that were
within him, his quotations were frequent and powerful. He wielded ' the
sword of the Spirit ' mightily, for he knew that, as David said of the sword
of Goliath, ' there is none like that.' . . .
" He possessed a singularly well-balanced character, and displayed in
harmonious combination qualities which are not often found together.
He was catholic in his sympathies, yet unswervingly loyal to the Church
of his choice. He was wise in counsel, tolerant of the views of others,
manly in his independence, diffident almost to a fault, never desiring ' the |
uppermost room,' but always ready, if called thither, to comport him.self
worthily and well. He had a delicate sensibility that shrank from giving
pain, but a conscientiousness, equally delicate, which gjive him the moral!
courage for difficult duty. In all the relations of home life faithful and I
tender, in all the relations of ministerial life circumspect and able, judici-
ous, godly, a lover of good men and of the truth, — it was no wonder that)
his brethren loved and trusted him ; and drew largely upon him for special}
and distinguished service. . . .
" The best years of his life were given to the interests of the Wesleyau|
Missionary Society, and he devoted to it the vigour of his masculine un-
derstanding, and the wealth of sympathy that dwelt in his generous soulj
By judicious counsel and by eloquent advocacy, by prudent enterprise and
by unfailing zeal, he served the gospel of the kingdom in this its broadesi
sphere of proclamation."
This delineation of Mr. Perks's life and charactel
was listened to by the Conference in solemn silenceJ
and with deep emotion. It was characteristic o^
Dr. Punshon to fasten with sympathetic insight ani]
honest admiration upon the good qualities of gooci
men. It was never his habit to take a character,
it were, in the lump ; he cook pleasure in the detail
of men's excellencies, and would dwell upon tliei
with generous appreciation.
At the same Conference, when the name of Di
Waddy was read among those of ministers who ha
died during the year, Dr. Punshon spoke of his obi
.877.]
CHARACTER OF MR. PERKS.
433
gations to him during the early part of his ministry.
To his thinking, Dr. Waddy was one of the greatest
men of modern times. There were many points in
his character tliat tended to make him a pattern for
young ministers, such as perfect transparency, and
unalloyed sincerity. In all his dealings there was
chivalrous honour. As to his commanding ministry,
he never expected to see any one at whose feet he
would more willingly sit. He could not describe the
effect that it had upon him. " Strong without rage,
without o'erflowing full," — he always appeared to have
perfect mastery of himself, and as perfect a mastery
over the thoughtful among his congregations. And
I the grasp which he had of the great Christian verities,
aud the pains he took to carry his people along with
him into the higher regions of Divine truth, — and how
thoroughly he seemed at home when breathing the
pure air of those high places ! He thanked God
that he ever knew him ; and he trusted that many
might be raised up who, if not equally gifted, might
1)8 similarly consecrated, and exert a like command-
|iug influence in the Methodist ministry.
Jot itXAi..
'^August 19th. — Returned home yesterday from Bristol, where I was
lietained a week after the close of the Conference by a carbuncle, which
lausud me severe pain, and lias left me as weak as a child. Tlie old frctf ul-
|aessiitthe idea of possible danger ; tlie old love of life struygliMg up ; the
H difficulty of row^^/f'tc surrender without an anxious or a rebel thought.
End, Jesus, end this war within.'
"Tlie C<»nference passed off, on tlie whole, well. Messrs. Jenkins and
|M. C. Osborn elected to be my colleagues. I trust we shall all work
li'igetlier harmonioasiy and well for i,he ^Master's glory. It shall not bo my
haiilt it' we do not. The lay-represontation matter passed through the
ICuiifuiunce satisfactorily, and I trust I helped towards it. Some violent
Ijfsilf willed laymen are aggrieved, but I think the moderate laity will
|itwpt the scheme. I am thankful that a change so gi'eat has been effected
28
434
IV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XVII.
with HO much cjilmness and good feeling. David Hiiy died during the |
Confercnco.
" SepU'iitbrr 2Hn/. — An anniversary — my saddest and most mystuhnus. I
My thoughts yet dwell upon the marvel of seven years ago, with an utter
incapacity to comprehend it, and with as tender a memory, but with deepir
patience and trust, and with a more abounding tliankfulness for prcsim
mercies. Bereft in a minor, but still painful, degree by the departui-e of my 1
dear friend Gervase Smith and his wife for Australia. He goes as tlio
messenger of the Churches. May God have them in His keeping, restrain
tlic winds and waves, give them all the travellers' mercies, prosper tlmr |
mission, and bring them back strong for service for many years to comt.
^'■October 2Hth. — Have preached this morning under a heavy influent, I
and almost shrink from work and travel on the morrow. James Parscms
taken home in his 79th year, a man to whom I owe much, and wlinnill
loved much. His has been a beautiful life, and an eminently successful j
ministry.
In the liecorder of October 20tli Dr. Punslioul
paid the following tribute to the memory of Mr,
Parsons : —
" Witli many physical disadvantages, with a feeble voice, and an utteraiuej
which was a strange blending of liesitation and rapidity, witli no gcstiiiel
save tlie measured and impressive lifting of the liaiid, lie was yet in liiJ
prime one of the most populai' preachers of the day. And his poi)ul;irityj
was legitimately earned, for it was secured without compromise he judged by actual usefulness, his wasan eminent sucav
He was always faithful to the old gospel. His soul went not ont afttj
the dainties witii whicii some men sugar the truth ; and by his fwiilt^i
and faithful ' manifestation," lie ' commended himself to every man's cfnij
science in the sight of God.' Witli strong convictions, wliicli on fittiiJ
occasions he did not hesitate to declare, he had a catholic spirit, an ovtif
[chap. XVII. !
y died during the I
1 most niystL-rimb,
! ago, with an utter
ry, but with ikepur
fulness for presint |
ihc departure of my
11. He goes as thu]
lis keeping, restrain
ercies, prosper tliiir 1
my years to come.
r a lieavy influciix-i. 1
3W. James Pai-Sdiisj
much, and whom 1 1
eminently successful
Dr. PunslioEl
emory of Mr.
oice, andanutteraiuej
^lity, with no gcstiire|
id, he was yet in liu
And his poi)ul:int}j
compromise <>f lliiil
)f tlie consciencL'
pell-bound coMgrei:,!-
ce ; some late cmiitt
it in the gallery, lnH
)od, by the glance
reached, to hear t^
le congi-egation, helil
itnessed a scene lik«
tlu! occiision. . . . Ii
;)dels of honiiletii-
of originality ; Imi
'aul or John. .
san eminent suceH
went not ou*^^ afltj
; antl by his k'xh
to every man's cod
ns, which on fittin
,holic spirit, an ovt
1877-]
£>AC£ INING HE A L TIf.
4.35
howing brotherliness, the courtesy of a Christian gentleman, and a large-
hearted sympathy with all that was lovely and of good report. He lived
long enough to gather to himself ' honour, love, obedience, ti'oops of
friends.' Multitudes will hold his memory sacred, to whom he never knew
that he had been a benefactor, and so long as any of the generation linger
I [II which he was such a wealthy blessing, the name of James Pai'sons will
.remembered as that of one of the most impressive of preachers and most
I lovable of men."
JOUKNAL.
" Dffcmhcr "I'^td. — On Sunday evening last I preaclied in Dr. Alloii s
Btw cliurch to a vast multitude of people, numbering over thi-ee thousand.
I I was frightened and excited, but upheld. Three e.xciting services in the
[irovinces since, so it has been a week of heavy labour.
"December 30th. — A very happy Christmas Day, all my family round
ime, and in fair health. Have been very poorly since, and am haunted to-
liiy with a great dread similar to that which oppressed me four years ago.
IBut He who delivered me then Cim deliver again, if it bo His will, and if
I not. can help me to endure."
It will be observed that the references to ill-health
laud to nervous fears and distresses, are increasingly
Inumerous. During these later years there was
prdly a day without its bodily discomforts or mental
Idepression. Not that he was thereby incapacitated
Ik work, or that there was no happiness for him in
iHs home life. This was far from being the case.
iBut the elasticity and superabounding energy of
p'mer days were gone, and nothing could restore
peoi. Physically, he was reaping what he had
pvn, gathering a harvest of weariness and pain from
klie prodigal expenditure of himself in former years,
piiuething of this was apparent to every one, but
k'itlier himself nor those who watched him most
■losely knew how complete was the imdermining of
[lis health, or with what steady course his vital powers
l^ere deteriorating.
Meantime he laboured strenuously at the duties
4J6
W. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. xvn.
of his office, and during the year preached between
seventy and eighty times, lectured eleven times, and
addressed upwards of fifty meetings. He also took
considerable part in the management of the Iiecori(,r\
newspaper, frequently contributing leading articles.
The letters of the year, other than those of an]
official character, were not very numerous. A few!
extracts may be given.
To Rev. W. Hiust.
" January 2nd, 1877.
(Having ordered some coals for Mr. Hirst.)
" They asked me how I liked the coals. In reply I said they were good!
coals but hard to break. The letter this morning tells me, ' You willl
notice that, like wood, it has a very decided grain, and if the point of al
sharp pick be driven into it parallel with the lines of cleaouge, it will readilyl
divide.
" This is for the benefit of your damsels. I told them to tell Emma
that she must always strike the coal ' parallel with the lines of cleavage I 'P
She will be much edified ! ! "
To Rev. A. H. Reynak.
"Venice, March 20th, 1877.
" The Bride of the Sea is a very shrewish bride to-day, for a gald
of wind is blowing, and the lagoons are in huge waves. . . . About i
month ago it seemed to have become necessary for some one to come i
Italy to look after certain matters in connection with our mission work
and as I was about ' run down,' and Mr. Perks could not leave, the lol
fell upon me, and I was not sorry. We left home on March 2nd anq
crossed to Calais that evening, and the next day went on to Paris,
preached in Paris on Sunday, March 4th. The following Thursday w^
reached Spezia, where we have an interesting work, and where I liad I
inspect and report upon ground for a chapel, and the building itself, wliicli
has been susi>endod for seven months foi- lack of funds. We had aij
Italian service. We arrived at Rome on Saturday, the 10th. At far-ol|
and reverent distance I followed in apostolic footsteps, and preached ' thd
gospel to them tliat are in Rome also.' Our new chapel should have beeij
ready, but was not, and the opening is deferred for another month. W|
have just taken up a fine military mission in Rome, which the American
have failed to sustain. I attended a week-night service at which seviatj
boldicrs were present, and the work was formally transferred to our caraj
:5;7-]
LETTERS TO FRIENDS.
^}>1
Tan Meter, who has been very Bucccsaful in Rome, is also recalled, and
Lime of his work will fall into our hands. . . . The Certosa, at Bologna,
ii one of the most beautiful burial-places in the world. You walk for
I milea under marble arcades, amid groups of l)oautiful sculpture. In the
[University, moreover, I was much interested by the Etruscan remains
Iwently excavated. There are several coffins in which skeletons were
I found with the teeth perfect, and the rings that were buried with them
fiill upon the fleshless fingers. Some of them are indisputably of ancient
I date, for in the hand is the nbnliis to pay the faro demanded by Charon
I for crossing the Sty.x, and in some there is the piece of lirass, the irn rude,
lilting before nbnli were coined. ... I have hoanl from Dr. Ryerson of
fe safe arrival home. We had the good old man at Tntnhif, and I felt
honoured to have such a guest. We met Bishop Andrews in Rome,
Imd Bishop Haven in Paris. How these Americans do fly about the
Irorld ! "
To Rkv. W. Hikst.
" May 28th, 1877.
"Will you come and help to keep the old man's birthday, and put Mrs.
|Hirst's second-best taffeta upon her, and bring her also ! Dinner at 3
p,m. at the Tranby Hotel. Tuesday, 2!)th May. Excuse short notice, and
liever mind the white gloves. Oh, the memories of fifty-two years ! "
To Rkv. Gkrvask Smith.
" Jum mh, 1877.
" I hope you will have safely arrived in Cork when this reaches you.
I Will you please express on my behalf to the Conference at large, and
l:o the brethren individually, how warmly I feel towards them, and how
liorely I am disappointed at not being able to l)e present at tlieir sessions,
pd how earnestly I pray that the spirit of wisdom and unity may rest
Q them from first to la,st. The Lord bless Irisli Methodism, and make
|itan increasing power for good."
To Mr.*?. May.
'' Auriust mil, 1H77.
"We have been fancying our beloved friends at the Sunday tea-table,
lasting a stray thought after us, and wondering how we fared ; and by
lihe subtle photography in which thought adjusts the focus, and love pre-
Ipres the plate, we have seen all the loved likenesses at Park House, ' dis-
rinct. minute, as in a glass.' How to thank you, dear friends, for your
inqualified kindness, I cannot tell. We must be content to be your
Itttors, from the utter impossibility of bringing our assets up to our liabili-
res. But they are loving hearts to which you have been bountiful, and
lilthough gratitude has no image of Ca3sar on its coinage, which does not
Ijuss current on change, there has been enough coined from that mint
Iking the last five weeks to load a Spanish galleon, (Jod bless you all,"
)!■
438
IV. MORLEY PUNSHON.
[CHAP. XVII.
During the year Dr. Punshon delivered several
" Addresses " in different parts of the country. By
this term was denoted something between a speech
and a lecture, more formal and more carefully pre-
pared than the one, less laboured and elaborate tliau
the other. Of these the most important was entitled
*' Oxford under two Queens," delivered in Oxford,
at the meeting of the Evangelical Alliance. The
theme was a congenial one. A contrast between the
age of Mary and that of Victoria was one to appeal
to his strongest convictions, while the elements of
the historical and moral picturesque furnished fit
employment for his oratorio powers. It is, further,
interesting as a specimen of his later style. After
1872 he ceased to prepare new lectures, so that this
"Address" is by five years later than the latest of|
them. The style is somewhat more subdued, but the
essential characteristics of his eloquence are there
unchanged.
After a glowing tribute to the Oxford Martyrs, he
proceeds :
" If the retrospect were not too sad for laughter, there are aspects of
that age that are grotesque as well as grim. Thus priests from tlie
pulpits gave solemn warnings against the study of Greek, lest it should i
make the students heretics, and against the study of Hebrew, lest it should
make them Jews. Thus also it is related on the authority of Sir Thomas
More, who would certainly ' set nought down in malice ' which told of
Romish shortcomings, that a learned priest of those days had such
exaggerated reverence that, heedless of the sense of Scripture, he scraped
out the word Oiaholua in his manuscript of the gospels, and substituted
Jesus Chridus, on tlie ground that the devil's name was not fit to stand |
in so good a place.
" Now what was the underlying principle of all this ? These were times
of ignorance which was content to be ignorance, and which resented any
endeavour to enlighten it. They were times of indifference which disliked
any trouble in religion, and coveted easy absolution for permitted sin.
[chap. XVII.
'•erecl several
country. By
Ben a speech
carefully pre-
laborate tliau
) was entitled
id in Oxford,
iliance. The
, between the
me to appeal
( elements of
furnished fit
[t is, further,
style. After
[, so that this
the latest of I
)dued, but the
.ce are there
1 Martyrs, he
icrc are aspects of
priests from the
|eek, lest it should
)rew, lost it should
lity of Sir Thomas
Ice ' which told of
le days had such
•ipture, he scraped
Is, and substituted j
LS not fit to stand ■
j These were times |
Jhich resented any
jce which disliked
ar permitted sin.
.877.]
''OXFORD UNDER TWO QUEENSr
«9
They were times of stolid attachment to all ancient traditions. The tra-
Jitioiis mi<,'ht be baseless, foolish, cruel, but the hoar of antiquity was on
them, and those were branded as pestilent fellows who would attempt to
sweep them away. . . If we think of these times with all their conditions
I if diHadvanta, blind herself, l)linding the (iyes of
hope, and strangling charity outright, because it was not fit that she should
I live ; and then if we look at our own times, sinister enough, God knows,
n some of their aspects, but with the Queen upon the throne the patron
ind promoter of religious liberty, all the machinery of the constitution
I rciuly to be set in motion to screen a peasjuit's thatch, if wrong a.ssail it,
rad to protect the beggar's conscience if he but fancy it aggrieved ; witli
mikened thought covetous of all kinds of knowledge ; with juster views
iftlie nobility of man, and of the nature and claims of God ; with the
I li'ht shining clear and accessible even in the midst of darkness that can
kirdly comprehend it, and in moi-e favoured (juarters rising into a vei'y
riKin of graciousness and blessing — there is enough to move us to humility
Iffld thankfidness ; for ' the lines have fallen to us in pleasant places, and
pehiive a goodly heritage.'
"We will not dwell upon the cruelties of the former time. It is not
iir business to embitter, but to heal. We send not forth the raven from
ur ark, bird of hoarse note and evil omen ; we send forth the dove, and if
:!«iii find an olive-branch amid tiie waste of watei's, we hail its return as
|;he harbinger of peace. Moreover, as Keble .says,
' Our loathing were but lost.
Of dead men's crimes and old idolatiies,'
fwe were not more keenly alive to the lessons which the ages teach. We
lire by no means apologists for the Marian persecutions, nor for the more
linexcusable persecutions of those who, Protestant in name, have set up
little papacies of their own ; but we ought not to forget that by that mar-
■ellous alchemy by which our God turns a curse into a blessing, we owe
^niething of the I'obustness of our present faith to the persecutions that
lame upon our fathers. Persecution is the confession of defeat, the last
l»mrce of a beaten adversary. If. in the first age of Christianity, the
semies of the Cross could have disproved what the apostles alleged, it
riiuld liave been strangled in its birth, and the Jews might have rejoiced
pt in the rock-hewn sepulchre they had entombed both the impostor and
|i doctrine. But alike in the Hall and the Sanhedrim came the admission,
P'e cannot gainsay it,' followed swiftly by the expedient of their rage,
[But we can put it down.' And thus has it been in all ages. Persecution
liiMnade witnesses, who have inspired and confirmed other witnesses ; and
Ib the truth has been preserved, and has prevailed. . . . Every imprisoned
440
7V. MORLEY PUNSTTON.
[CHAI'. XVH.
apoHtlo, every rcvilod confoHHDr is our witp ss ; every IIiif,'iienot in tht
(liiiif,'eini, iiiid every liolliml at the Htiiine up. I went home and up to my bedroom, and fell down
and wept and roared before (rod. I took off my jacket to it. Christ
came to me early next morning.
" ' When I got up I rushed off to the man to whom I had paid the
deposit, and asked him to release me as I was going to give up my old
life. He did so on my consenting to forfeit £9. When my former
associates came and asked, ' Which will win ? ' I used to say, ' I don't
know nor care ; I've nothing to do with that now. I'll tell you Who will
win — Jesus Christ.' For years I had to bear tlieir oaths and sneers. Now,
however, they leave me alone, thank God.'
"The narrator is a hig ..y respectable man, a class-leader, and local-
preacher.''
The following letter possesses a double interest.
It was the last of the kind that Dr. Punshon received,
for its date is February 25tli, 1881, a few days before
lie left home upon the journey from which he only
returned to die ; and it was written by the Rev.
Edward Day, one of the devoutest ai-d most thought-
ful men in the Methodist ministry, at once an invalid
and an earnest worker, who has himself also since
then entered into rest : —
" Ever since your visit to me I have been so grateful for the counsel
ami encouragement you then gave me, that I feel 1 must wi'ite and tell
you of the issue of the painful conflicts through which I was then passing.
Tliey were terriblo conflicts indeed, and lasted for several mouths afoor
our interview, but I am thankful to say that light and peace came at hist.
' Again and again have many of your remarks recurred to me. Among
446
/r. IU)RLKY rUNSIlON.
[CHAl'. XV I.
them wiiH om- to tlio cfl'tct tliat God might ho porniittiiig me to jkish
through these painful cxiierienees to |)re])are me for greato/ usefuhiess,
and to give me d effect to a sermon you preached a long
time ago in Victoria Cliajjel, I thought I wonhl write and ask your advice,
because I think you know enough of life to uiKhTstand better than most
ministers tho peculiar combination of andiitious desires and grovelling
na' -ions, high hopes and weak-minded follies, golden promises and lament-
anil J) ;, "ormances with which my character abounds."
Mingled with letters like these are requests of
various kinds A young lady sends him two or three
texts from whicli she desires to hear him preach. An-
other says, " I want you to write me a piece of poetry
to keep in memory of you." One young man wishes for
"a little information on t\\v, suhject of oi'iginal sin."
.liiother wants to know " how the ark as described
liv .Moses could possibly hold the number of cn^atures
I spoken of, and how Noah, with all his family to
assist, could perform tht; daily Herculean task of
1 cleansing the ark ? "
•V youtii wlio dat(!S from St. [^lul's Ohurchyafd,
■i[vv hearing him lectuie on 77/ 1; Proplici vf llori'h,
h\ rites : —
it was too richly clad in tiie garli of fascinating languagt; io pa.ss fmrn
iii^ iiHuioiy of any \\hi> heard it, mindi k'ss from the mind of a devotee
it the shrine of Apollo I iiave long desired to Ik' honoured by .your
|i'iM inlship, but have not hitherto found opi)ortunity to gratify that
448
W. MORLRY PUNS HON.
[chap. XVIII.
He then modestly asks for a personal interview, that
the long-desired friendship may begin as soon as
possible !
A correspondent in the North of England has a
case of conscience, and desires advice. He has joined
an artillery Volunteer corps, which has given offence
to some of the members of the Church, " especially
those of little mind."
'' My motive for doing so was only this. I am a thorough Englishman,
not a Jackahin in any sense of the word. In me it is entireli/ df/eiisire.
For, if mj beloved country should be invaded by any foreign foe, I should
be ashamed of myself if I did not know something of the best moans
of dealing with an invader, and defending my de.ar wife, children, and
interests. Your opinion, my dear sir, on this matter would settle the
subject in my own mind entirely. I need not tell you that all the men
joining these corps are not as good as we might desire them."
of an anonymous
admirer begins
The letter
abruptly :- -
" O CiiJtYsosTOM ! this day have I first known pleasure. Yes, more
than thirty years have I lived, and it lia^i been reserved to this day and
tt) thee to thrill my inmost chords of emotion. . . . By men of every
grade and dignity in our Church have I heard its hturgy read, intoned,
recited, jumbled, mumbled, in every possible manner spoiled and errone-
ously rendered. I never before heard it pi-ai/ed."
But anonymous letters were not all eulogistic, as
will be seen from the following :-
" It is quite useless to expatiate, as you too often do, on the grandeur (if j
redemption and the priceless value of the Atonement. It is all a fiction.
The word Atonement is not in tlie Groek Testament, as every .scholar!
knows ; and the thing itself is absolutely impossible, as is fully sceu by [
every mathematical logician. . . . By introducing the fact and the ,
necessity of a Second Person in a consu'«.-)tantial Trinity, you make j
Christianity itself illogical and alisurd. Yet upon tliih fabnlous Triniiv
you erect an artificial fabi'ic of false dtKitrine, and thrust truth down!
deeper into the well of Plato.
" I have heard you several times. Your lecture on Bunyan fell point
less to the ground. That before the Young Men s Christian Association i
^ust truth down
tiau Associatiou
^nscELLAHEOVS.] APPEAL FROM A ROMAN CATHOLIC. 449
wius declamatory, et pnelerea nihil. I prefer a hundred lines of Horace to
all the lines you recited from the modern poets. It /.s i/our smitonn that
I iAonixh ami pled se Die. After hearing you I am affected for a week, and
I gometimes I wake in the night filled with visions of a beautiful futurity.
' On Tuesday evening next, when 1 hope to ha-, j the pleasure of hearing
I vnu, 1 cannot expect or desire that you should declaim against Christianity
itself, unless you disbelieve its divinity as sincerely as I do. I should be
unusually pleased if you would discourse on any topic of human or supernal
interest, courageously leaving out of your sermon for once the uusub-
Luntialand hackneyed phmses of .salvation by grace, justification by faith,
and expiatory sacrifices, ■ hich are either artificial creations of superstition
or remnants of heathenism. My intellect wHl thus receive a less violent
I concussion, when fictions are not presented to me as truth by one of your
superior talents ; and whilst I resign myself for an hour to the magic of
I vnur eloquence, the sentimental or spiritual part of my nature may receive
a delightful impulse on the road towards Truth, the p^irsuit of which is
Iwith me a labour of love."'
In contrast with the foregoing, is the following
[appeal from a Eoman Catholis after hearing him
1 lecture in Bristol : —
' Why is your lot with those who are the enemies of the Church of God ?
I The Church parallels you with S. Vincent, S. Ignatius, S. Charles, and a
I host of great preachers of the gospel of Christ. Join the noble army of
j.eachers. Call up their spirit, which is fast decaying among us; so shall
Divine grace turn your obetlience to the greater glory of God in conversions
las numerous and effective as blessed the labours of your prototypes. We
I have need of you in the Catholic Church. Be not content with preaching
l'.k' baptism of repentance. Take to yourself the orders and mission of
(the Church of Rome, that sacramental grace may crown your mighty Imt
lunhallowed labours in the service of her Lord."
These examples will suflice. It will be seen that
Itrom the outer circle of his correspondents he some-
Itimes received words that cheered and comforted
lliim, and not infrequently that which woke bis sense
lof humour — revealed to those about him by the smile
pking round his mouth, or by hearty, irrepressible
ii,^liter. Often there was nothing to redeem a half
pLure of letters from utter unprofitableness ; and
29
450
/r. MORi.i'.v iHJXsno.M.
fcMAI'. Will.
soiriotiiiies a sting liko that of a scrpoiit pierced Inm
unoxpoc-todly, — a HlandcM' or an insult lauiiclicd IVom
tlio salo concoaliiH^iit so dear to tlie mean and tliol
iniilioious. But, on the whole, the lettei's nieoivc'd
during tlu^ y(!ars oi" ]iis ministry show that liis iiillu-
euoe was of wide and varied range, and furnish groiind
for thf! Ixdief that in niiiny an uureeordcul inHtaiicoj
it was au inlhumce for liighest and for lasting good.
Of Dr. Punslion's po})iUjiriiy as a })reach(!r iiiidj
lecturer nuudi luis \)vm\ sjiid in the (jourse of tliisj
biography. It might he further illustrated in various
ways. TJie ingenuity of iiews))a])er writers on botlij
sid(.'S of tin; Atlantic was oft(Mi strained to \\w. utter-
most in the attempt to desciiihe his ;iudiences,— -tliol
numbers, the eagerness, the excitenumt. PersonsJ
usually nujjisured in their s|)eech grew eloqiUMit ;ij|
they described their impressions. On one occasion
when he ])reaclu!d at (Uoucester, apology was niad
to a ccu'tain j)roniinent citizen at tin; (dos(, of tli
siu'vice that, in consequcnice of the gi'eat crowd, it
had been found impossihle to provide liim a seutJ
•' Sir, i would have stood u[)on my head to hear liiiu,'1
was the innixMliate answer. A Chicago newspupc
thus describes the scene at the; hall where Dr]
Pnnshon preached on a Sunday afternoon in iMa\
1868 :—
" An lioiir hd'on^ t,lir door opi'iicd tlic; scene in tlus Mtrcel, wiis ii |ii(lim)i
Till) crowd iWiiyuil up and down \Vjisliin<^t,oii Stroi^t. «t;.i>|»insuge way, a man set nd
whole crowd into a roar of laughter by (ri'ying out lustily, ' Hold en ilm
Pre.ss back, gentlemen, 1 have h)st my wile ! '
|iiiM Ki.i.ANKoi's.i x/-:irs/\i/'/-:k' ca'/'/vc/sa/s. .151
'■ A scon; of polici^iiicii at tliu donrs vainly tiiiilciivoiirtiil l,n chccik tin;
.iiii'iii. lull, lii'cakiii'^' over all li(Miiiil,iii("^, the iiinpUj |iniiicuse(l to the higiiest uiithusiasm. It i.-, no v\ondcr that i rowds
|tiiik lo hear his wizard like spells."
Aiiotiici' -< : —
" \\i h;;\i; lisuneil to inosi of the populai' speakitrs of the day, both in
I' [iidint and on the platform, hut wv never before heard any one wbd
(aics so near tin ideal wo have formed of a Hurki; or Sheri pronunciation is on the whole exceedingly chaiue and elegant."
A lengthy and glowing description of his style
Jloses tlms : —
Did you ever sail by swift boat, in the midst of our glorious autumn,
ivn the magnificent Hudson from Ali)any to the Palisades 'i An
hlioM of Punsiion's is such a sail, only he nevei- lets you stop by the
[iv. More delightful, more pieturescpie, more variegated, more abso-
454
JV. JlfOAV./CV PUNS no A\
[CTTAI'. win.H "1
liitcly woiKlorfnl iiiul ciicliantiiiK in its mpid stKicoHsioii (if the Ipcauiifnl
iind till- siililiiMc, even llic iim('I|iimIUm1 |i:iri()i';iiii:i (vf tlic lliiilsnii in nm I
UiJiii is tlu: ciiiirniiiii,' voyaj,'!; over wiiicli without jar of on;,qiK; or ll;is|||
Mill,
of tMi^^iiio or lliivlil
)iisly hurries ymi.
li of orators. Aral
is not l>rv;mt, iir|
s Loiiyfi'llow."
ascriptions ol
liat have iip-j
the AtliiuticJ
nnatiou ofteij
'e paragraplisJ
nothini,' of a fojn
nd in liis ilross liiq
iwofV. He (lot's iioj
!i delicately sk iitf
lini as ho rises, liig
1 sense, shrewdiiis
r, nor even noticej
)r walk the stni
enow who that isl
to stoutness, witj
rows, with ii no^
a full, fleshy, n'
mouth and eliir. ;^
character. He I
the two."
ably speak
one of tlioi
two luinilrol
'lata fiiriiisy
pr. Piiushoa
the order
wliicli liis lectures were produced : — Liferaturc,
Scii'.ncc, (UkI liclifjion, piior to 1H54 ; yVie Prophrt
of Ifnrch, January, IH.Vl ; Jhnn/an, February, IB;")?;
Thi' Iliif/uoiofs, February, 1850; Dafiiel in Bahi/lofi,
Marcli, 1861 ; Macavlai/, Jaiuiary, 186'2 ; Weslfi/ and
Ilia Times, February, 1863 ; Wilhff/orce, January,
1865 ; Fhvenca and its Meinories, Marcli, 18()8 ; TJit;
Men of the Mdij/loivery January, 1872.
The Prophet of Horeh was not delivered more than
six or seven times, as it was publislied soon after its
first delivery. The otlier lectures were given in tlie
United Kingdom and in America as follows : —
Florence and its Memories, thii'tj times; Wither-
I /o;re, thirty-two; Bunyaii, thirty-four; The Huguenots,
forty-eight ; Literature, Science, and lieliqion, fifty-
two ; Wesley, sixty-five ; }facaulay, sixty-eight ; ^/etl
of the Mayflotver, one hundred and twenty-eight ;
and Daniel in Babylon, one hundred and fifty-eight
times, giving a total of six Imndred and twenty-one.
To tliese must be added some thirty other occasions
on which lie delivered less formal lectures, mainly
composed of readings from the poets ; and it would
be a fair summary of his labours to say that between
1854 and 1881 Dr. Punshon lectured six hundred
and fifty times, to audiences ranging from five
liimdred to five thousand persons.
During that period there were three years in which
lie gave no lectures, viz., 1866 and 1875 and 1876.
The years spent in America were tliose of his highest
activity as a lecturer. From 1868 to 1872 inchisive,
lie lectured no less than two hundred and ninety-
three times. It would be a very moderate estimate
to say that in this way he raised fifty or sixty
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prettily. But while he coughs so.— Tx-rc^ — Tf-uli — 7'/t-iks liifl
|(/. there is :i liw>^
EUie. An«l as
Ik her birthdiiy to-ilay. ifmiiilpiipa says to all his letters, aixl to the |H> the sign-manual
of his monarchs, statesmen, and men of letters,
possessions iu which he rejoiced with an almost
boyish glee. On the happy occasions of an evening
at home, when his treasures had been examined, lie
was ever ready to give a reading from some poet,
or, better still, a recitation, in which pleasant art
most people would say they had never known his
equal. In capping verses, and in all that pertained
to verbal ingenuities, the making and guessiug of
riddles, the devising of puzzles and acrostics, he was
a master, and would throw himself into them with
much zest and enjoyment. These are little things ;
and yet such little things, fringing life's severer
employments, and serving to vary their strain, have
their uses. They may reveal kindliness and simplieity
of nature, and a gonial temper unspoiled alike by
V aud loved
MISCELLANEOUS.] M/i. LORA/.VE'S RECOLLECTIONS. 461
prosperity and adversity. For this reason, perhaps,
they hold their place among the pleasant memories
of Morley Pnnshon that are cherished by his friends.
These details may now give place to some recollec-
tions of Dr. Punshon's earlier and later days, furnished
by the liev. Nevison Loraine, Vicar of Grove Park
West, London : —
"When first I saw and knew him, he was in the early years of his
I ministry, and I was quite a youth, just awaking to the joy of noble
I words. He had already won a wide reputation as a brilliant speaker, both
on the platform and in the pulpit ; and wherever he wa.s announced to
I speak eager crowds assembled to listen to the young orator. And very
few who heard him in those early days of his vigour and f reshnesT that did
not own the spell of his uni(iue and glowing style. He was very youthful
in appearance, and looked, though young, even younger than his years.
His movements were then active, and Iuk figure was slight. His face, not
by any means handsome, was singularly mobile, and radiant with ;i very
winning kindness of expression. His eyes were small, but remarkably
alert, and sparkling with humour. His voice was somewhat harsh, having
;i kind of metallic ring that at the outset of his speech grated upon the
hearers ; but presently the ear became reconciled, and his juuniliar vocal
I Kines added force and intensity to his flowing and rapid uttenance. His
'tyle was unusually illustrative and pictures(|ue. It abounded in vivid
I descriptions of natural .scenery, in allusions to literature and art, and apt
I though brief (piotations. His sentences had a peculiar rhythmic beat and
cadence. On the platform be gave full play to his humour and imagina-
I lion ; and used with singular aptitude and facility the events of the hour
and the oUservations of preceding speakers with which to give point and
effect to his own addres.s. Yet, notwithstiinding his fluent readiness in
txtemporaneous speech, which he freely exercised on minor occa-sions, his
[sermons and lectures were elaborated with great care, written out at
Ugth, and committed to memory with evon verbal accuracy. His lecture
I on T}te Priipliet uf Ifnirh, remarkable as a brilliant popular oration, was
scarcely less remarkable as a feat of memory. Until he was on the plat-
|form he did not decide whether to read his lecture or to attempt it
II'' IK ur iter. The occasion was one that awakened his modest apprehen-
sions. He was young, new to a London platform, and many of his
colleagues in that series of lectures were distinguished men. The sight of
I the viist as-sembly, however, inspired him ; he ' took heart of grace ' and
Idetermined to 'speak without l)ook." But before rising he pa.ssed his
luiiiuHcript tu u friend ou the platform, saying, ' Follow me, aud if I falter
463
ir. MOKl.KY PUNSHO.W
(CHAI-. XVIII.
i
.■5
4
giv«' m« Uio lMM)k.' There wan uo fullering. For nearly two liDiirs lie Ih-M
the nipt attuntioii of his Hudieiiee ; and, an ho afterwards related t. imt
indeed 'moved with envy.' but struck with his unusually imaginative and j
desciiptive style, fell into a frequent fault of careless criticism in dealing
with writers or speakers j)ossessiiig eminently some special gift, of exalting
the most conspicuous talent at the expense id' the general balance of other
faculties. But great g'fts rarely stand alone. And beneath the hi),'lily
picturesque and occjisioiially Horid style of Morley Punshoii, there were I
sounsophir.il,
profound, or very suggestive, but his iKjreeptions of truth were clear, his I
gra8|) was firm, and the arningemeiit lucid and logicjil. He spoke out of
the fulness of his heart, and his exuberant fancy clothed and adorned rather ]
luxuriously the things he felt and spoke.
"Morley Punshon's was a simple and manly nature. He had in liimj
great depths of kindness. His popularity — and in bis early ministry it j
was very remarkable — never spoiled him. Ijven in those younger ytiintj
when responsibilities sit simicwhat lightly on the life, ere the discijiline of j
care and sorrow have sol)ered the judgment and mellowed the will. I iicvirl
saw in him sign of affectation or conceit. These are the sins of narrower j
natures than his. Occasionally his manner ap[K'ared distant and rest'rvuC{UUIU-t' fouiKl
waH inoru wiltur
inotiH n^itrosciitnl
y wurc, liowtviT,
! |iriiiui|)luK of thu
liiviHh in a|it ainl
,< lit climiix, soniu-
ttylc wiiHCiitiri'ly
oral il. and Arthur is come Iionie Ui
he; but the Lord livtth. iuid we all iii;iy livi' in Him.' Thus he wept
Iwitli them that wept, but the joy of hope shone through his .sympathetic
|t''iirs.
■ In February I receiv«d his last note — the last of how many, sisfcially
|j| the earlier years, and how much valued for their fniternal friendship.
lit was but a line to say that his ' shattered nervous .system had collapsed,
liliut he was compelled to lelinipiish all public engagements, and was about
464
fV. MORLKY PUNSHON. [cHAi-. xviii.
i
to start with his wife and son Percy for the Riviem, and haply, to give hid
wanderings an object, to visit our mission in Rome.'
" A few weeks later I was in a friend's houne where many were coniiiig
and going ; an evening newspaper was brought, and some one announced
among the latest items of news, 'The death of the Rev.W.Morley Punshon.'
The arrow reached my heart alone ; others in that company knew only
that a famous orator had passed away, but I that my friend was dead. 1
went out to commune with that sorrow in solitude, to revive the memory
of the buried years — incidents of tender friendship and scenes of sacred
joy.
" ' But in dear words of human speech
We two communicate no more.'
" Our first and our last meetings on earth were amid the solemnities of
Divine worship. On the first occasion I listened with young surpriHc to |
the eloquent preacher. As I entered the pulpit of Holy Trinity Church,
Bournemouth, a few months before his death, my eyes alighted instautlyj
upon the familiar face of my friend. It awakened many memories, and!
evoked allusions and illustrations that I saw in his varying expression hadl
for him special meaning. With the benediction of that service we parted
on earth for ever. But
" ' ... tho' my lips may breathe adieu,
I cannot think the thing farewell.'
Our next meetiiig will be amid the solemnities of nobler worship, and th^
unbroken joys of the life for evermore."
Mr. Loraine, in his " Recollections," has anticipatet
the close of these memoirs, but it was impossible t(
interrupt the course of a narrative so tender, disj
criminating, and complete.
CHAPTER XIX.
,he Bolemnities of I
^oung BurpriBctoj
J Trinity Church,
alighted instantlyl
ny memories, and I
ag expression hadl
service we purtedl
1878— 1881.
LONDON: MISSION HOUSE. A(,edbitom.
Last Years of Labour. — Suiferingatid Depression. — Journal and Letters.
-Death of his Eldest Son. — Last Journey to the Continent. — Illness. —
^ath. — Burial. — Sorrow in the Churches. — Letters from Friends.
[he beginning of the year 1878 found Dr. Punshon
11 of work, not in the best of health, but in fairly
^ood spirits. Christmas had been, as usual, a happy
time. Advent blessings, so often referred to by him,
ifere realised afresh, and the home life felt the cus-
[omary glow. Mr. and Mrs. Hirst, and a few other
atimate friends, together with his three sons
kthered round the table, and love and good wishes
jfere sent over sea to the relatives in Canada, and
Mr. and Mrs. Gervase Smith "n Australia.
Then came the services of the closing and of the
jpeuing year, prized by him now as always, and never
agaged in without emotion. On New Year's-eve he
bended the watch-night service at Brixton Hill
[hapel. Before doing so, he wrote in his Journal :
" The year is dying fast. I have been reviewing it, and am humbly
Inscious of much that has been unworthy ; but I trust in Christ, and,
(ind by many mercies hereby renew my covenant. I will be Thine, O
30
46^)
ir. MORLEY I'UNSIIOX,
^.
"^Hj'
lioni, do wiili lilt) wlint Tlimi wilt, put iiit> t«> wliiit Hurvico Thou wiltj
uii«l iniikf uii) cliuerfiil to oboy. "
Oil tlio first Sunday of tlio year, lio assistod Mr.
Hirst iu the Covoiiant Sorvico at Mostyu lioiulj
roturning liomo *' wearied, but blest." Tlio Jounuil
says : — " Tbe year has not opened auKpiciously s(j|
far as my own healtli is eoncornod ; but it hasoiuMic
spiritually well." His list of engagcmouts (luiiiij|!
the first half of the year recalls liis most vigorous!
days. Though he had efficient colleagueH jit tli
Mission House who shared both his labours and his
anxieties, that did not greatly lessen their wei^'ht]
As Senior Secretary lie exercised a kind of priniiic
— primus infer pares — and, in parti(!ular, carried tli
burden of the Society's financial affairs, not then \i
the most flourishing condition. In addition to \\\{
duties at the House, he spoke at missionary meeting
iu many parts of the country. Within a few woekj
he visited West Bromwich, Bolton, Luton, Bradford
Hull, and Manchester. His speeches were nifiiiil
extempore, tliough now and again carricnl to a cliiiiai
in a passage carefully prepared, and delivered witj
the old force and beauty. It was his custom to kco]
a brief record, so brief as to be scarcely intelligil)lj
to any but himself, of the topics on which he spoke
The following are examples.
"Bolton, Feb. Gth, 1878.— Perks. Moral culture. Review pri^
ciples. Indian famine. Spain, ailments. Italy, Spezia, Rome. 3Ii'
Openings. Prophecy. Advent. K.\piation. Resurrection. Empire.'
"LrroN Ffh. 18///, 1 878.— Individual Christian life. Spun
Portugal. Italy. 'Too frightened to run away.' Men. OiKsiiiiiiJ
Money. Power of littles. Milan Cathedral."'
"Manciiestku, Oi.iuiam Stim'.kt, April 22n(l, 1878— Aifn-o \\'\\
Chinest' sages. Opium. ' Moral country.' Italy. Spain. Halcaricls
Candidates. Salutation of peace. ' All liail.' Vindicate theology ad
[chap. xix.HiX7><]
MISSION A R Y SPKKCIIRS.
467
Hcrvioi- 'I'lioii wilij
|fXI)«Ti«'iu!u. Wi'Mt ImlioM. l,(MHt iiicn>iiM<<. Scvoriil Oiri'uitM scIf-Hup-
|piirtinj(. Iiicomo. Warn of Rohon. Holton r. Hradford. MiiuduiHtor
|r. York. To-diiy. To-morrow. Kiicounigcinoiit uihI promiso."
Kamn«i, Kiiv. 2I<(<, IH7><. -Now Oiiiiioii. JoMcph's honvH. Doan
IStiinluy. Wlio (lOiiHecnitod City lload Oomotory V HoncHtif Jolin Wesley.
IS|i;iin. OiKjningH. (Jartnichaol. CypruH. Japan. Trannvaal. Iiulividu-
|ility. Panny. Revival. Hardur work. For Zion'H wike."
His missionary speeches combined many olemonts,
I all well adjusted to one common end. There wore
statements of finance that the hearers could grasp
and remember ; rapid surveys of the world's life, and
tlu' great moral issues involved ; narratives of toil
and progress, of sowing and of reaping on many a
mission station ; features of heathenism and corrupt
Christianity portrayed ; instances of the power of the
gospel ; the story of this or that native agent ; the
permanent duties, motives, resources of the Christian
Church; illustrations from nature and from art;
gleams of humour ; a pleasant story now and again ;
impassioned appeals to the conscience ; — these and
tlie like in ever varying order and proportion gave to
his speeches at once intellectual interest and moral
power, and laid the sacred cause of Christian missions
[oil many a heart.
But his labours could not be confined to this, his
[own special department of Church work. Home
missions, chapel building, education, philanthropy,
young men's societies, all claimed and received his
help. The form in which that help was sought was
most frequently a lecture. After discontinuing his
lectures for two or three years, he now resumed them.
In 1878 he lectured twenty-seven times, and in the
two followiug years twenty-four and thirty-four times
respectively. It was, indeed, a kind of Indian
46S
IF. MORI.KY PUNSHON.
[chap. XIX.
m
summer with him, a brief coming back again of a|
season that had seemed over, a renewing of tlie past!
rather than a new beginning. Tliis year it was chiefly
The Men of the Mayflower iYi^ithe deUvered, a lecture
scarcely known, as yet, in England. Towards the
end of January he gave it three nights in succession,
in three different towns. Among the towns where he
lectured during the year were Leeds, Lancaster,
Bolton, Burnley, Halifax, Birmingham, Bristol and
Exeter. He also delivered addresses on America,
on " Large-heartedness," and on Wyclif. The year's
work was enough — more than enough — for a strong!
man, and he was that no longer. But the desire tol
work while it was day consumed him, and the habifcl
of many years helped to carry him on in spite of|
diminishing power.
.TOUKNAL.
^^ January \Wi, 1878. — A week of labour. The world full of disquiet. I
Death in high places. The King of Italy cut down in his prime. Thej
weather cheerle.ss and trying, but my faith resting upon God, and I J
anxiously longing for the closer knowledge of HLs ways.
" Janudri) 2()tnick below, his twin turned the hour-glass, the old man answered the
1 rub's stroke of the quarters, and death tolled out the hour. The
lApostles salaamed as decorously, and the cock crowed as vigorously as
jslien I last saw them many years ago.
• .lAi/z -•>'''• — Arrived at Stuttgart, and were met by Mr. Barratt, Mr.
Iiihnson. and Mr. Trafford. Went in the evening to see the site of the
:;iw chapel in the So^iliiiutittui.'^sp.
• .!/(/// '2i')tli. — At 10.;5<) preached in our long room in the MarkiMtraxnc.
Tlie room was fairly filled. Preached at Cauiistadt at four in the aftor-
imon and took tea with Mr. Barratt.
" .'/((// '27111. -Drove through Caunstadt and Waiblingen to Winuenden
liiiii Backniing. At Backuang we have a little chapel, where about sixty
j;niple were assembled. I spoko through an interpreter; dined at
Dioterle's, drove l)ack to Winuenden, a very quaint old town ; spoke
ijain. as did Mr. May, and Mr. Edmunds. There were more than a
|:iiiiidrcd present
• .!/(/'/ 28///. — Went to Cannstadt to the District Meeting. Sat among
lie brethren, dined with them in (Jernian fasliion. Mrs. Barratt and
|.\lis. Rogers came to tea.
" Ma;/ 2\)th. — .1/// fi/rtlahii/, the second I liave spent in a foreign land.
I Humbled before God, and T trust contrite an. XIX. B'^"'^']
FRESn SORROWS.
473
0. I iind my com
;lirt!ii.
I given up to lnwi- j
;<) tlio Doni, wlurr
sermon ; uiid tlitii
oou. In tlio after
ivo iatelliyent .ind
1 our rtxini Ijiforc
honrs in the OKI
avo noted, ami shall
9W (lays later,
ioii matters to
es. Some of I
riie following
stairs, with smells.
p annum. No sing-
tance of Lutheran
;o to be given at j
nding policeman. '
hut 4'20 are paid
present. Sunday '
law. Cause here
T annum. Sugar
k'esent. Congrega-
li seven years."'
permany, where 1
sions, and attend-
Cannstiidt, and
fcr, at Backnan;,'.
femberg. Miieh
pUigent api)re(ia-
We have Iteen
Iwere capsized in
other occasious
The Irish Conference met in Dublin on the 19th
I June, under the presidency of Dr. Pope, who was
accompanied and supported hy Dr. Punshon. It
WHS an important Conference, inasmuch as it decided
for the union with the Primitive Methodists of Ireland
[which had been for some years under consideration.
LKTTEK to II KV. W. IIlltST.
'• DriM.iN. .huw 'J7M, 1H7H.
•• Our Conference has gone off well. There was a great show of oppo-
l.sition to the Union with the Primitives, aud a very able debate ensutnl.
\tliist, however, it passed unanimou.sly. The President has done wonder-
fully well. He has been with us at Dalkey, and until yesterday we have
I thoroughly enjoyed it. Yesterday was exceedingly sultry, and I had to
lecture to some thousand or two in a large hall, and am consequently
txliausted to-day.
" I am deeply touched by dear Maunder's death. He wa.s a man I
greatly loved. How mysterious these removals are ! He was apparently
I doing a very gootl work, and his health had seemingly improved. We
had no more blameless and oeautif ul character among us."
In the interval between the Irisli and the English
[Conferences, there fell upon him, suddenly and unex-
pectedly, one of the heaviest sorrows of his life. Its
nature cannot be explained here. It touched other
lives beside his own, and is too closely connected
with those who are yet living to come fairly within
the province of the biographer. It would have been
more agreeable to pass it by unmentioued, had that
been possible. But it was a blow so shattering to
health and happiness, that his afterlife would scarcely
be intelligible if all reference to it were omitted. One
compensation it had of which he was not unmindful.
It called fortli the loving sym|)athy of his friends in
uo common degree. Susceptible as he had always
been to the manifestations of sympathy, those that
he now received were particularly precious. They
474
ir. MORIEY PUiVSHO.V.
[chap. XIX.
lielped to preserve him from utter collapse. Tlioro
was one aspect of the matter more noticeable still.
For years it had been his habit to look upon sorrows
and disappointments in the light of discipline, of
which he humbly acknowledged his need. Here was
a crucial instance for the exercise of this spirit. And
he was not permitted to fail. In what was, perha})s,
the bitterest of all his trials, he accepted the chastise-
ment. '* He, for our profit, that we might be partakers
of His holiness."
He wrote : — " I am in the depths, . . . compelled to go softly, but there
in an arm round me, and it holds mo up. ... I i\eed a great deal of
humbling ; surely this heart of mine must have worn its i)rido high, whtn
such rudu blows are needed ' to break the crown of it.' ... I have had
a world of kind feeling and sympathy, and I find consolation in my work,
and in ' casting my aire upon the Lord.' "
JOUUNAI,.
^' Scptemhcr ^tli. — The Conference a memorable one, solemnised by tlie
death of two of its members on the chapel premises, — Rev. P. C. llortoii,
and jNIr. Edward Allen, of Sleaford. The shock was very great, and tliu
admonition near and terrible. The first Representative Conference p;is>c;d
oil' well. A little eifervescence at first, but it soon subsitled, and the lay-
men bore their part, and proved, as wiis expected, conservative of old in-
stitutions and modes of working, while not indisposed to undertake iitw
enterprises. Since the Conference I have been in Wales and at Hlackixuil.
in search of health, which hitherto hius not come at my bidding. ]\Iy
whole digestive system is out of order, my heart is irritable and inttr
mittcnt in its action, my liver sluggish, and, by cousecjuence, my general
health impaired. All the doctors recommend prolonged rest. I am in
the hands of the Lord, and long to be iiu/ct in His hands, but I often rebel.
Oh, for perfect submission, the blessedness of complete surrender I
" Octnbir 20tlt. — Went from home on the first of the month, and only
returned hist night. Eight nights have been nearly sleepless, tlirtt; of
tht-m altogether so, and the weary hours of waking have tried me nuuli,
and ilepresscd me severely on the following days. Last night I heard tliu
clock strike each hour from eleven until nine this morning. I had suiao
restful enjoyment at Torquay. Ilfracombe, and Lyntou. We saw tlio
Waltons off to South Africa. I long to be brought nearer to God by this
discipline. I leave the future in His hands. Perhaps
[chap. XIX. ■,g;8.]
THE TltA^ICSGlViyrG FUND.
475
lapse. Tliere
iticeable still.
upon sorrows
discipliue, of
i. Here was
1 spirit. And
was, perhaps,
the chastisu-
fc be partakers
o softly, but theru
d a great deal of
H pride higli, when
,.'... I have had
lation in my work,
y them. Oh for grace to make
the mercies and the trials alike tributary to character ! Dr. Smith, I fear,
very poorly, and desponding about liis liealth. Lord, raise Thy servant to
full vigour if it be Thy will. Father Tabraliam, and good John Howard
I of Bedford, taken home during the week."
The year closed in peace. Dr. Punshon took part
I in the watch-night service at Brixton Hill. Just
478
ir. MORl.KY PUNSHON.
[cilAf. XIX.
hot'om midiii^'ht lio road tho Goiioral CoufosHioii hikI
TlifiMkHj,Mvinf(, the congregation Joining in them. On
the first Sunday of the new year he " heard a nicy,
refreshing, soul-comforting sermon from Mr. Kelly,"
and in the afternoon assisted in the Covouaut
service.
To Rev. W. Hiust.
" J«rtu«n/ 2;W, 1879.
" I hiive been waiting and longing to boar from you till I can't wait any
longer. How are you V How is dear A V Is it tbat chairniiiiislii|i
Hits irkHoniely upon you, or are you broucbitioally troubled, or are yon
really i|uiti' well? We have bad a sick bouse. M bas bad Iior fii-st
attack of Irt'oncbitis, and it bas left ber very sensitive, and impatient of
tills bitter cold weatber. I really believe I am mending. My sleep has
partially come back to me.
" How wonderfully tbo Tbanksgiving Fund bas done in London ! Wliat
tbink you of Mostyn Road £1,1.')8 ! and tbe largest subscription 'i\'l)\
from Parker, — down to a little cboir-boy who gave a fartbing !
" Ours at Uri.xton was also a great success. We did not set tbe Aire on 1
fire at Bradford. Many of tbe principal folk absented tbemselves, 1k'-
cause tbey could not give what they would, and would not give what tluv I
could. We got .i;4,2(}0, which included £1,0(»0 from Henry Mitcliull. |
Tbey will do better when trade mends.
" Cforvase keeps very poorly, and seems to have a notion tbat his work is I
done. He is very despondent about himself, which is a bad sign. Feelili -I
ness of tbe heart's action, causing difficulty of breathing, is bis cliicf J
ailment. Our Missionary arrangements are nearly complete. Watkinsniij
preiicbes on Tuesday evening, W. O. Simpson on Wednesilay, the Presiikntl
on Thursday morning, and Theodore Monod of Paris on Friday morninj;.
May presides at the breakfast, and Richard Haworth at Exeter Hall.
" Nance, ShoU, and J. Posnett come up for tbe Sunday. Rathbone Kd;,'e.|
and Sir Arthur Gordon, Governor of Fiji, will speak at the meetins,'.]
With Osborn just returned from the West Indies, and Simpson, I hope
we may do well."
Journal.
^'^ Vehniarji hMh. — A week of anxieties, mainly on account of frieuds.j
Mrs. Osborn has been seriously ill, so much sv) tbat at one time we coulilj
not tell what might be tlie result. Felt constrained to cry mightily to(t(4|
on ber account. I trust and believe that God will spare her husbantB
again. ... I am anxious about the missions, the income, the opening*
tbat crowd upon us, and which we know not how to enter.
[CIIAIV XIX. H iSjf) 1
M/SS/ONA R y A FtA IRS.
470
)ufossi()ii iind
u them. Oil
lioard a raoy,
. Mr. Kelly,"
iG Covouaut
iuar!/2'Mi, 1870.
ill I can't wait any
that chairinaiishi|i
)uble(l, or are yon
— liaH liad licr first
!, and impatient of i
ing. My sleep liiis |
in London ! Wliiit
sub.scription I! IT;")
irthiiig !
not set the Aire on j
:od themselves, 1k^- ]
not give what tlicv
1 Henry Mitchell.
on that his work is|
)ad sign. Feelih'
ling, is his cliicfj
plete. WatkinROMi
ilay, the Presidontj
n Friday morninj,'.]
Exeter Hall.
Rathbone Etlije,
c at the meetini,'.]
Simpson, I hopej
3count of frienils.j
ne time we couMj
mightily to(r(idl
are her husbamB
me, the openiugij
r.
•• Filiniaiji 2'.\iil. — Anxieties but slightly relieved. Mrs. Osluirn still
ill. Till! ItootliH lingering. Dear (Jervase and Mrs. May both very
|)()i>rly. The niissiori ineoiue threatening a seriouH decroase. I eould lie
very mneh llO, but this will be our deficit on the income from
the Districts. The legacies will diminish this a little, but still we are
largely in debt, and likely to continue so. We are not quite at one as to the
best method of managing our affairs. We have some who wish to reduce
our Society to the level of a commercial concern. To my mind this can-
not, and ought not to be done. . . . We have had another anxiety in the
protracted illness of jNIrs. Osborn. Her husband has been three months
in the West Indies on a mis-siouary tour, and we feared she would not
live till his return. . . . Dr. Smith, too, has been very poorly, and con-
tinues so, quite incapable of work. In the middle of May, all being well,
HI! hope to go on the Continent, to attend the French Conference, to be
held this year at Lau.saime,"
Journal.
'■^ March 'M)th. — Mr. Osborn brought homo in health and safety two
(lays earlier than the exjiected time. Feel much relieved and thankful
that God has answered prayer on his behalf and his wife's. Preached this
morning at Clapton, and so endeavoured to fulfil the promise which Father
Booth wrung from me eighteen months ago. Felt some freedom while
proclaiming the Resurrection and the Life. Some of our fathers very
feeble. Mr. Bedford and Dr. Jobson both very unwell.
'^ April Ctl/i. — A busy week ; feel a little jaded, but thankful to be able
to work. Dear Mr. M'Arthur brought home in safety after a pilgrim-
age round the world. Troubled this week by a family matter vvliicli lias
caused me some anxiety. Nothing but the grace of (Jod can keep frcmi
slippery paths.
" Aj)ril 22iiil. — During the past few weeks have been muoli exercised in
mind, and much occupied in work. Our missionary ulfuirs trouble me.
4Ro
ir. MORLEY PUNSHON,
[CHAI'. XIX.
Wc nni larKoly in oxctHH of «iur iiiconu;, much inoro liirKoly thiiii our
i'rioiuiN (MUicfivp, iitid in tlu'Mt tinum it muoihh inipoKHihlit to iiicrt'iisf tliti
iiicouut. Vft rotrunchuiunt Ih iilwayH (litlicnlt, iiiul wc rJHk tlu; Iohh of w liat
liiiH iHutii ^tiiniHl by yuiii'H of toil.
" Mmj 1 1 tU. — Vory biwy liwt Hnbbnth, and tho days procediiiK and follow.
ing, with our annivei-sary. which hiw been intureHting and vahiablu, uiiil u
little more productive than UHual. Still in anxiety ulxiut miHHion matten,
Mr. Tyaok Muddcnly callotl away. Feel that I would like to live forCiiMl
ani 2'ird. — Preached to a large congregation at the Rue Roquf pino.
Wrote and rested in the afternoon, then attended the evangelistic service.
There were about thirty adults present, and a large number of restless
children. Went with Miss (I over Miss Leigh's Home in the Avenue
Wagram ; then to the Rue Pergolese, where Mi-s. (Jibson had i)rupare(l
tea for us. Afterwards had some sacred music, and walked back to tlie
Hotel.
" Maif 3()f the Hotel de Ville, the spot where
Jerome and Huss were martyred, and the outside of the Concilium's
Saal. in which the Councils of Constance were held.
"t/wne l.s7, Racatz. — A Sabbath without public service, but we held
one in our room. A naval captain, hearing of it, asked leave to be present,
and was very devout.
" June 3rd. — Stivrted at eight for a wonderful day's ride, through the
village of Sils, and up into the Schyn Pass — superb — an immense over-
hanging and richly-wooded chain of hills on one side, an almost fathom-
less depth below on the other. We came out near to Tiefenkasten, and
wended our toilsome way upward to Lenz above the snow-level, then dowu
[CHAK XIX. ■ ,879.]
MJSS HAVKRGAl..
481
ripling, thirty-five
by 11 gradual and lovely dcucont t
Through the hot desert of life'w parching day.
And weary pilgrimn drinking by the way,
Lif twl anointed heads — but thou art gone.
We marvel not — on earth thou could'st not Htay :
Here, envious discords jar, and make no chime ;
Here, frailty mocks the soul's attempts to climb;
Cold wakenings drive our blessed dreams away.
Earth was to thee ' a strange ' and captive ' land ' ;
'Mid drooping willows ' the Lowl's song ' was sung ;
But now the full praise rolls from loosened tongue
Where the crowned harpers in His presence stand.
We, listening, sit apart, and make our moan,
Hoping against hope still to catch the song,
Stirring the fresh airs all our hearts among ;
But silent is each well -remembered tone
Not silent ! nay, in other worlds, thy name
Waa whispered by the angels in their choir —
' Sweet minstrel, chastened spirit, come up higher ' —
And at the call their sister-spirit came.
Went from the joyous hills and tuneful sea,
The shrines of worship and the arks of love ;
Went to the temple and the home above,
All bright and stainless — fittest home for thee.
All true, and yet, sore pressed with inward pain,
We miss one helper to each purpose high.
And all the human in us makes reply.
And loves to linger on the sad refrain —
81
48a W. MORLRY PUNSHON. [chap. xix.
Gone from us — all too soon ! — yet rise wo higher,
Our God hath but reclaimed that which He lent ;
So let our dirge become our sacrament,
Plighted to heaven upon this broken lyre.
'•'•June, Ylih^ Lausanne, Hotkl Gihuon.— The Conference commenced.
" June \ 3//(. — At Conference. Dined with the ministers. We invited
them to tea. A good meeting, a blessed influence.
"June \[)tli. — Hoard M. Hocart preach an exquisite sermon in Freiii''
almost every word of whicli I understood. Went then to tlie Scotch
Church, and heard a faithful sermon from Mr. Buscarlct, the chaplain.
Preached at the Vale:itin in the afternoon from Col. ii. 1, 2, to a congre-
gation of 150 people. Remained at homo in the evening. A happy and
profitable Sabbath.
'■' June 22iul. — Preserved by a loving Providence through a month's
absence from home. The weather has favoured us. We have seen won-
derful scenery. I have renewed my acquaintance with the snow-clad Alps,
and have drunk in their m.ajesty and beauty. The journey has been a
restful one. Passed my birthday at the Rhine-falls, and our wedding-day
between Lausanne .and Dijon. Attended the District Meeting in Purls,
and the French Conference at Lausanne, and endeavoured to do some little
work for God. Feel very tliankful for the rest and change. Home to he
troubled about the exigencies of our missionary work, but willing to ca.st
all my care upon the Lord."
The Conference of 1879 met in Birmiugliam, under
the presidency of the Rev. Benjamin Gregory. Dr.
Punshon's home was with valued friends, and as his
public labours were comparatively light, it was a
pleasant time for him. During the three weeks of
the session he preached once and lectured once. He
was glad to avail himself of the opportunity of hear-
ing sermons, — on the first Sunday from Dr. Dale
and Mr. Holland, and on the second from Dr. Pope
and Mr. Tweddle. At the open session, when it is
customary to receive the representatives of other
Methodist Conferences, Dr. Punshon gave an accouut
of the work in France, and of his recent visit to the
French Conference at Lausanne.
[chap. XIX. I 1879.]
ILLNESS OF ELDEST SON.
4«.^
To llKV. A. II. Rkynak.
"RilYi., Aiif/iist 2',hul. — From home during the week in the north ; we held at
Newcastle a glorious Thanksgiving meeting. The enthusiasm great and
well-sustained, and the results gratifying. i;9,.")0<> from the two meetings
in Newcastle and Sunderland. Troubled about our missionary income.
We must have £26,000 within the next ten days if the income is to be
equal to that of last year. The Lord will surely undertake for us.
Suffering from indigestion, and oppressed with nervous fears — dissipated
when the Lord helped me, as He did thl? morning, to declare His word at
Blackheath."
To Rev. W. Hikst.
" Mirch 6th, 1880.
" We have just closed our accounts. It has been a week of great
anxiety, and I am none the better for it physically. On February 23rd we
were £2o,328 short from the districts. On the 28th, the last day of the
month, the deficiency had got down to £13,000. The next day, March Ist,
it had gone further down to £8,600, and now it is a little over £4,000. I
am glad it is no worse, but if you add to it £5,300 deficiency in legacies,
and between £2,000 and £3,000 in special donations, it is still serious
enough."
To Rev. A. H. Reynar.
" March 24/A, 1880.
'' I have plenty on my hands with mission work, and finance, a few
general administrative matters, and the Recorder. Mine is not an idle life,
and I should not wish it to be. Thank God for congenial work, and the
liope of a life beyond.
" We have trouble with Sir Isaac's will. One codicil was only attested by
one witness, and we cannot get the will proved without an action, thus
causing great delay and expense. There will be, I expect, £1,000 neod-
o.ssly taken out of the estate l)y this one omission, which wjus the fault of
the lawyer who drew the will, he being the one attesting witness. Money
is often more trouble than profit. It will be fully twelve months, I
expect, before anybody will receive anything. I am thankful that I care
comparatively little about these things. Church matters are looking up,
but finances are down everywhere, and we shall have many a long .sad
strugf_,le to put matters right in missions, schools, institutions, etc. The
Thanksgiving Fund is a wonderful success. It is likely to reach £.'500,000.
We are in the heart of election strife. I am ' calm on tumult's wheel,'
;liough hoping inwardly for a change of government.'"
490
fF. MORLKY PUNSHON.
JoUKNAI..
[chap. XIX,
^' Ain-il 18//«, IHHO.— On ThurHday week I left home for ii misMioiuiry
tour, iind Ninjiit Iiwt Suiidiiy in Uiihlin, and tho following dayM in Hclfiwt.
fJ(K)d niiBsionary moetingH and growing intercHt. liverywhere 1 find thi-
Hyuijjathy for inisMionH maintainud, but the funds languish. Tho elections I
over, — a decisive majority for tho Liberals all along the line. Thoy are
independent of tlio Homo Rulers, so that thoy nood not truckle to them.
This is a mercy. Several victims to the excitement of the contest, and
one sudden death among the newly elected members. ' What shadows wc
are, and what shadows we pursue ! '
'■'■ May X'ath. — Since my last entry have had tho excitement of the!
missionary anniversary, and worries of various kinds that have told rather
unfavourably upon my health. Felt worse in the pulpit this morning than
I liavo done for many months. Am sorely tempted about this recurring
'thorn in the flesh.' But 'Thou knowest, Lord, the wearines.s and [
sorrow.' "
To Mrs. May.
" May 20tK 1880.
" My heart is very full to-day, full of deep searchings, full of self-
abasement for a life but partially answering its end. I seem to look back |
upon years wasted, or crowded with unfulfilled purposes of good, torso-
statues of ideal beauty, never finished. I seem, like Grotius, to have]
spent my time in ' strenuously doing nothing.' The tears lie very near the
outlet, and a little would make them flow freely. But there's a wideness|
in God's mercy. . . . ' Grace to cover all my sin.' "'
To Rev. W. Hikst.
" June Gth, 18«l».
"Many thanks for your birthday greeting. The day was spent partly |
in Sheffield, and partly in Lincoln. It was a solemn one. All birthday]
joys are cha.stened in me as the years roll on. I think of myself as going
down the hill. ... I am not tired of life. T cling to it, as you know,
very closely, and would fain, if it were God's will, live even beyond the
threescore years and ten. But I want to say cheerfully and always,
" ' Lord, it belongs not to my care
"Whether I die or live.'
... I am glad you are coming to Peckham. yEneas wants Achates.
Things in general trouble me. I am below par, and my doctor orders nie I
off ; so I leave on Thursday (i>.v.) for a fortnight in the West of Ireland,'!
About this time Dr. Punshon's invalid son sailed
for Canada. The state of his health had improved!
[CHAP. XIX. ■,88o.]
Av; ioNaf':R young.
491
somewhat, and it was tlionght that the voyaf^e miglit
he of service to him. He liimself liad looked forward
wistfully to the possibility of visiting Canada once
I more, and in February had written to his brother-in-
law that there was nothing on earth he should like so
[well as to come and see him. He accordingly sailed
cu the 11th of June, spent a couple of months witii
friends amid the scenes of his former home, and re-
I turned, no worse, as it seemed, for the journey.
To Rk\ . A. H. llKVNAK.
"Gi.KNDAl.outill, ,/«;<(' i:W//, 1880.
" By tho time tins reaches you we hope and .suppose you will have seen
J. W. and lieard the latest news of us all. You will see him thin and
altered, but it is a great mercy that he has got through the winter so
well ; and we trust, if he will but be careful, the voyage may do him
I good, and prepare him for another winter. I think his mind is more
softened and reverent since his illness. We have certainly had mucli
comfort in him. I hope he will open his heart to you. Our prayers
follow him duly and daily. If you ?ee that the heat exhausts him, please
expedite his return.
" I have been somewhat worn down with work and worry, and felt that
my only chance of preparing for the fatigues of Conference lay in snatch-
ing a fortnight just now, so we accepted our good friend Alderman
MArthur's invitation to migrate to the wilds of Connemara, and are here
spending a sabbath quietly among the hills. We have worshipped this
morning, but not in a temple made with hands ; the nearest sanctuary
being a Roman Catliolic one. and tliat more than five miles away.
" I feel that I am no longer a young man. The weight of fifty-six
years, not unlal)orious, ])rosst's upon and sobers my spirit. And yet my
heart is young, and I have a keen reli.sh for life, with its stores of tlie
beautiful, and its siisceptibilitics of the true, and would fain work yet for
(lod and man, even until the allotted tale of years. Thank God for a
Saviour and a hope which, amid all my mistrusts and depressions, I con-
tinue to cherish aud to cling to ! "
JoCUNAL,
'•'' JnhjWth. — Another bereavement among my friends. Mr. J. M ,
who kindly entertained me a few weeks ago at Pontefract, has died, leaving
seven children. Affected much under a sermon to-night by dear Mr.
Hoyce, a sermon of much practical godliness and wisdom from ' Thou shalt
remember all the way, etc' The Conference is upon us I trust the
49«
rr. MORLEY PUNSHOM.
[clfAI'. XIX. ■l*,
and marked ovory man who had hihouro9
situation, with no house near, the snow pelting and penetratiiit,', and the
wind driving and howling. We remained there two hours, unable to get
forward, or to persuade the authorities to take ua back. At last we
mutinied, and insisted on being taken back to Rugby, wliero wo could
refresh and communicate with our friends. This was at length done, and
there I had to remain all night, reaching home a little after two to-day."
Journal.
^' Jamiary 2Qth. — Another stroke has fallen. lam again bereft. My
firstborn son, the object of so many fond hopes, deep anxieties, and
fervent prayers, died at Bournemouth to-night at G.45. The end came
with startling suddenness. Only the day before yesterday the doctor said
he would probably live a month or two. He has been mercifully preserved
from suffering acutely and protractedly. The letter written yesterday
which gave the first intimation of danger did not arrive until after the
telegram which announced his death. I have good hope that he is with
the Lord, and this is an unspeakable comfort. He was reticent on the
best things, but opened his mind to Mr. Ingram, Mr. Macdonald, to
Mrs. May, and lately to Percy. My only regret, since it was God's will
that he should go, is that I did not see him at the last. May this sorrow
move me to a deeper and holier consecration. My Lord and Saviour,
Thou Who hast redeemed me and mine, four of whom, I trust, are now
with Thee, hear and accept my vow." ,
To Rkv. a. H. Rkynau.
" January 26 '^r.ch little joy as may remain to them in life.
Much iiiiores i ^y i.^ ■ i>' that the faculties of each are utilised ; that
the idiots, who havo c'tti j.c'.'.t muscular stienlind are housed,
to them in life,
re utilised ; that
T the carriages of
• cases, the blind
; a good sermon
elle Vue to see
then somewhat
[Connexion, the
le work of God
|w days the old
)re be rung into
itful spirits he
I, and especially
the process of
|ut of his lump
ran down his
)y would never
lUcd to mind a
1881.]
TNCREA SED TL K .VESS.
50.^
intending to
ifort, through
clouds of dust and blasts of wind for about two niilus, until wo got to the
bottom of the ascent, then turned back ignominiously, and came by train
to Mentone.
" March 23rd. — How little do we know what is before us ! Retired to
bod restless and out of sorts. Was no worse than T had been aforetime
until, about half-past two in the morning, I was seized with a most severe
attack of difficulty in breathing, with crepitation, which continued in its
severity for nearly three hours. I do not think I could have lasted mucli
longer witliout relief. Had to send for a doctor ; got a little relief about
(} a.m. I liave not for a long time been nearer the eternal world. There
was, the doctor said, a good deal of bronchial congestion, and there was
some blood colouring the expectoration, accompanied, as in the attack at
Walsall, with heart disturbance and intermittent pulse."
Two or three days afterwards he was able to con-
tinue his journey, and with some difficulty reached
Genoa. From Sunday, the 27th, Dr. Pnushon grew
worse, and on the 29th his wife telegraphed to London
for Dr. Hill, his usual medical attendant. The doctor
arrived two days later, and under his care, and with
the kindly companionship of the liev. Hugh Johnston,
an old Canadian friend, the homeward journey was
begun. He had a presentiment that he should not
recover, and longed to reach home, that, if it were
God's will, he might die tliere. He boro the journey
to Turin fairly well, but complained of pain at the
back of the lungs. His physician made an examina-
tion, and found that there was congestion.
On Sunday, April 8rd, lie wrote one or two short
notes. In the afternoon he prayed with his wife, but
as night came on his suffering returned. Dr. Hill
sat up with him, and did what was possible to give
him relief. For his friend, and for his almost heart-
broken wife, it was a night of great distress.
Kecovering strength in some measure, another
stage of the journey was attempted, and Paris was
reached on the evening of the 5th. They found the
.S04
IV. MO R LEY PUNSHON.
[chap. XIX.
weather there damp and chill. After a day's rest he
came on to London, and with unspeakable relief
found himself in the home he had feared he should
not see again. He walked straight into his study, and
looked round with a smile of happy, restful satisfac-
tion, and at his wish Mr. Johnston offered thanks to
God for bringing them home in safety. A day or two
later. Dr. Radcliffe and Dr. Hill made a careful
examination of the lungs and heart, and were able to
hold out some hope of improvement.
On Sunday morning his wife read to him the Collect,
and Gospel and Epistle for the day. His spirit was
gentle and devout. Prayer was offered for him at
Brixton Chapel, and at his Tabernacle by Mr.
Spurgeon, who sent him a message of love and
sympathy, bidding him be of good cheer, and telling
him that his own seasons of sickness were times of
deep despondency. He spoke fieely with Mr. John-
ston of himself, and his hope in the Redeemer. He
said, — " I am not afraid to die, but I have a love of
life. ... It is the rapture of living. . . . I do not
like to think that my work is ended." His niece said
to him, *' Uncle, perhaps after this illness your health
will be better than ever.' ' He answered, " Yes, I have
heard of persons being better than ever after a serious
illness." Then, after a pause, he added, " But it may
lead to an entrance to the better world, of which I am
very unworthy ; but I expect, through the merits of
Jesus Christ, to enter in."
Towards the evening of Wednesday, the 13th, he
became restless, and got out of bed. He rested in au
easy chair, and did not return to bed again. It was
evident that he was very ill. Mr. Johnston again
[chap. XIX.
I88I.]
REST AT LAST.
505
L day's rest he
3akable relief
red he should
his study, and
istful satisfac-
red thanks to
A day or two
ide a careful
i were able to
m the Collect,
lis spirit was
d for him at
acle by Mr.
of love and
3r, and telling
were times of
ith Mr. John-
deemer. He
lave a love of
. I do not
is niece said
your health
' Yes, I have
'ter a serious
' But it may
>f which I am
le merits of
■he 13th, he
rested in an
■ain. It was
nston again
engaged in prayer, and he responded fervently to its
petitions. His friend said to him, ** Never fear,
dear doctor, you will have an abundant entrance into
the kingdom." His answer was, " I do not ask that.
Let me only have peace. My testimony is my life."
Shortly afterwards his colleague, Mr. Osborn, spent a
few minutes with him in prayer and spiritual com-
munion. The difficulty of breathing increased, and
turning to his wife he said, " My darling, if it were
not for you I should ask God to take me out of this
suffering; but for your sake I should like to live."
About one o'clock in the morning, as the doctor was
pouring out some medicine for him, he saw a change
come over the patient. " Am I going, doctv)r ? " he
asked. " Yes," was the answer. In her anguish his
wife said to him, " Oh, my darling, what have you
to say to me ? " He answered, " I have loved you
fondly; love Jesus, and meet me in heaven." His
second, now his eldest, son was with them. The
youngest was absent. His wife asked again, '* And
Percy, what message for him ? " " Tell him to meet
me in heaven." Then, looking upward, he added
with a firm voice and deeply reverent tone, " Christ
IS TO ME A BRIGHT REALITY. Jesus ! Jesus ! " There
was a smile, as of kindling rapture, then his head
drooped, and William Morley Punshou entered into
rest.
He died early in the morning of Thursday, April
14th, 1881, within a few weeks of the completion of
his fifty- seventh year.
The news of his death was wholly unlooked-for, and
pained surprise mingled with the sorrow that was
everywhere called forth. At first it was hoped that
«;o6
TV. MORLEY PUNSTTON.
[CHAP. XIX,
188
there was some mistake, but when the tidings wero
coiilirined, there was a feeling of sometliiug Hko
national regret, and throughout the Methodist
CI lurches a grief such as had not been known for a
generation or more. By almost every section of tlie
press, and every class in the community, tributes of
esteem were paid to his memory. Expressions of
sympathy poured in upon the bereaved household
from every side.
On Thursday, the 19th of April, he was buried in
Norwood cemetery. The body was first borne to
Brixton Hill Chapel, where through many varying
years he had ministered, and been ministered to, in
the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. The chapel
was filled with ministers and laymen from all parts of
the country, a congregation profoundly touched with
a common grief. The service was conducted by the
Revs. F. J. Sharr, Dr. Bigg, Hugh Johnston, and
M. C. Osborn. The President of the Conference, the
Rev. E. E. Jenkins, delivered an address, in which,
after referring to other losses recently sustained, he
said : —
evol
biitl
for
1*'H
taiii
this!
reqil
audi
froni
char
imef
Sam|
has
pierc
ledgi
prin(
worn
work
and
reiue
tliat
even
strair
^ift fi
not oi
practi
" In each of tlie cases I have mentioned the stroke was partly broken by
the premonition of its approach ; but in this instance it descended upon
us ahuost without warning. We were secure in our possession and in our
hojjc at one moment, and in the next our lioiise was left unto us desolate.
There had been, as you are aware, considerable, but we scarcely believed
ominous, physical derangement ; but there was no doubt in the mind of
any one of us, including, I believe, his medical adviser, that perfect and
prolonged rest would bring back to their wonted tone a heart strained to
exhaustion by sorrow and care, and a mind overtaxed, not only by ofMcial
obligations, but by engagements to help everybody and every cause, made
in fatal forgetfulness of self. We know now that the provision for repose,
to which we compelled our dear colleague to consent, ought to have been
made several months ago, and would have been made but for the stubborn
reluctance with which he received every proposal to go out of harness
■;isfe
[chap. XIX.
tidings vvero
inotliiiig like
) Methodist
known for a
action of tlie
y, tributes of
cpressions of
id household
as buried in
rst borne to
lany varying
stered to, in
The chapel
u all parts of
ouched with
Licted by the
hnston, and
ferenoe, the
in which,
istained, he
mrtly broken by
escended upon
ision and in om*
ito us desolate,
ircely believed
in the mind of
at perfect and
art strained to
only by official
ry cause, made
ion for repose,
t to have been
r the stubborn
ut of harness
1881.]
THE PRRSTDENT S ADDRESS.
S07
even for a week ; and even his holidays were not seasons of relaxation,
but variations of toil. His public movomunts were watched, IiIh resting
for a night in town or village was an event for the Methodists in the
place, a service was exacted, and the largest rooms to be had were ob-
tained and crowded with people anxious to hoar the great orator. It was
this tension of energy, never relaxed, never graduated to meet just the
requirements of a service — for he gave out all his strength, whether the
audience numbered 5()0 or 6,000 ; — it was this prodigal expenditure of force
from a very early period of his remarkable career, and during a life
cliarged with the excitements, the anxieties, and the vicissitudes of an
iine(iualled popularity, that bowed down in the prime of his life the
Samson of our Israel. There is no groxmd for surprise at the event which
lias made the Connexion at home and abroad mourn as one man, and has
pierced the hearts of multitiides who belong to other churches acknow-
ledging Christ our common Head, and who share our loss in that a
prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel. We may rather
wonder, in reviewing calmly Dr. Punshon's career, and recalling the
work which he did during a ministry of thirty-six years in this country,
and in Canada, and America, the (piality of liis work and its results, and
reuiembering his acute per8f)nal suft'erings and bereavements and gi-iefs,
that enter into a man's heart and life, — I say, we may rather wonder,
even with strength such as he possessed, that he did not under such a
strain collapse long ago. In Dr. Punshon our Church possessed a rare
gift from the Father of lights. His mind possessed two classes of faculties,
not often found together in eminent prominency — the imaginative and the
practical ; and an imperious intellect governed both, giving to the imagina-
tive power a definite wo.-k, and to the practical a logical coherency and
consistency. The surpassing endowment of his youth was memory, and
it made his mind a vast storehouse of knowledge, much of it in the very
word-form in which it was acquired. He not only forgot nothing, but he
commanded everything he had learned. It is not unlikely, though I can-
not speak with precise knowledge, tliat in the time of his earlier growth
his memory somewhat fettered the action of liis other powers ; these, at
any rate, asserted themselves conspicuously in his later years, when called
into use by the various responsibilities of official life. The gifts which I
have mentioned, when there is a commanding physique, make the orator ;
or, if education and opportunity concur, the statesman ; or, if tiistes and
the success of earlier attempts determine it, the poet. William Morley
Punshon selected none of these professions ; he was led by the star of
Providence to 'the place where the young Child lay,' and brought the
tribute of his life, the gold, the frankincense, and the myrrh of his genius,
and placed them at the feet of Jesus, all unconscious of the worth of his
offering ; and if he had suspected it, he would have considered it too mean
to merit his Lord's acceptance.
5o8
W. MORI.EY PUNSHON.
[chap. XIX.
18)
':!
" Tlio calling of a Muthodist preachur waa the first and last distinoti'Mi of
liis life ; ho iispirod to no loftier place upon earth than the Methodist
pulpit, and it noon became apparent that God had raised up a lueHHuiigcr
ttt the Churches endowed with exceptional power. I believe ho had litt'
professional training for the pulpit ; but, whether eminence were grant
to him or denied to him, ho purposed, by Divine help, to show hiniseu
approved unto God, a workman that needoth not to be ashamed, rightly
dividing the word of truth. Ho know there was no royal road to pulpit
power ; he knew that, being called into the ministry, the pulpit waa the
central position of his calling, and not a stepping-stone to something else.
He was sometimes found elsewhere, but ho brought with him the inspira-
tion of the preacher, and rendered elocpient service out of the pulpit in
the cause of the pulpit. He would have doomed his life a failure, if not
a mockery, if, whatever else had prospered, his pulpit had failed ; his most
careful work, and his chief joy to the last was preaching Jesus. . . . The
bearing of his mind towards the sceptical spirit of the day was equally
remarkable ; happily for the power and usefulness of Dr. Punshon's
ministry, he had no intellectual sympathy with doubt ; but he had much
gympathy with doubters whose distnist was timid, and tentative, aiu
anxious, not because of any reserved questioning of his own, but men
solicitude of this class appealed to hia love and honesty, and his tend.,
ness for distress. Moreover, his mind waa too large and too generous to
consider everybody in the wrong place who did not stand just where he
stood, or who reached this standpoint by other steps than those which
had conducted him to his position. In his own case between conviction
of sin and the cross of Jesus he lost nothing, either by loitering in in-
decision or by hesitation in reasoning, and he proclaimed a salvation
not discovered by reason, but manifested to faith. He believed with a
kind of untutored simplicity, and preached results rather than processes ;
and he preached to the people, and for the people, and although he
sometimes soared high or dived deep, it waa aeldom in pursuit of ab-
stract ideas ; in such instances as I have referred to he was generally
following the issue of some well-known tnith, demolishing the hopeless
security of the sinner, or letting in a new light upon the spirit of the
inquirer. Wherever his mind led his hearers, he was never in a mist. He
had his own stylo, and it waa not another's ; it was the visible image of
his own mind, a body that grew out of it and not a robe woven for it.
An imitator may take the picture-words of this great preacher, and use
them, and be unintelligible, as well as ridiculous. He was never vague,
and his language, though never so uncommon, his robust sense, and uH'
affected earnestness made eloquent expression contribute to the clear
ness and force of his meaning, and at times, when under the sway of
strong fooling, his style assumed an extraordinary simplicity and com
pression and vigour. ... I never know Dr. Punshon intimately until my
»P1
»P1
Uni
vaf
[chap. XIX.
d last di8tincti'< 1
,'rie^
fallei
lakei
[chap. XIX.
I88I.]
LETTERS OF FRIENDS.
5'i
The Council of tlio Evanj^elical Alliance.
Tho Laniboth Auxiliary of the Sunday School Union.
The Directors of the Star Life Assurance Association.
The Directors of the Wesleyan Methodist Ne .spaper Company.
The London Ministers' Meeting.
Tho Belfast Ministers' Meeting.
The Quarterly Meeting of the Kensington, Lambeth, and Shetlield,
(Norfolk Street) Circuits.
The Wesleyan Missionary Committee.
— The Home Missionary Committee.
id beneVOlentJThe Wesleyan Education Committee.
I Canada UlOreBThe Metroiwlitan Chapel Building Fund Committee.
The Committee for the Extension of Methodism.
The Book Committee.
The Committee of the Children's Home.
The veneral)lel
appy intimacy
B had rendered!
of him as al
if graceful andj
Lmost peerless,
their ministryl
lectures. His
.nd he loved so
bhe represeuta-
ition. '* There
Some indication of the extent to which Dr. Punshon
was held in affection and esteem is furnished by the
bh a particular|jg^^gj,g ^^ sympathy that were addressed to Mrs.
Punshon after his death. They number several
hundreds, and, while differing widely in various
respects, they fasten with wonderful unanimity upon
some few traits of his character. His humility and
imseliishness, his iuterest iu the things of others, his
kindliness and lovable goodness, — these were the
qualities that knit the hearts of his friends to him,
and to which they refer with every variety of expres-
sion. Other letters speak more of his public character
and labours, and of the loss sustained in his removal.
The few which can appear here must be chiefly of the
the loliowmg \^^i^^^^ class. They are a tribute and a testimony tliat
can neither be recorded in detail nor entirely passed
over.
FUOM RkV. C. H. Si'UKllKO.N.
'' Ai>nl l'.»