The life...

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I

THE LIFE

Preface

The beneficial uses of biography generally, are, it is presumed, too fully admitted to require any apology for adding another Memoir to the number of those already before the church and the world.

Still, however, it may be necessary to make a few prefatory remarks, relative to the Continuation of the Autobiography of the Rev. Henry Moore.

There can be no doubt but that Mr. Moore fully purposed carrying on the narrative he had begun: — but the intention only existed, for he wholly delayed addressing himself to the task, till " procrastination, the thief of time," brought him to a period of life when the duty of doing it pressed itself painfully upon his mind, but the physical ability to accomplish the task no longer existed: Mr. Moore was attacked with paralysis, which nearly took away the use of his right hand.

In this perplexity, while conversing on the subject with the writer of the following pages, Mr. Moore deeply regretted the non-accomplishment of the task, but feelingly added —

PREFACE.

"My right hand has now lost its cunning; I have neither strength in it to tear up many papers which ought not to survive my death, nor power to extract from others what should form the basis of the most important period of my life : besides — my papers are all unarranged, owing to many removals ; and without going over the whole mass of documents, I could not find any I might desire ; nor in fact do I know either their extent, nor in what they consist : I could give all the necessary information for the Continuation of my Autobiography, for my memory on all points is clear ; but I could not do the work : I could not do it," repeated the good man, pointing to his nearly disabled hand, "but I have thought of you ; will you be my right hand ? and thus lessen the painful regret I feel for not having while able redeemed my pledge to the public, and given to the church of God some history of those events and processes by which, as a people, we were for so many years so singulary upheld, even 'while without were fightings, and within were fears.'"

The conversation ended with a strongly, and a kindly urged request, that his friend would undertake the task ; and he would accept of no refusal, until a trial had been made.

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The work was gradually brought down through its different periods, (all the papers having been given up for this purpose,) and the different portions of manuscript .were left with Mr. Moore for his perusal and judgment ; and very carefully did he examine every sheet, adding occasionally a few lines of his own to the manuscript, and at any important fact signing his name ; till eventually, about a year before his death, he returned the manuscript to his friend, signifying his approval of it, and expressing his satisfaction that the long promised task was accomplished, familiarly observing, " It only makes me look too handsome." The manuscript, from his ninetieth to his ninety-first birth-day, was still in Mr. Moore's charge when he was seized with that fit from the effects of which he never recovered.

In having been thus far more than sanctioned by Mr. Moore himself, the writer of his Continued Memoir feels less of that difficulty which would otherwise have been experienced, had the acting spirit of the whole not pointed out the varied movements of time, place, and circumstance ; and thus opened up, it is hoped, a clear escape from the imputation of party feeling.

The illustration of truth, and fact, have been the object both of inquiry and state-

PREFACE.

ment ; and these have, as far as possible, been given without note or comment, wishing that they may strike every mind by the light of its own judgment, without either gloss or shading. Should, however, this picture of Wesleyan Methodism appear new to any reader, he is requested to consult the early printed documents of the body of Christians with which Mr. Moore was united ; and at the same time to remember, that he was, owing to his greatly protracted life, a moving spring of that system, of whose early details the reader may have heard but little ; but of the history of which, in so far as it has been narrated in the succeeding Memoir, the writer has sincerely wished and labored " Nothing to extenuate, nor set down aught in malice."

A new feature in a volume of biography has been adopted in this work, by placing the date of the occurrence of the subjects related, and the age of Mr. Moore, in the first line of each successive page ; which it is hoped, and believed, will add considerable interest to the work itself. A full index has also been added to the work.

Stoke Neivington, August, 1844.

Introduction

Shortly after the commencement of my religious course, my mind became so entirely occupied with a consciousness of my guilty state before God, that no intention of recording any of the particulars of the mercy which I sought had place in my thoughts. But when it pleased the God of all grace to reveal his Son in me, and to turn my heaviness into joy, I seemed to consider it as my duty to make known to my perishing fellow-sinners, " That height and depth of love which is in Christ Jesus our Lord," —

" Whose blood can make the foulest clean, Whose blood avail'd for me."

This sense of duty increased, as I read, from time to time, the records of those who have thus given glory to God ; and which accounts have generally been very profitable to me, encouraging me to persevere "to forget the things behind, to reach forth to those things

that are before, and to press to the mark for

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the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." But hitherto I never had freedom of mind to act upon this conviction, or to comply with the request of those whom I greatly respected.

But I am now inchned to believe that the time is come ; my day is far spent, and therefore, unless I leave it to others, concerning which I have many and opposite fears, I may not delay to give at least an abridged account, that may, by the blessing of the Lord, be helpful to those " who are coming up out of the wilderness leaning upon their Beloved."

London, January 12, 1830.*

The Autobiography was first published at the period of this date.

THE

LIFE OF HENRY MOORE.

Book I. From His Birth To His Marriage. [1751—1779.]

I was born in the suburbs of the city of Dublin, on the twenty-first day of December, 1751. My parents lived in Drumcondra, about a mile from the city. My father, Richard Moore, son of Henry Moore, lived on a farm which had been in the family for nearly a century, and to which he succeeded on the death of my grandfather, being his only surviving son. He maintained his family, partly by the produce of his meadows — which were very rich — and partly by the cattle which he bought when young, and fed on a part of the meadows ; thus uniting the occupations of farmer and grazier. He also derived an increase to his income by the ground-rent of several houses which were built on that part of his premises which skirted the great North Road. He was much respected, — not only in his neighborhood, but throughout the county ; partly, as I was informed, by his family being considered as a branch of the Drogheda family, (but I never heard it mentioned by my father,) and chiefly, I believe, by some valuable qualities which he was believed to possess, — especially great probity, and considerable personal courage, which he had manifested on several occasions, when the neighborhood was in danger from robbers.

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He died in the month of June, 1763, before I was twelve years old ; yet I remember him perfectly, and can even now call to mind his conversations, which were often very interesting. As I was also his only surviving son, his care seemed much engaged about me. He had received some learning in his youth, and retained a considerable sense of it in his advanced age ; he therefore seemed to set his heart upon giving me all the advantages, in this respect, which were in his power. In pursuance of his design, after I had been some time at a commercial school, he put

me, at nine years of age, under the care of the Rev.

Williamson, minister of St. Paul's, Oxmantown, and chaplain to the royal barrack, who was celebrated for his classical attainments and general learning.

I made some progress in Latin, so that I received the premium in the second form, at the Christinas examinations, a few days before I was eleven years old. I then began with the Greek language, and my youthful prospects seemed very fair ; but they were suddenly clouded in the course of the following year, by the death of my father, of a rheumatic fever, in the forty-seventh year of his age. My mother was thus left a widow with five children, of whom I was the second, and the only son. She outlived my father twenty-eight years ; and had, before her death, the honor of entertaining Mr. Wesley at her house, in his last visit to Ireland.

My mother was a woman of good understanding, remarkable simplicity of spirit, and strong affection ; she also possessed much of the fear of God, and was strongly attached to the Established Church, as was my father also, and their ancestors. She had, at my father's death, no prospect of supporting her family, but by letting the land, which enabled her to live comfortably. She was, however, afraid to continue my expensive education ; and, listening to the advice of her friends, she put me again to

LIFE OF HENRY MOORE.

a commercial school, all thoughts of a learned profession being laid aside.

As my father died just before the midsummer vacation, I accordingly was not sent when the school reassembled. Mr. Williamson was, I believe, much concerned at this. Having conceived an affection for my father, he wished to have me still under his care. One day, when I returned from school, I found the Rev. Daniel, Mr. Williamson's usher, sitting with my mother, and I was much affected at seeing him. He spoke kindly to me, and soon took his leave. My mother then informed me, that he was sent by Mr. Williamson with a kind proposal, — that I should again be put under his care, — that he would charge nothing for my education, and would also be my friend at the university, where he was highly honored. This proposal was to be kept an entire secret from the school. My mother had yielded, being overcome by the kindness of this excellent man, and / heard the proposal with great joy. I never can forget the moment of my appearance in the play-ground : I was surrounded by the whole school, with such shouting, and joyful acclamations, that I remember it as one of the happiest days of my early life.

My preceptor was as kind to me as could be anticipated from this beginning. He examined me himself, and in a little time put me into a higher form, which increased my advantages. I continued with him while he kept the school ; but this second fair prospect became at length clouded. He was intimate with several of the fellows of Trinity College, who used frequently to attend his school, and were the stated examiners for premiums : especially Dr. Wilson, a senior fellow, who (when several years after he retired on one of the college livings, which are reckoned the best in the kingdom) invited Mr. Wesley to his church and house, and treated him with great respect. By these learned men, Mr. Williamson was persuaded to

LIFE OF HENRY MOORE.

give up his school, and read for a fellowship, as it is called ; that is, to prepare for the examination which always precedes the election of a junior fellow. It is well known that those examinations are the most public, the most severe, and the most awful to the candidates, of any which are held at any university in Europe. They are attended by the archbishop of Dublin, with all the dignitaries ; and all the clergy who choose may also attend. And, besides the professors, (who are the regular examiners in the various departments, classical, mathematical, and philosophical,) every master of arts has the privilege of putting any question he may think proper. Generally, from eight to twelve candidates enter the arena. The examinations last several days, but seldom more than two continue to the end ; and the successful candidate often pays for his honors by a severe illness. A junior fellowship is a settlement for life : they succeed to the senior fellowships in rotation, and the seniors to the college livings, in the same way ; unless any should prefer to remain at the university. Several of the fellows have risen to the highest stations in the church, and some of them from a low origin. The present archbishop of Dublin, Dr. M'Gee, thus obtained a fellowship ; as did also the late bishop of Killala, who became celebrated by a very interesting account of the invasion of his diocese by the French, under General Humbert. Even an unsuccessful candidate is noted all his life after, as one (to use the common phrase) who has gone in for a fellowship.

Mr. Williamson having acted upon the advice of his learned friends, I was once more set at melancholy liberty. He did not, however, suffer me to depart without a private interview ; in which he gave me the kindest advice, put me in mind of my father's views concerning me, and pressed me to continue my studies, assuring me that I might depend upon his friendship in that line. But this benevo-

LIFE OF HENRY MOORE.

lent man did not live to realize his hope respecting the university, or to be of any service to me. He died, not long after, of a violent fever. His death much affected me.

After staying at home for a short time, my mother put me under the care of an artist, — a carver, a man of great respectability ; of whose kindness, with that of his family, I entertain to this day a grateful remembrance. His kindness, however, was ill-repaid by me ; for although I do not remember that I was ever unfaithful to any trust which he reposed in me, yet I was very careless of the business ; minding only my books, except in the hours when I was obliged to labor. My heart was set upon learning ; it was my idol. I used frequently to dream that I was at school again, and awaked only to weep. I even left his care, in

hope that I might be sent to the Rev. Daniel, already

mentioned, who had opened a school about thirty miles from Dublin. But I could not resist the tears of my mother, whom I tenderly loved, and consented to return to my sorrowful employment.

My engagement with my friendly master expired while I was yet very young; and when I was only nineteen years of age, I determined to go to London, of which I had heard much from the workmen whom my master occasionally employed. My mother had many fears concerning me : but at length she consented, as I pleaded that I could not hope to arrive at great eminence in my profession if I stayed in Dublin. I accordingly set out, without a friend, or even a companion, and in four days arrived in London, not knowing how I should live, or to whom to apply. But a gracious Providence was over me, and I obtained occupation as soon as I applied for it.

I soon became acquainted with several young men in the same line, and with some of them I became very intimate ; so that there was something like friendship between us. But they were like myself, without God in the world. Our

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leisure, and even our sabbaths, and sometimes the hours which ought to be spent in necessary employment, were consumed in what is usually called pleasure. The parks, Vauxhall, Ranelagh, and especially the theatres, of which I was a passionate admirer, quite intoxicated me ; so that the name of Garrick, in a play-bill, would make my heart vibrate with delightful anticipation. I lost, in a great measure, my relish for my former studies, and seemed to be sinking into depravity. Yet, strange to say, while I was thus devoted to sinful pleasure, I still held fast an integrity which seemed innate, and as if it could not be sinned away. I have disputed, and almost quarreled, with my most intimate companions, about their being involved in debt ; while I chose to bear many privations, rather than offend against that high moral sense that seemed to possess me. But I doubt not this also would have yielded, if I had continued in my rebellion against God, and I should have sunk into complete depravity. I continued in this vortex of dissipation till I was nearly of age, at which time I should have a sum of money to receive, the savings of my minority ; and wishing much to see my mother and sisters, I returned to Dublin.

I was received most affectionately ; and my old master also manifested much good will, and gladly employed me. But my mind became more than ever averse to this vocation. I spent much of my time in reading, with frequent illapses into idleness and dissipation. The sight of the university had a painful effect upon me. I sometimes attended the college chapel, and often took a melancholy Avalk in its beautiful park. I became at times much dejected, but saw no way open to gratify those ambitious desires which possessed me ; and I at length resolved to return to London. This was a great disappointment to my mother, who wished to see me settle in business : but she was again induced to consent to my departure, upon the old plea, or

Ym-AgeZl. LIFE OF HENRY MOORE.

rather excuse, my greater improvement in the art which I professed. Accordingly, without staying more than a year at home, I again crossed the sea, and in a few days arrived in safety in the metropolis.

I soon got into my old circle, and made the same attempt to be happy in that which is only earthly. But I found still more painful disappointment. Serious convictions revived in my mind, and I felt that " the end of those things is death ;" though, alas ! I generally sought refuge in dissipation from those unwelcome intruders ; while my usual companions were too ready to strengthen me in this " deceivableness of unrighteousness." However, I now got acquainted with some who were of a different character. They were what is called "high professors of religion;" but I did not like their spirit. They were, as I thought, self-sufficient, and spoke more of privilege than of duty. They were also very censorious, and seemed utterly to despise those who differed from them. This I knew not how to bear ; and consequently I could get no good from them. But there was one young man to whom I could object nothing, except that he seemed to carry his religion to a great extreme. I now believe that he was sincerely and altogether devoted to God. I found, by conversing with him, that he was in Mr. Wesley's connection. He died about a year after I became acquainted with him; and although I was at that time very ignorant of the nature of true religion, yet I had no doubt of the salvation of pious William Gibson.

Through him I got, or rather was confirmed in, a good opinion of the Wesleyan Methodists. I had heard Mr. Wesley in Dublin some years before, and his venerable appearance much impressed me. I thought he was a good man ; but I was much disappointed in his preaching. I imagined that a public speaker, and especially a reformer, ought to be an orator ; and I had formed my ideal portrait from heathen models. I thought it strange that a man who spoke with such simplicity should make such a noise in the world ; and the luminous exposition, and powerful enforcement, which used to have such an effect upon me in following years, seemed to pass over me in that day of ignorance. Yet, strange to say, I remembered more of his sermons than I did of any which I heard in my whole life. One thing I perfectly comprehended, — that he preached a present salvation. This astonished me, as I had always thought that religion could not be obtained but by a long and painful process ; and I had no conception that all things were ready. But his observations and arguments were so penetrating, that I seemed obliged to receive the great truth which he enforced. The remembrance of this was of great use to me afterward, when I was humbled and brought to give more heed to " the things which make for our peace."

I now began to attend occasionally at the Methodist chapels in London ; where I heard Mr. Charles Wesley and Mr. James Morgan. The former I attended to with great respect, as being a clergyman ; but his vehement, and what my folly pronounced, his headlong elocution, — ■ the art of preaching being set at utter defiance, — did not suit that cold attention which was all I could then give to the ministry of any man : although with respect to him, every sentence seemed an aphorism. Mr. Morgan I much admired : the ease of his manner, and the studied sobriety of his discourses, just suited my inquiring mind ; but they seemed to have no other effect. I forgot them almost as soon as I heard them. I also occasionally attended at the Lock chapel, where I heard Mr. de Coetlegon and Mr. Madan. I sometimes had gracious drawings from the Spirit of God, and while these lasted I used to pray. But, " what reason," (in its highest meaning,) " wove, by passion was undone." I was still unregenerate, and, consequently, under the power of sin ; and I had a rooted opinion, that prayer was hypocrisy, and must be offensive to God, unless while we were entirely devoted. Any interruption, therefore, to my religious course, was followed by prayerless weeks, or even months. Alas ! I knew not the Friend of sinners, nor had I any clear conception of the power of his atonement and mediation. I thought, if I could be good, (which I considered as being in my own power, and that it was previously required,) I might pray to be enabled to persevere ; but I had no conception of that which I afterward found was the doctrine of the Church of England, — that it was necessary that "the grace of God by Christ should prevent us, that we may have a good will," as well as " work with us when we have that good will." So proud, even while yet so rebellious, was my heart !

I grew very uneasy, and my wretched state of mind was increased by a providential occurrence, which was the occasion of my returning to Ireland, and which the Lord overruled for my good. Besides the farm which my father inherited from his father and grandfather, the rents of which my mother received, he had a freehold, which as his eldest, and, at his death, his only son, came to me exclusively. This had fed my expenses since I became of age, and had too much encouraged me in my idle notions. This freehold I left in the care of a young man, who had been one of the companions of my youth, and was then in business for himself, as an attorney. He was unfaithful to his trust, and neglected to pay that attention to the tenant (an extravagant gentleman) which he ought to have done. He also suffered him to get greatly in arrears with the ground landlord, and his bankruptcy at length completed my difficulties. I was in debt on all hands, as I depended on a continuance of the supplies which the profit rents of the freehold afforded me. This I could not bear:

LIFE OF HENRY MOORE.

and, contrary to the wishes of my mother and friends, I sold the freehold, and paid my debts ; so that a share which I had in the farm was then my only property. My loss in this respect proved, in the hands of the gracious Redeemer, good medicine to heal my sickness ; for I had intended to visit France, where perhaps destruction awaited me.

After a residence of three years in London, I returned to Ireland in the summer of 1776, — the last year, glory be to God ! of my rebellion against him. I was received with great joy by my mother, and my other relatives and friends. Notwithstanding my aversion to the art which I professed, and consequent illness, I was, even to my own surprise, greatly improved in it. My work was admired, and it was thought I might soon retrieve all that I had lost, and even attain to the higher walks of my profession. But I was weary of the world, and received impressions which nothing earthly could satisfy. I was, however, more than ever convinced of the necessity, and high duty, of industry and frugality, and seemed bent on making the best of that property which remained. My convictions " of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment," increased, and became more painful ; and I longed for deliverance from " this body of sin and death," though I knew not how it was to come : yet I seemed to expect much from the mercy of God.

I was religiously inclined from my infancy. When very young, I used often to think on the day of judgment, and frequently dreamed that it was come : and this brought such an habitual dread of God upon my mind, as judge of the world, that I used to look out for a place where I might hide myself from his face, whom I seemed always to behold as sitting upon the throne, and calling the quick and dead before him. Like a true son of fallen Adam, I used to thrust myself into a thick hazel hedge, in one of my father's fields, and stay there a long time, watching to see whether any passenger could spy me out. But winter, by dissipating the leaves, made my rural retreat pervious, and I was obliged to look out for another hiding place. I used often to lament that there were no Protestant monasteries ; for I thought it impossible to live in the world and be saved ; and I am sure that, for several years of my youth, I would gladly have left all in the world, for the hope of eternal life. Vain hope ! to leave all the creatures, if that were possible, and yet retain my old, unchanged nature ! But I was not wholly left to the " terrors of the Lord." I had, at times, some sweet discoveries of Christ, as having come into the world to save sinners. At one time especially, when I was about fourteen years old, I was so affected with an impression of that kind, that " my head was as waters, and my eyes as fountains of tears !" I believe this visitation was from God ; and it had such an effect upon me, that I persevered for some time in a religious course, with fasting and prayer, which I concealed from every person. But my fervor in trying to serve God abated, as my corrupt nature prevailed. I lost the power, and with it— my confidence in God, and returned to carelessness and vanity.

But I return to my narrative.

Soon after my arrival in Dublin, I was sitting one day by myself, at my eldest sister's, (afterward Mrs. Timms,) the family being all gone out, when I cast my eyes on a New Testament, with Burkitt's Commentary, which lay on the table. Some time before I left London, I met with a man who was very zealous for Calvin's system, which he pressed upon me with all his heart. I resisted upon the common ground, namely, that absolute predestination destroyed the moral character of God ; and that salvation, so conferred, would be mere creaturely partiality, and not infinite justice. " But," said he, " it is in the Bible, and that is the word of God ; and it is your carnal and proud reason which opposes it. Read the Epistle to the Romans; you will find the doctrine fully stated there." This struck me at the time, but the impression soon passed away. On seeing the New Testament lie on the table, the conversation just mentioned rushed into my mind, and I thought, I will search out this doctrine ; and I immediately commenced reading the Epistle to the Romans, in order to find out absolute predestination.