C
A 557210
DUPL

103
ARTES
1817
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
PLUMINIUS VERM
TUE BOR
SI-QUÆRIS-PENINSULAM-AMŒNAME
CIRCUMSPICE
IJI JA
THE GIFT OF
J.H.Russell

PB Bedford
Weenere
AIND
ham Yours Sincerely
10. Beaumont
London Hamilton: Adams & C
THE LIFE
OF THE
REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M.D.
BY HIS SON,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT, ESQ.
LONDON:
HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., 33 PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDCCCLVI.
3
3-7-34-83
+
ΤΟ
MY MOTHER, SISTERS, AND BROTHERS,
WHO WILL BEST KNOW,
AND YET WILL MOST READILY EXCUSE ITS DEFECTS,
THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED.
IT NARRATES POORLY SOMETHING OF THE LIFE
AND ATTEMPTS
TO DISPLAY THE NOBLE CHARACTER OF ONE WHO WAS
OUR LIFE AND LIGHT,
WHOSE LOVE AND BEAUTIFUL DEVOTION
NOT ONLY CONSTANTLY SUSTAINED OUR STEPS
BUT RICHLY STREWED OUR PATHS WITH FLOWERS OF HAPPINESS-
MA NULLO PRATO HA SI FRESCA VERDURA
CHE LI SUOI FIORI NON CANGINO STATO."
$
2
1
th
#
gift
1
GH Russell
6-1-33
PREFACE.
THE pages of this book contain a narrative of the life and
an endeavour to express the thoughts and delineate the cha-
racter of a man so widely known and so much beloved that,
were it only intended for the eyes of the large classes who
are familiar with and interested in his public life or who
cherish his memory as that of a loved and valued friend, its
publication would be amply justified. But he was also
so complete a man-so lofty and vigorous was his mind, so
sincere and noble his heart, so ardent and refined were his
feelings, so gentle and loving was his life, so devoted and ex-
emplary were his labours, and so harmoniously and grace-
fully were all these blended that, if I had only the gifts re-
quisite to accomplish such a task, I should wish no better
subject for a biographical portraiture of the class to which
this professes to belong.
It does not of course assume any of the semi-historical
importance which attaches to the lives of men who have
taken a great and leading part in the conduct of affairs, or
who have commanded the sympathies of the world by their
masterly genius. This in truth constitutes a peculiar diffi-
culty in such a work as that which I here introduce with feel-
ings that I cannot pretend to conceal-feelings not, certainly,
akin to vanity or even to personal sensitiveness, but such as
are prompted by filial piety. For I cannot but be full of anxiety
lest I should with a too unskilful hand distort or hide the fea-
tures which I desire to represent most faithfully, both because
it is a duty (in this case most sacred) so to do and because I
am well satisfied that it would require a very skilful hand
1
vi
PREFACE.
indeed to add to or vary them in any respect which should not
be a detraction rather than an improvement.
I feel fully the difficulty of writing a life such as I have
undertaken, whether I look within or beyond the limited
though extensive circles to which I have alluded. I cannot
attract from the general reader the attention which is due to
the actions and transitions of an eventful life. I cannot call
any of the adventitious charms of social position, the gossip
of the great world or strange or novel circumstances to my
aid. I cannot properly make my professed subject, as is
often done, a mere foundation on which may be erected a
superstructure of various literary matters incidentally or for-
cibly connected with it. I can only rely on the great quali-
ties which that subject possessed as they were displayed in a
laborious and important, but an unromantic and unvaried
life. Still, if I could represent harmoniously all the gifts and
graces of manhood and of Christianity which distinguished
my father and the embodiment of these in his external life, I
should not despair of leading the world to recognise my work
as one worthy of a permanent place in biographical literature.
Men do not fail to feel and acknowledge the command which
genuine piety and goodness, conjoined with high intellectual
attainments and an upright, manly character, has a right to
exercise, or to pay the homage which a life of devotedness and
single-hearted labour in the path of duty-even in a sphere
far less prominent than that which my father occupied-is
entitled to.
This however I cannot hope that I have accomplished. To
paint the real life of such an one requires gifts of many and
rare kinds to which I do not make any pretensions, and I
must be satisfied with a conscientious but less consistent and
more outlined portraiture of him whom I would fain display
with the most vivid and life-like truth and beauty.
In addition to the inadequacy which I have felt to the pro-
per fulfilment of my task I ought to add at least a regret
(though I cannot justly put it as a ground for forbearance)
that my own position has placed additional obstacles in my
PREFACE.
vii
way. To produce the harmony and completeness which I
have desiderated requires a particular, careful elaboration
which only those possessed of leisure such as I cannot com-
mand can hope to effect. A great part of what follows has
indeed been written, currente calamo, in the midst of inevita-
ble avocations; and, notwithstanding the most anxious desire
to do justice to my father's memory, the constant pressure of
a laborious profession has seriously diminished my chance of
success. Those who severely retort on me that this should
not have been so and that I should rather have delayed the
publication of this memoir than have exposed myself to such
a difficulty must remember that in this respect I have not been
my own master. Large classes of persons there are who take
the most lively interest in my father's memory, and who have
a right to call for, and who have called for at the hands of
those to whom the care of that memory is committed the
publication, without delay, of some such work as this.
;'.
{ ·
Moreover the mode in which I have treated my subject has
so much embarrassed me, that I fear it will be said with some
justice that my work is but a disjointed and ill-arranged affair.
But I have felt that, while these pages should be a fit repre-
sentation of his character and career for those who knew him
not, his public life is matter of peculiar interest to many, and
I cannot forget that he had a very extensive circle of friends
throughout and beyond this country to whom every proper
detail of his private life and his internal history is of .value.
Now I conceive that a biography of such a man for the ge-
neral reader, a "religious memoir" of him for the world in
which his public life was mostly passed in widely successful
efforts to extend the knowledge of the Gospel of peace and
pure holiness, and such a narrative as would be best suited
to the friendly eye and perhaps most proper for private circu-
lation, are three very different works. Yet, inconsistent as
they are, I have felt myself bound to attempt to combine
them; and in doing so, it may be, and I am conscious that to
some extent it is the case, that I have failed in all. I fear
that those who take no interest in Methodism (and my father
{
viii
PREFACE.
had many friends whose closest connection with it was through
him) will object to the frequency with which matters interest-
ing only to those associated with it are discussed, and that
those who only view him as a public man will consider the
many private and family letters and details which will be
found are quite out of place. I can only beg the candid
reader to consider what I have said, and to be forbearing to-
wards one who would grieve indeed to prejudice his father's
memory in any way and who has been solicitous to do it
justice.
It may be asked why, with full consciousness of my deficien-
cies, did I undertake so difficult a task as I speak of. My
replies are two-one which will perhaps not be admitted as
an answer, another which I think is so. First-melancholy
as the pleasure has been, it has been a deep pleasure for me
to write this book-a pleasure which I would not willingly
have foregone. This would be worse indeed than no answer
if it implied an admission that I ought not to have under-
taken it, but (Secondly) I conceive that I was in some
respects the fittest person to do so. Eminent and beloved
as my father was as a public man, he was even more distin-
guished in his private life. As a friend and in the domes-
tic circle never was man more perfect or more beloved, and
perhaps it is the duty of his biographer to hold him up in
this private and domestic aspect more distinctly than in any
other.. His was a many-sided and versatile character, and
I doubt whether there is any person who knew him better
than myself; for while he was a most tender and exemplary
father, whom no child could have failed to love and reverence,
he and I were intimate as friends, and had a happy confidence
in one another. On these accounts, and because certain cir-
cumstances about his life render it essential that his biography
should be committed to one having no personal concern (ex-
cept as through him) in the subjects from which they arose,
was justified, as it seems, in assuming so grave a responsibility.
Our relationship however has in its turn embarrassed me in
my task. I have very freely (perhaps too much so) inserted
I
•
PREFACE.
ix
:
►
private and family letters in the following pages, though I have
naturally felt a peculiar unwillingness to expose myself to a
charge of egotism or of a violation of literary decorum or good
taste in this respect. On this subject I would quote a remark
which Coleridge has made in the preface to his collected poems,
He says "Egotism is to be condemned only when it offends
against time and place, as in history or an epic poem. To
censure it in a monody or sonnet is almost as absurd as to
dislike a circle for being round." Though this is not a
preface to monodies or a sonnet, it is a preface to a work
in which it seems that a certain amount of personal or
family egotism, as involved in domestic letters and details,
does not "offend against time and place." Nothing perhaps
so much as private letters (even letters the most trivial and
commonplace, when judiciously selected and employed) dis-
plays the true colour and substance of a man's being. That I
have always selected and employed my materials judiciously
I cannot venture to hope, but I have endeavoured at least to
avoid everything which could give annoyance to the most
sensitive person.
One more topic I must refer to-and that to me a painful
one.
My father took so important a part in the controversies
which have at times convulsed the Methodist societies, that I
have been unable to avoid touching on most distasteful sub-
jects-subjects which were almost the only dash of bitterness
in the cup of his happiness and which led, as I believe, to his
premature death. It is the more necessary to touch upon
some of these topics as, since my father's death, it has
been attempted, in contravention of the "de mortuis nil
nisi bonum" principle, to detract from the value of his
labours. I have done so, however, most unwillingly and
only in some few cases and to the extent in which it was
indispensable for a right understanding of his life and cha-
racter, and I altogether disclaim the slightest wish or in-
tention to slight or criticise either Wesleyan party. I am
inclined to hope that something of the generosity which is
appropriate and the justice which is due towards his memory
X
PREFACE.
may lead those who differed to a greater or less degree from
him, on either side of Wesleyan politics, to abstain from im-
proper and harsh comments. As I have carefully refrained
from whatever can justly offend a party, I have been equally
anxious to avoid any allusion to controversial matters which
could offend any individual. I deprecate most earnestly
therefore, as I have myself studiously avoided, anything which
may excite "religious" rancour or personal ill-feeling.
It may be that my reticence on these subjects has been too
great. I am not sure at all that it has not been so; but,
though my materials would have enabled, and I think would
have justified, a far more complete view of the position and
trials which my father sustained in a portion of his public life,
and the Christian conduct and noble, manly qualities which he
displayed in that aspect, I am satisfied that I am doing as he
would wish in abstaining, even to the sacrifice in some measure
of his reputation, from saying anything which could beget un-
pleasant feeling, and I trust that I may never have occasion
to refer further or again to these unwelcome matters. My
father's last public words were "Peace be unto you!"
•
Lincoln's Inn,
March 19th, 1856.
་
!
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD.
prac-
Ancestry-Various Branches-Decay of the Holmfirth Family—Their
Musical Taste-The Rev. John Beaumont-He abandons the
tice of Music and becomes a Methodist Preacher-His Character-
Dr. Beaumont's Mother-His Birth-Early Character-Love for
Music-Love of Truth-Goes to Kingswood School-Imaginative
Character-Early Religious Impressions-Extracts from his Auto-
biography-Leaves School-Apprenticeship at Macclesfield-Affec-
-tion for Kingswood
•
PAGE
1
CHAPTER II.
1808-1813.
Assiduity in Business-Removal to Chesterfield-Habits of Study-Ex-
pansive Mind-Attention to Religious Duties-Extracts from
Autobiography-Reflections on his Position-Contrast between
Home and Business Occupations-Christians, their Position and
Conduct-Impediment in his Speech-Preservation from Danger—
Increased Religious Earnestness-Youthful Letters-Determines
on assuming the Clerical Office-Selects the Wesleyan Pulpit-
Discouragements-Delicate Health-His First Sermon-Ordination
-Fitness for his position
CHAPTER III.
1813-1821.
Wesleyan "Itinerant System"-Appointment to Warrington-Character
of his Early Preaching-Influence obtained at Warrington-Uni-
tarians at Warrington-Residence with the Rev. P. Garrett
Amiability of Character-Letter to a Ministerial Friend-His Views
17
[
-
xii
CONTENTS.
+
of his Office-Removal to Prescott-Acquaintance with Dr. Adam
Clarke-His Wife's Family-Removal to Denby Dale-Letter to
Mr. J. Cuttell—Ardour in Study and Ministerial Labours-Weakness
of Health-Appointment to Glasgow-Letter to Rev. J. Bowers
Letter to his Brother-Removal to Dunbar-His Marriage-
Extending Influence-Appointed to Edinburgh
PAGE
39
CHAPTER IV.
1821-1824.
Attachment to Edinburgh-Residence at Leith-Attends the lectures
at the University-Illness of his Father-Letters to his Wife-Visit
of George the Fourth to Edinburgh-Death of his Father-Letters
to his brother Thomas-Invited to remain in Edinburgh-Traits of
domestic Character-Consideration for Servants-Kindness to Ani-
mals-Fondness for Children
52
-
CHAPTER V.
1824-1827.
Removal to Buxton-Domestic Privations-Exhausting Labours-
Health again suffers-Removal to Hull-Increase of Hesitation in
Speech-Proposed Retirement from the Ministry Overcomes his
Hesitation-Illness at Hull-Letter to his Brother Thomas-Special
voluntary Labours-Death of youngest Brother-Visit to Scarboro'-
Letters to his Family-Details of Illness-Attends the Conference
of 1827-Advised to adopt the Medical Profession-The Society at
Hull presses him to remain and provides an Assistant-His Chris-
tian Resignation-Extensive Correspondence
D
69
CHAPTER VI.
1828-1831.
Colleagues at Hull-Correspondence with Mr. Treffry-Letter to eldest
Brother-Visit to London-Sunday on board ship-Resumes his
regular Work-Removes to Nottingham-Letters to his Mother and
Brother-Health still weak-Attempted Journey to London-His
filial Affection-Letters-His Mother's Death-Annual Visit to her
Grave-Invitations to various Circuits-Diffusiveness of Labours-
Theological Society-Catholic Emancipation-Removal to South-
wark
CHAPTER VII.
1831-1833.
Increase of Influence-New Cares-Position in the Conference-Letters
-Wesleyan Dissensions-Dr. Adam Clarke-Censured by the Con-
95
CONTENTS.
4
xiii
ference-Letter to the President-Letters to his Wife-Dr. Clarke's
last Sermon and Death-Ministerial Trials-Death of his brother
John-Leaves Southwark-Anti-slavery Movement-Love of Free-
dom-Letters-Methodist Affairs-Removal to Edinburgh
PAGE
113
CHAPTER VIII.
1833-1836.
Methodism in Edinburgh-Letters-Voyage to Leith-Changes in Edin-
burgh-Its Ministers-Professors-University-Wesleyan Society—
Visit to the Lakes-Letters-Visit to London-Illness-Letters to
his Wife-Attends the Conference-Letter to his Brother-Metho-
dist Troubles-Agitation and Schism-Trying position in the Society
-His care to preserve Peace-Ministerial Success in Edinburgh
-Grief at Disruption-Moderation-Steadfast Conduct-Letter to
Mrs. Rowley-Visit to Londonderry-Exciting Journey-Liberality
of the Bishop of Derry-University Studies-Takes his Degree
•
•
. 132
CHAPTER IX.
1836-1839.
Removes to London-Great Influence-Vast power of Labour-Domes-
tic Character-Duties of Parents-His Circuit Duties-Assiduous
as a Pastor-Benevolence to the Poor-Extraordinary Labours—
Mode of Life-Extempore Preaching-Colleagues-Prosperity of the
Circuit Letters-Interest in 'the Theological Institution-Letter
on Education-Memoir of Mrs. Tatham-Remarks on Preaching-
God's Providence-Extravagance in Religion-His love of Flowers-
Negro Apprenticeship System-Letters-Centenary of Methodism—
Conference of 1839-Objection to" Tests"-Regret at leaving London 156
CHAPTER X.
DR. BEAUMONT AS AN ORATOR.
Eloquence-Prominent Characteristics-Sources of his Eloquence--
Personal Appearance-Manner-Remarkable Voice-Mannerisms
-Earnestness-Power over Audiences-His Prayers-Form of Ser-
mons-Their Practical Character-Originality-Favourite Texts-
Sympathy-Simplicity-Style-Repetitive Manner-Use of Meta-
phor-Extracts - The Platform Speaker-Tact and Versatility-Pas-
sages from Speeches
180
CHAPTER XI.
1839-1841.
Removal to Liverpool-Colleagues-Popularity there-Letters on Edu-
çation for the Pulpit-Perils in Journeys-Accident in 1839—
+
xiv
CONTENTS.
3
[
F
Correspondence-Domestic Life-Letters to his Wife-Visit to
Rhyll-Love of the Beautiful-Pervading Piety-Conversation—
Humour and Gaiety-Letters-Illness of eldest Daughter
PAGE
202
CHAPTER XII.
1841-1842.
Conference of 1841-" Wesleyan Takings "-Letters-Sensitiveness—
Mountain Scenery-Visit to London-Tutbury Castle-Visit to Bel-
fast-Luxury economically considered-Illness-Visits Buxton in
search of health-Engagement to Bristol-Correspondence-Con-
ference of 1842-Appointment to Liverpool (North Circuit)—His
Daughter's death
229
CHAPTER XIII.
1842-1845.
Family Affliction-Letters to his Family and Friends-Rev. J. Caughey-
Education Bill-Escapes in journeying-Stratford-upon-Avon-
Labours at Conference time-Reflections on Mortality-Visit to
Cornwall-Letter on Teetotalism-Letter of Condolence to Mrs.
Walker-Invitations to Circuits-Engagement with Queen Street
Circuit (London)-Colleagues-Conference of 1845-Sermon at Ox-
ford Place Chapel, Leeds-Marriage of his eldest Daughter
. 255
CHAPTER XIV.
1845-1848.
Labours of Clergy in London-Journey to London-Queen Street Cir-
cuit-Colleagues-Visit to Ireland-Daniel O'Connell on Metho-
dism-Evangelical Alliance-Parental solicitude-Advice to his
Son-Parting from Children going abroad-His grief-Family Let-
ters-Visit to Kingswood-Visit to Boulogne-Appointed to Hinde
Street Circuit
•
CHAPTER XV.
1848-1851.
#1
Colleagues-Escape from accident-Funeral Sermons-Wesleyan Affairs
"The Fly Sheets"-Expulsions-General Agitation-Visit to the
Lakes-Difficulties of position-Moderation-Circuit Affairs-Cen-
sure of the Conference-Special District Meeting-"Exhibition '
Sermons Steadfast Consistency-Renewed censure of Conference
-General approval of his conduct-Testimonials-Farewell to
Hinde Street
¿
•
274
299
·
CONTENTS.
XV
་
,1
PAGE
CHAPTER XVI.
1851-1854.
Removes to Bristol-The Circuit-Colleagues-Family Letters-Visits.
Dublin-Conference of 1852-Failure of Health-Development of
Character-Funeral of the Duke of Wellington-Increasing Weak-
ness-Last Sermon in London-Visit to Winchester-Avoidance of
Offence-Increasing ill-health-Visits Buxton-Unremitting La-
bours-Conference of 1854-Hydropathic Treatment-His Malady
unknown-Unwillingness to cause anxiety
337
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CLOSE OF LIFE.
Removes to Hull-Regrets-Happiness in suffering-Elevation of Soul
-Visits Wiesbaden-Letters-Sojourn in Kent-His labours re-
newed-Letters to the Rev. S. Cox-Settles at Hull-Last Visit to
London-Colleagues-Resumes all his duties-Serenity in affliction
Contemplation of Death-His last Letters-Solemnity of his
public services-His last Fortnight-His final Journey-His last
Sermon-His Death-Its Cause-His Funeral-Funeral Sermons
Letters from brother Ministers
367
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LIFE OF
THE REV. DR. BEAUMONT.
i
CHAPTER I.
PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD.
THE custom of commencing a biography with an account
of the ancestry of its subject has been carried to an absurd
extent; but not less absurd is the repudiation of that custom
to which such an extreme has naturally led, in cases where it
would more properly have been adhered to. Those heraldic
introductions which are found prefacing the early modern
works in this branch of literature, are not more outré and
affected than is the fashion of commencing with the date of
birth or with the "once upon a time" of the primitive chronic-
lers. Whether the idea whence is one of those innate ideas
which metaphysicians discuss, or not, it has, from the earliest
days, been natural to consider a man as a branch of a stock,
and the desire to know something of his "belongings" is
generally coextensive with that of learning something of
himself.
Dr. Beaumont was descended from an ancient and dis-
tinguished family. Its early history is involved in the ro-
mances of the Vikings, and is of no interest here. Suffice
it to say, that it passed through the wild chivalric career of
the great Norman families, and that it was only after playing
for centuries a prominent part in Europe and establishing
their fame in Palestine, in Italy and in France as well as in
England, and after repeated attainders and confiscations in-
B
2
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
=
curred in the various wars of the succession to the Conqueror's
crown, that the Bellomonts (Bellimontes) or Beaumonts, as
they then began to be called, settled with what remained to
them of their possessions in Leicestershire, of which county
they had been the ancient earls.
As times became more quiet this family, deprived of its
military character and power, multiplied considerably and
its various branches established themselves independently of
one another both in Leicestershire and other counties. One
of these branches migrated early to the West Riding of
Yorkshire, in various parts of which its descendants are
now to be found, and from it Dr. Beaumont sprang. The
immediate stock to which he belonged settled long ago in the
neighbourhood of Holmfirth, now well known by the terrible
flood which lately desolated it. On the slope of the rugged
hills and fells which witnessed that catastrophe lie two farms,
Longley and Brackley, which belonged to these Beaumonts
who occupied the position of respectable yeomen, and led the
life which has reduced that once great class of Englishmen
to little, in many districts at least, besides a name and a tra-
dition. Following the usual course, Brackley was first mort-
gaged, then held under the mortgagee, and then entirely lost
by its quondam owners.* Longley was dealt with in a similar
manner, but remained longer in the family, and was only
finally abandoned a few years ago by the last Beaumont who
occupied it, after his ancestors had lived there continuously
for upwards of 400 years.
Though the military and political doings of the Beaumont
* Sometimes it is said that the yeomen are still flourishing under the
name of Esquires. It is worth while to bear in mind the wide distinc-
tion which really exists, in spite of the modern confused use of such
descriptions, between the former class, who farmed their own land in hold-
ings seldom greater than 300 or 400 acres, and the class of proprietors
which, far removed from the chivalric Esquire, has existed ever since the
age of chivalry in this country under that title. Though many yeomen
have in all times by prudence advanced themselves to great possessions,
as a class they have always displayed, in company with their many
virtues, an amount of improvidence and unthrift which has gradually
reduced them in importance, deprived them of their estates and, through
whole districts, has converted them into tenant farmers, or even banished
their name.
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
3
family may be passed with an allusion, it is interesting to ob-
serve on the eminence to which it has attained at various
periods in intellectual character, and in the pursuit of literature
and art. It would be impertinent to allude to any ordinary lite-
rary reputation which its members have, in several instances,
achieved for themselves, but to this family belonged that
Francis Beaumont whose genius and renown shed a lustre not
only on his family but on his age-one of those two "full con-
genial souls," whose fame is married for ever as that of Beau-
mont and Fletcher. He was one of the most remarkable men
of an Augustan age. Dying before he had numbered thirty
years—a man of the world, no student or dramatist "by profes-
sion"-he yet left behind him a fame imperishable. Had his
works not been, as unfortunately they are, sullied by the
loose language of his age to an extent which by an inevitable
justice much restricts the knowledge of them, the magic of
his splendid poetry and the sympathy evoked by his masterly
exhibitions of the human heart would have secured him a
place still nearer to those few grand poets whose fame alone
transcends his. The extent of his labours was in itself
amazing-not only did he, sometimes alone, and sometimes
in conjunction with Fletcher and others, write much in various
styles but he was, though a mere youth, acknowledged as
the arbiter of the wit, learning and poetry of his day, him-
self a consummate wit, scholar and poet. Ben Jonson-
that Ben who was wont to patronise Shakspeare !—was accus-
tomed, during the few short years of Beaumont's maturity,
to consult his judgment and submit to it his own immortal
productions. And to him Jonson addressed himself in verses
which breathe a sincerity not often observable in such pane-
gyrics*—
* The Beaumonts of Grâce-Dieu produced in the sixteenth century a
constellation of intellect and genius of which Francis was the principal
star. His father and grandfather (one of whom was Master of the
Rolls and the other a Justice of the Common Pleas) were distinguished
for their learning and elegant taste, and his brother John was the
author of "Boswell Field," a poem which though now unread is full of
merit and of which Johnson-not the rare Ben, but the Tory Doctor—said
“that by it John would have earned immortal fame for the Beaumonts;
had not the more brilliant genius of Francis engrossed all that one
family had a right to."
་
4
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
“How I do love thee, Beaumont, and thy muse,
That unto me dost such religion use;
How I do fear myself, that am not worth
The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth!
At once thou mak'st me happy and unmak'st,
And, giving largely to me, more thou takʼst.
What fate is mine that so itself bereaves ?
What art is thine that so thy friend deceives,
That even there where most thou praisest me,
For writing better, I must envy thee?"
The Longley Beaumonts were celebrated for their love for
and skill in music. Dr. Beaumont's grandfather considerably
injured his already decaying fortunes by his devotion to this
art (in which he was a proficient, and of which, indeed, at one
time, he was a sort of professor), and learned that a mania for
curious instruments and music and a system of neglect of
his proper affairs for the sake of enjoying his favourite but
left-handed pursuit was not to be indulged with impunity.
This taste was hereditary in the family for many generations,
manifested itself in various ways and tinged the habits
and pursuits of its members. Dr. Beaumont's father was a
man of strong character and considerable ability. He be-
longed to the second race of Methodist preachers who, in
habit and spirit, occupied a medium position between the
veritable "travelling preachers" of the preceding generation,
and the "Wesleyan Ministers" of the present day. He in-
herited at least the full measure of the musical taste and
capacity of his family; indeed, it was intended that he
should devote himself to the melodious art professionally, and
in one of his works (for he published various literary as well
as musical productions) he describes, in a naïve manner, the
circumstances under which he abandoned for God's sake that
profession for which his musical tastes had led him to forsake
his hereditary calling. He writes :-"When about sixteen
years of age, I went to a musical party at Mexborough, near
Barnsley, and, on their feast day, a Methodist preacher stood
up in the street and preached from the following words:
They have Moses and the prophets, let them hear them; if
not, neither would they be persuaded though one arose from
the dead.'. I was wonderfully struck by the discourse, the
C
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
5
10
&
effects of which did not readily leave me.
Soon after this I
dreamed of dying, and, as I thought, found myself in hell,
where I saw two persons whom I knew; I imagined the fire
was but kindling, and I seemed as if borne up in the smoke
so as to feel no pain. I mentioned this to a serious neigh-
bour, who advised me to turn to God, saying these were loud
calls to prepare for death. About this time the Methodists
introduced preaching and prayer-meetings into our neigh-
bourhood; but I could but seldom attend, as my father was
a great Churchman and very averse to Methodism. How-
ever, the more I went to hear the more I discovered myself a
sinner.
•
"Now my father learned that I attended the meetings fre-
quently, which so displeased him that he told me, in good
earnest, that if I was determined to go among the Methodists
I should not stay at his house. I told him I saw the neces-
sity of serving God, and felt it good to go to their meetings,
which made me resolve not to give up attending them. He
replied, 'Then we must part;' adding, that I should not stay
with him another day. I therefore took him at his word,
and went to a brother-in-law, told him what had happened,
adding that I intended to learn the cloth-making business,
and, if he chose, I would engage with him. From that time
I had my liberty to go to the means of grace whenever I
pleased. What my father did was not so much from a spirit.
of persecution, as hoping thereby to break me off from going
amongst the Methodists, lest it should spoil me as a musician,
and entirely frustrate his designs concerning me. After this
there was a wonderful noise in the neighbourhood about my
forsaking home, giving up music, turning Methodist and, in
fact, becoming a lunatic; and many attempts were made to
bring me back to my old course. My father, thinking he had
a right to command me, did once oblige me to attend a con-
cert which he had, but, as soon as it was over, I quitted the
place, and immediately set off to a watch-night. I soon dis-
covered that the spirit and conduct of musicians were such,
that there was no way for me but to quit the whole at once,
or make nothing out in religion, and therefore I determined
to have done with it, and apply myself wholly to the means
of grace."
6
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Mr. Beaumont was for many years an active, zealous
and successful preacher. He did not indeed raise himself to
eminence such as his son's gifts secured for his name, but he
was well known and much esteemed by the Methodist people
of his day and is still remembered with affection in many
of the "circuits" in which he was located. There was much
of the expansiveness of his son's character about him; for
while he was a laborious preacher and a student both of
books and of men, his mind embraced subjects wide of his
ordinary avocations. His tastes for "a blood horse and a fine
Psalm tune" are still remembered by those who knew him-
tastes which never left him and which, though oddly collo-
cated and apparently as ill assorted with his character of a
Methodist preacher as with one another, were really not only
a source of pleasure to himself, but an advantage in his
position.
The early Methodist preachers were literally "travelling
preachers," and a great part of their time was spent in the
saddle, visiting the various places within their extensive
bounds, in days when judges had hardly ceased to “ride the
circuit," or bishops to adopt the same means of locomotion
on their visitations. It seems to have been the custom to
keep in various circuits-circuits Methodistic, not legal—a
"preacher's horse," doubtless a worthy animal, but one
which must often have been a greater object of compassion
than the leanest and most overworked of his masters, and at
best but a sorry dependence for two or three preachers having
to move simultaneously, but in different directions, in districts
of many miles' diameter. There can be little doubt that Mr.
Beaumont's love for horseflesh, which led him always to keep
for his own use a steed of a different character from that of
the "circuit" Rosinante, must have facilitated his labours as
much as it afforded him gratification.
His devotion to music continued throughout his life. He
was a careful student, a most industrious composer, and an
instrumentalist of considerable acquirements.
His com-
positions are voluminous and various and, though he does
not seem to have possessed originality as a composer, his
works display an unaffected simplicity-the rarest perhaps of
qualities at that day-though in other respects they partake
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
7
of the faults common to all the composers of the last century
who preceded Mozart, and who were not gifted with master
souls by which to soar above the conventionalities of the age.
But his writing was clear, his melody flowing and frequently
he exhibited an earnestness which gives to his compositions
considerable merit. His best works are some of his anthems
and psalm tunes, which were produced in his later years; and,
although most of his compositions have passed from memory,
some are still remembered and retained in use. Amongst the
Wesleyans especially, though not with them alone, many of
his hymn tunes are and will continue popular, being just what
such melodies should be, clear and simple, melodious and ex-
pressive. And so Mr. Beaumont's love for music and proficiency
in that art were not only consistent with his calling, but were
employed and directed in a way auxiliary to his proper labours.
Dr. Beaumont's mother was a person for whom he had a
warm affection and admiration, and the writer would not
properly fulfil his task without alluding to her, as it is clear
that she had a very important influence in forming her son's
character, many of the features of which were moulded by
her. She was possessed of considerable attractions both of
person, manner and character, and the force of the latter
was conspicuously displayed in her union with her husband.
She was the daughter of Colonel Home, and was born and
spent her early life at Gibraltar, whence she was sent to
Edinburgh, at which she was educated, and after leaving
that place her youth was spent at the seat of her step-father,
Admiral Evans, at Feltham Hill. Here certainly she had
not much opportunity of having her mind imbued with the
doctrines of the earnest preachers of the last century; never-
theless it was decreed that she should herself become the wife
of one of them.
We live perhaps too near the period of the first progress
of Methodism to perceive, or at least readily to appreciate,
the important part which its influence has already played in
the churches and in the State of England. Political consider-
ations and other causes, as well as ignorance, have so obscured
the history of the early part of the last century that few bear
in mind to what a depth of degradation religion, politics and
social and personal morals had fallen under the vulgar sceptre
8.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
1
•
of the first two Georges. Utter apathy in the Church to its
real calling, an almost complete secularization (and something
more) of Churchmen, political prostitution and the lowest-
dissoluteness pervading all society was what England dis-
played after the disappearance of the race of Somers and
Addison (whose age was itself sufficiently vicious) until
good King George the Third" ushered in another era.
cr
No doubt this state of things was partly attributable to the
influence of the court on the national morals-a cause which
is constantly operating, but which (as our manner is with
whatever is constant in its action) we ordinarily lose sight of.
When the monarch squandered in single entertainments of
the vulgarest and most bizarre taste sums equal to the whole
of his electoral income, while ministers were content to urge
upon their royal master the necessity of choosing a Protestant
mistress, and Madame von Platen displayed her charity in
dispensing to the poor. the milk which she had used for her
baths, the ale-bench was the most usual resort of the clergy, the
choice sport of the "young bloods" was to practise the " pro-
fession" of the highwayman, and the "elders of the land,"
the squires and magistrates of every district, ordinarily spent
a great portion of each day in a state of intoxication.
Fortunately, from the time of George the Third (with but
exceptions of individuals or short periods), the English court
has set such a pattern to our society, that we forget that it is
our pattern. History indeed points it out as such uniformly
and certainly, but does not afford a more striking illustration
of the maxim than in the case of which we speak. There had
been dissoluteness in English courts before, but it had usually
been allied with graces and refinements which to some extent
at least mitigated its repulsiveness, but those German sove-
reigns who first united Hanover and Great Britain differed
widely from the "princely Stuarts," and had the faculty of
uniting at the same time the grossness and ignorance of
boors with extravagance and dissoluteness more than that
of princes. While the melancholy captive of Ahlen pined
away in confinement for a mere suspicion, and the first Caro-
line took the burden of the State upon herself, their august
spouses exposed their vulgar amours and excesses without a
veil, and the inevitable consequence was a state of society
י
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
9
*
which was too debased and corrupt to be described except by
those whose office it is to narrate the social history of the
period.
There can be no doubt that it was this state of things which
called for and which caused at the same time the vehement
opposition to and the triumphant success of the zealous
preachers who arose in the middle of the eighteenth century.
They had a great work to do, and they did it nobly. Not only
all who love religion but all who love their country, when they
reflect on this page of history, must entertain a lively gratitude
to those men and to their monarch who, with his many faults,
was in this respect a good if not otherwise a great king-
that he gave the sanction of his support and example to all
who desired to eradicate that corruption which, had it con-
tinued to exist, would doubtless have involved the Church and
the State of England in the disasters which, thirty years later,
befel the Church and State of France.
But this is a very remote digression by way of introducing
the observation that, at the end of the last century, there was
so much of the traditions of extraordinary success and evan-
gelising power attached to the followers of Wesley and Whit-
field, that they still frequently attracted amongst their audience
the polite, the worldly, the curious and the profane, who went
from motives either philosophic, frivolous or worse, to hear
and see "what these Methodists were," and perchance to
hold them up to ridicule. During a visit which Miss Home
paid to the neighbourhood of Huddersfield when Mr. Beau-
mont was residing in that town, it happened that she went to
the Methodist chapel, and was so impressed with what she
then heard as to become dissatisfied with her manner of life.
She refused, as a first self-denial, to partake in card-playing
on Sunday evening which used in those days to be a regular
social practice. Instead of being abashed by the ridicule
poured on her for her conscientious protest against profanity
and irreligion, she returned again and again to the Methodist
chapel, and her mind ultimately became so deeply influenced
that she determined to confess herself a Methodist. This step
caused the active displeasure of her mother and step-father,
who entirely discountenanced it; but their harshness only
seems to have had the effect of making her the more fixed in
4
10
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
her views, and ultimately-although she was aware that the
act was one which would never be forgiven her by her own
connections-she became not only a Methodist but a Metho-
dist preacher's wife. This was the spirit she transmitted, to-
gether with her own tenderness, to her son Joseph.
This son was the third child of his parents and was born
at Castle Donnington (in the old family county of Leicester)
on the 19th of March, 1794. It would necessarily be the
case that the character of those about him and the spirit of
their earnest religious life should decidedly and permanently
affect a mind so impressible as was his. Wordsworth was
ridiculed for describing the child as "father of the man,"
but childhood has an interest not only personal to those who
love the individual but, in many cases if not in every in-
stance, its history illustrates the unity of the complete cha-
racter as it is formed in later life; and in the childhood and
youth of Dr. Beaumont might have been discerned the germs
of the many great and charming qualities, and their unusual
and most happy correlation and proportion, as his "young
ideas" gradually developed themselves.
In writing of his early days use will be made of a little
autobiography which he wrote when a lad of fifteen or sixteen.
This is the only account he has left of himself, as he was not
in after life one of those who contemplate themselves objec-
tively; nor did he ever afterwards keep any diary except such
memoranda as were necessary to record his engagements, and
the texts which he preached from in the chapels of his own
circuit. This early record has a value of its own; for while
it displays abundantly the defects both in matter and style
incident to such youthful productions, it has a genuineness
about it that a man writing of himself would probably fail in
assuring his readers of.
The following entry shows how very soon his mind was
impressed by the example of the earnest and religious men
and women amongst whom he lived, and that amongst his
earliest sensations was that one with which, in its most ele-
vated associations, his heart was doubtless full at the moment
when it ceased to beat-the love, the old family love, of
music. Speaking of his infantine years, he writes:-" No
sooner did reason begin to dawn, than my mind was im-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
11
pressed with a consciousness of a Divine Being. Serious im-
pressions were early made, and I remember perfectly well at
Birstall, when about seven years old, I felt much under
sermons, and when the congregation were singing. There
was a general alarm among the young people there at that
time, so that we held a prayer-meeting on a Sunday afternoon
in the summer house in my father's garden. Oh! the sim-
plicity of our hearts-would to God I had now that child-like
humility! Singing is what I always was more affected under
even than the sermon, especially when funeral hymns were
sung, and, when one particular hymn was sung, I never
could refrain from crying, whether in the chapel or meeting."
This sensitiveness to music and its religious influence (dis-
puted though that influence is by many) continued a part of
Dr. Beaumont's nature to his latest days. He did not value
that art at Caliban's estimate of
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not;"
but rather he elevated it, as in the exquisite stanza of Milton-
"For if such holy song
Enwrap our fancy long,
Time will run back and fetch the age of gold-
And speckled vanity
Will sicken soon and die,
And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould,
And hell itself will pass away,
And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day."
From childhood, almost from infancy, he obtained and se-
cured from his parents a remarkable amount of confidence,
at the same time that he was a favourite with his playfellows
and schoolmates. At home he was the one chosen to obtain
a liberty, to excuse a fault or to represent a grievance. Very
early did he display his love of truth-a love innate in every
noble and courageous mind, but not always developed until
the character is somewhat matured. Of her son Joseph,
however, Mrs. Beaumont often said that "she never knew
him tell a lie ;" and this truthfulness was a conspicuous fea-
ture all through his career, for, apart from his high religious
character, he had nothing of either the cowardice or short-
12
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
sightedness which begets falsehood—a vice which one of the
ancients well says is the most despicable of all vices, because it
implies that he who follows it "first impiously despises the
gods, and then basely fears men."
-
His mother's training was, however, soon at an end; for,
when he was nine years old, he was sent to Kingswood, a
school founded by Mr. Wesley in the neighbourhood of
Bristol, and ultimately appropriated to the sons of Methodist
preachers. He started from Manchester for his new scene of
life under the convoy of one of the preachers of that day,
and he thus describes the journey:-"I set off for Kings-
wood with Mr. Pritchard, Mr. Bradburn, C. Ogilvie,* and C.
Highfield, whom we took up on the way at Stockport, and no
little sport we had, for Bradburn is certainly a funny fellow.
The journey was the more pleasant as we went all the way in
post-chaises; however, after a pleasant journey, if I mistake
not, we arrived at Kingswood one Monday night, having left
Manchester the Friday afternoon preceding."
Kingswood appears to have been at that time in the con-
dition in which most public schools, even the most select, re-
mained till comparatively late years. There was a scarcity of
food (or, at least, it was badly provided), little real moral
discipline, domestic culture or social influence, and Dr.
Beaumont in his juvenile reminiscences of these his early
days complains of the bad tone of morals and the condition
of the boys. Their academical studies, however, seem to have
been directed with attention and success. Two or three cir-
cumstances relating to this period may appear of sufficient
interest to deserve record in the eyes of those who knew Dr.
Beaumont, if not of much importance in the narrative of his
life. During his school days he had not the means to indulge,
nor did he ever afterwards (as he often regretted) pursue, his
taste for music, but he evinced in his boyhood that love for
the beautiful which was always warm and active within him,
and which he cherished for that ideal in all its forms and
aspects. He was well known, not only within the precincts
of his school, but in the neighbourhood, for the care with
which he cultivated his little garden, and he afterwards fre-
* Dr. Ogilvie of Oxford-one of young Beaumont's particular friends.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
13
quently reverted to this his earliest distinction, and would
tell how his carnations in particular used to be purchased at
prices which must have formed a very important part of his
small resources, and how glad he was of this means of sup-
plying wants which the ill-regulated economy of the school
left him exposed to.
The tendency of his mind was decidedly imaginative.
This faculty alone, had it been carefully cultivated and applied,
would have raised him to distinction in life. Its poetic de-
velopment, however, was early checked by an occurrence which
he ever remembered, and which caused him always to display
great caution in coming to conclusions as to the performances
and statements of children. He had early indulged a boyish
muse, and at one time produced a poetical effusion for some
solemn occasion and in competition with others of the
Kingswood boys. This production was admitted to deserve the
palm, but one of the masters thought he discovered in it
"something like something of somebody's" (to which, how-
ever, his excellent memory did not enable him to refer); and,
although the aspirant maintained then and always asserted
the entire originality, as far as he was concerned, of his stanzas,
the palm he did not obtain because of this suspicion. This
event, if it did not entirely bar his recreating himself with
poetical composition, so far influenced him as effectually to
prevent his courting the inspiration which, though it cannot
be bought, must still be sedulously wooed before it will abide
even with those who may be gifted with poetic fire. Dr.
Beaumont, however, never thought he possessed any such gifts
in this way as to make the occurrence a matter of regret ;
and, referring to it in later life, he said:"I always thought
it a happy circumstance that this very trivial event occurred,
as it had the effect of leading me to abandon all attempts at
nibbling at the foot of Parnassus, the elevations of which I
should never have reached."
Another little incident illustrates his firmness of character,
though it has something of the burlesque about it. He had,
from boyhood, a particular dislike to broad beans-an inde-
pendence of taste, not to say fancifulness, which scholastic
discipline did not permit. On one occasion it was insisted.
that he should force himself to eat some of that rural delicacy
14
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
-as a wholesome mortification to his appetite, it may be pre-
sumed. He was far from stubborn, but he could not persuade
himself to overcome his antipathy, and he was accordingly
sentenced to have nothing to eat until his 'cold mess of beans
was disposed of. For three entire days he held out, but at
last the pangs of hunger compelled the lad to yield, and he
attempted to comply with this order. His power was, how-
ever, now less than his will, and the attempt made him so ill
that he ever afterwards enjoyed an immunity for his fancy in
the matter of broad beans.
Those religious impressions which had been early made on
his mind when at home were erased amidst the duties and
relaxations of his school life. He never strayed, however,
from the paths of morality; and he mentions how, shortly
before leaving Kingswood, these impressions were renewed at
a period of religious excitement which occurred there. His
autobiography describes this "revival" and its results to his
own mind, and mourns their transient character. But again
he writes:
"About one year before I was to leave the school, a few of the boys
began to be serious, and my younger brother (this was one a year younger
than myself, and three years younger than the brother before mentioned,*
who had left the school) being one of the number, I was awakened to see
in what a deplorable state I was, and I assembled with the few who had
begun again to meet,† and thanks be to Infinite Mercy for what I felt at
* His eldest brother, John - his schoolfellow being his younger
brother, Thomas.
+ The meeting alluded to in these fragments is what was perhaps the
distinctive feature of Wesley's system. He revived the custom (which no
doubt was practised in the primitive church, and was probably perverted
into the custom, and ultimately the "sacrament," of auricular con-
fession,) of holding regular assemblies of the devout, who met and still
meet in the Wesleyan community in small bodies, independently of the
public. service of the Church, to worship and to quicken one another's
spiritual life by discoursing of sacred subjects. There can be no doubt
that these "class meetings" (which amongst the Wesleyans are presided
over by leaders, sometimes lay and sometimes clerical, and selected from
amongst both sexes) had much to do with producing that elevated tone
of piety for which doubtless the early Methodists were distinguished.
No person is really a member of the Wesleyan body unless he is a member
of one of these classes, which thus form the groundwork of the Wesleyan
economy.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
15
that time.
I was fully determined to know the Lord, and one week
night I heard Mr. S. preach from (sic), which was particularly adapted
to my case, and surely I may say, 'mine eyes became as floods of tears
because I had kept not thy law.' I went from the chapel to the school,
determined to take no sleep that night till I felt the great load removed;
and no sooner did I get into bed, and the master was out of the room,
than I knelt upon the bed, and cried earnestly with strong tears unto the
Lord, and in a moment all was calm. Then did I praise God. My
brother lay next me, and to him I made known that I had received the
blessing, in these words, 'Christ has pardoned my sins.'
•
"On the Thursday evening following, Mr. Stevens met those who were
inclined seriously, and, having all told our states, I went to prayer, and
lo! presently what a flame was kindled! Now there was a sight worth
seeing; every one of them melted into tears; and I never yet saw such
consciousness of sin and need of a Saviour, I think, as at that time, at
least among so few. The whole house seemed engaged with God for one
common blessing; for the housekeeper who had long been waiting for
the consolation of Israel, and not only we who were then together, par-
took of this divine blessing; and many testified that night that they were
the children of the Most High. A new class was immediately formed,
and myself the first leader, which made me a little proud; and this time,
I thought, surely would pay for all former departures from godliness, for
there seemed a general steadiness to prevail, so that chief part of the
class was kept together for some time; but not long, I see, does early piety
last without the most constant prayer and watchfulness, for levity and
trifling will generally intrude the moment either of the others cease;
thus again a falling off was visible, but myself with others continued
the remainder of my time at the school."
From this time Dr. Beaumont's mind was constantly per-
vaded and penetrated with the love of God, which grew and
was confirmed as the warmest, simplest and most devoted
piety-never displayed, but always apparent as that unobtru-
sive but efficient spirit, which "the world" never fails to re-
cognise and respect, even while it resists its influence or even
opposes its efforts.
The social state of the eighteenth century has been already
glanced at in one or two particulars, but no advance has been
more remarkable since that time than that which has, even
within the last generation, taken place in the system of do-
mestic life. Great is the change from the "honoured pa-
rents" and "humble and dutiful children" of former days,
to the "dearest father" and "devoted" or "loving son," or
the "yours very affectionately" of 1856-at least as far as
outward forms and family habits are concerned. It is, no
J
16
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
doubt, attributable to the stricter notions in such respects
which obtained in his early days, and, perhaps, partly to the
fact that his father resided in the north of England, that Dr.
Beaumont was very little a visitor at home during the period
of his school education, and it will be seen that even at its
expiration he returned to his father's house to leave it almost
immediately for the "battle of life." He sympathised by
anticipation with a warmer, more unrestrained intercourse
between children and parents, on which he always placed
the greatest value, both as a solace and happiness to the
latter and a means of educating the former. He ex-
pressed himself with much tenderness, and displayed thus
early a delicate appreciation of those social laws which are
always at work, but are too often disregarded, in his remarks
on passing from school to that home which he felt very dear
and necessary to his happiness—
At length," writes he of the year 1808, "the long, long-wished for
time arrived-the Bristol Conference-when I was to be loosed out of
what I thought my prison, and be made completely happy. And lo! I
saw my father and mother; the former I had not seen all my time at the
school before, five years, but I did just know him. Such was my joy,
that I could not refrain from weeping; but having not seen my dear
father so long produced a kind of shyness or distance which should be
much guarded against by parents; such a length of time for children to
be kept from their parents, at my age, I think, is very imprudent.
Now fourteen years of my life are gone; five years' destiny,
which I thought would never be at an end, is at length finished, but
what a different aspect the time past now wears from when 'twas to
come! It seems but the other day when I set out from Manchester with
Pritchard and others. One of the most valuable stages of life is o'er,
though little estimated as such when in progression. Very little indeed,
comparatively speaking, have I got in this time of human learning,
though always striving at it. My chief reason to vindicate this, is an
impediment in my speech, which it pleased Almighty Goodness in wisdom
to afflict me with most of my time at Kingswood."
He then proceeds to express his regret at the fate which
compelled him almost immediately to leave home and com-
mence preparations for business-a lot which he felt uncon-
genial to his affections, his habits and his aspirations. He
had acquired an ardent love of knowledge, and comprehended
how immeasurably nobler is the scope which intellectual pur-
suits and pleasures afford than occupations and associations
1
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
17
of a mere routine, mechanical or sordid nature can give. But
here he discovered perhaps a want of sympathy on his
father's part for his higher powers and feelings, or at least
he did not fully appreciate the motives which actuated his
parent to adopt for him the course which he was now to
pursue. Mr. Beaumont (though himself a man of sensitive-
ness) appears to have been of a somewhat stern character; he
did not allow any consideration of his son's own tastes to weigh
against the prudential reasons which swayed him as the father
of a large family which was but very slenderly provided for.
It was accordingly determined that young Joseph Beaumont
should be apprenticed to a chemist at Macclesfield. The son,
although he could not reconcile himself to the life thus
opened to him, dutifully and readily acquiesced in this deter-
mination; and, after referring to the regret which his father's
decision caused him, he writes, in the sketch which has been
already frequently referred to-
However, Conference being nearly concluded, I bid farewell, a long
farewell, to my old school, to dear Kingswood, rendered since then still
dearer. Accordingly I set off with my parents from Bristol, and arrived
at Congleton on the Tuesday evening following, that place being the then
place of my parents' abode. I came home-home-where ?-home was
indeed a great rarity-something quite new-a place where I had not
been for five long years; but nevertheless my stay at home was but for
five days! for as my father was to remove this Conference from Congleton
to Walsall, 'twas thought more proper for me to go at once to my in-
tended abode rather than accompany my parent to Walsall; so that,
after being from home five successive years, I was but permitted when I
did get there to remain as many days. Accordingly I set off with my
father for Macclesfield, and I became apprenticed to Mr. Lowe. I now
entered upon my new sphere of action with some caution and with
steadiness; but this situation being so widely different from my preceding
one, my spirits soon began to fail me, and a degree of melancholy en-
sued. Reflection upon reflection stole upon me. I entered upon my pre-
sent situation at the latter end of August, 1808, and, after serving the
usual time of trial, I was bound for the term of six years. Again I sup
posed my doom was fixed for another series of years, at least if life was
spared, but I found it very different from my former one-oh! for content-
ment!-'tis certainly a kingdom!
Kingswood, where art thou?
Kingswood school, still dearer, art thou fled for ever? Ah! where am I
now? Is now my mind (the chief part of man) engaged in studies tho
most rational, the most essentially instructive, the most assimilated to a
state of purity and piety? Are books now the constant attendants of
•
C
+
18
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
my time?—is their intrinsic worth now drawn out daily ?—or have I, like
the bee, had my summer of life, and must what I have now extracted
serve me? Is my soul daily fired with new ideas?—is my imagination so
quick and lively as it recently was? Do I now hear the pleasing voice
of youthful friendship?-do now the cheering voices of fellow students
rouse my lethargic passions? Are now my only companions the sons of
the prophets, the sons of the prophets of the Most High?
Where is solitude? Where is thought? Where the pleasing shades of
the sycamore and the glen? Do they now screen my head? Does their
majestic breadth, lofty height, towering branches, spreading leaves, assist
fond nature in inspiring my breast with noblest thoughts? Ah! no-no.
How do the tears run down my cheeks at the fond remembrance of all
this and ten thousand times more! Where now is the place that is dear as
life itself almost?-am I fled from it, or is it fled from me for ever? "Tis
gone-'tis o'er, no more I hear that bell. No! 'tis calling others more
worthy than I to those studies, those moments of happiness, though
perhaps as little thought so by them as they were by me!"
This soliloquy (though sufficiently jejune and turgid—the
rhetoric of a youth of fifteen, possessed of a vivid imagination,
a sensitive heart and an unfinished education) affords a lively
picture of his sensations in his new position, of those vain
regrets of bygone days which every man experiences in his
turn and which had fallen to his lot earlier than, fortunately,
they occur with others. The affection for Kingswood which
this passage displays never wore away, but rather with the
advance of age strengthened, as attachments of that nature
are wont to do. He had decorated it in his own mind with
the charms of tender associations, the remembrances of days
when he was "rich in years," and rich, though perhaps not
more so than in after life (so youthful did he remain in these
respects to his latest days), in hopes and aspirations and the
wealth of an independent and expansive mind-days when the
world was fresh to him and bedecked with that brilliancy
which in life as in nature adorns peculiarly the early morn-
ing. For Kingswood in itself had little to recommend it
apart from its associations. The old school, which has been
at length abandoned, was at least in its last days a venerable
place enough, and one in which many of the readers of this
volume will feel a high degree of interest as long asso-
ciated with the history and men of Methodism. It was how-
ever but an old and not very commodious house, with a
chapel and numerous outbuildings, placed between a very
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
19
1
\
unpretending but very useful garden (which to the writer, as
to his father and many others who have passed their boyhood
in that scene, appeared a very Eden by virtue of its being
forbidden ground) and a playground adorned by some rows of
very fine elms and by other trees. This establishment was
situated at what might seem to be the very "fag end of
creation," in that rugged, savage mining district which, for-
tunately small in extent, disfigures the charming vicinage of
Bristol. Here was the scene of what were perhaps Mr.
Wesley's most successful evangelizing efforts, and here, amidst
a people now very far from refined but then savage and un-
tutored indeed, he planted the Wesleyan school. Dr. Beau-
mont was actuated in a considerable measure by his affection
for this scene of his own early life to place the writer there
for a short period in his boyhood; and at that time there were
many quaint traditions and legends handed down amongst
the boys, possibly to a greater extent than in older and more
distinguished institutions of which the members in successive
generations have not a common bond such as Kingswood
boys, all Methodist preachers' sons, possess; and a history of
the school, its occupants, manners, traditions and manifold
improvements, down to its late removal to Lansdown, would
be an interesting page in what is called "Methodist litera-
ture."
The abandonment of this familiar scene in favour of the
more imposing structure which now, under the old name of
Kingswood, crowns the beautiful city of Bath, Dr. Beaumont
never could be reconciled to. He considered it almost a dese-
cration, and could not be induced to see the occasion for it;
arguing that the old place was capable enough of improve-
ment and adaptation to the most extensive requirements
which the institution could make. Some of his family re-
member well going with him only a very short time before
his death on a little pilgrimage to old Kingswood after its
desertion.* To the writer-who accompanied him and who
had himself been at the school, and whose memories of it had
not so far faded into distance as to be gilded by that enchant-
* Since that time the abandoned place has become the site of the
Kingswood Reformatory School.
20
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
*
ment which adorns long bygone scenes-it had little or no-
thing attractive save its trees and its being the object of the
father's affection; but it was in vain that he endeavoured to
point out its defects and its general unsuitableness, as he
conceived it, to its object. With the father all this was
different; he grew pathetic in his lamentations over its de-
parted glories. Fastidious as he was in taste, he maintained
the house to be a mansion; the garden was delightful and
the landscape worthy of Salvator; and he was observed by
his children to pluck from the deserted garden, with tearful
eyes, some great, rank, overripe marigolds which almost
alone flourished in the desolate borders and which he carried
away with him as mementos of his visit.
3
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
21
A
CHAPTER II.
1808-1813.
AT Kingswood Dr. Beaumont had distinguished himself by
his assiduity and success, by his earnest application and scru-
pulous consistency of moral and religious behaviour, which did
not however prevent his enjoyment of youthful sports. "He
was remarkable,” says his brother Thomas, "for an amiable
and docile disposition, earnest and exemplary in his scho-
lastic duties and irreproachable in morals." In the new
walk of life on which he now entered he displayed the
same characteristics more completely. The apprentice of a
country apothecary has not much scope for the display of
genius, nor has he much opportunity for that relaxation and
change of pursuits which in such early years as those during
which Dr. Beaumont was in that position are most desirable
in order to strengthen and enlarge the mind. But in his
limited sphere he was energetic and assiduous, and was
enabled, on the bankruptcy of his master releasing him from
the bond of his apprenticeship, to secure at the age of
seventeen a much improved position as assistant to Mr.
Claughton of Chesterfield. During his time at Macclesfield
and Chesterfield he was most ardent and laborious in edu-
cating his intellectual powers as well as most devoted in
cultivating holiness and spirituality. His own library and
the other means of acquiring knowledge at his disposal were
very scanty, but he made the most of all that opened to him
and spared no pains to cultivate those talents with which he
must have felt himself gifted. Of what is called scholarship
he acquired little or nothing—his education had too soon been
thrown on his own hands to allow him to pursue that
เ
+
4
22.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
accomplishment; and indeed, accomplishment though it be,
it is one for which his mind had small affinity and his life
small requirement. He, however, esteemed it highly and
had himself a good knowledge of and love for classical litera-
ture. He differed from the utilitarian spirit which would
banish the masterpieces of that literature from our studies
and schools, but held that better opinion which estimates
their study not only as a worthy accomplishment for a gentle-
man but as an effective means of at once elevating and
refining men into gentlemen, in the highest sense of that
word. In general literature, poetry and science, as well as in
religion and theological literature, he made such advances
after he lost the means of education at the hands of others,
he stored his acquirements so well and digested them so
thoroughly and thought so much that he is entitled to the
credit of raising himself amidst great difficulties and with few
opportunities from a boy whose education was but half com-
pleted to a man whose mind was remarkably well informed,
✈ developed and polished.
+
It appears from his autobiography, which towards its
close, when he was sixteen years of age, assumes the form of
a diary, that, though he zealously fulfilled his duty and
readily submitted to his father's views, he was while thus
straining every nerve to fit himself for some more congenial
and extensive sphere of life by no means satisfied with his
own position. Not only did he evidently desire some lot in
which his powers should find a wider field for their exercise,
but he was sensitive to the deprivation, except during
occasional holiday periods, of domestic intercourse with his
own family and to the want of general society, which he
always valued and which he was especially fitted to adorn.
In his diary he complains sometimes that he found annoyance
from the companionship of a fellow-apprentice who appears
to have been idle and dissolute and whose character and
manners he made every effort to elevate and reform; and he
expresses himself constantly as urgently seeking a more com-
plete devotion to the will and service of his Heavenly Master-
To the discharge of his religious duties he was most attentive.
It was his habit to attend church twice on every Sunday
as well as the services of the Methodist chapel. Thus early
did he display the enlarged views which he afterwards
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
23
entertained, and indeed already his attention had been drawn
to the consideration of the sectional distinctions of the
Christian church, and in his spiritual as well as in his intel-
lectual and moral nature he was rapidly approaching that full
standard of maturity which his character afterwards displayed.
Before passing beyond the limits to which the autobio-
graphy which has been quoted extends, the following passages
from it, chiefly referring to his religious feelings, are inserted.
His mind appears to have been bent at this time constantly
and earnestly to the contemplation of those loftiest subjects
in which his spiritual welfare was concerned. He evidently
dwelt much upon religion, both experiencing its emotions
and devoutly imbibing its spirit, weighing its doctrines and
studying its forms; and it is not surprising to find that these
meditations and studies involved frequent changes in the tone
of his own feelings and not unfrequently a degree of de-
spondency as well as of an excitement very different in its
character. He was passing a period of probation and was
fitting himself by watchings and prayer and strictest self-
examination for the Christian knighthood. And a chivalrous
knight of the cross he was, nay a very knight-errant, com-
batting with whatever was corrupt and vile, degrading to
man or antagonistic to true religion.
Speaking of certain temptations he writes:-
"What an example I had from this quarter of the liability to danger!
How many times, yea how many hundreds of times have I been pressed
to join the unwary youth whose road was to destruction, whose com-
panions were like a herd of swine running violently down the steep hill
of sin and pleasure into the lake of fire; but the above-mentioned cir-
cumstances, attended by the divine blessing, enabled me in a good
degree to avoid evil communications which, as I witnessed, corrupted
good manners.
"What learning I had I now found of essential service to me. Learn-
ing had either begotten a love of reading, or reading a love of learning.
The moral advantages of learning (says my venerable father) are that it
secures from idleness, from slander, from bad company and from dissi-
pation; its special advantages, adds he, are that it qualifies for the
learned professions, capacitates for literary productions, is an excellent
directory in life; it is very useful in company and conversation and very
serviceable for personal consolation. Some of these advantages I have
already experienced from what little knowledge I possess, and I hope, if
life is spared, to experience the rest. How shall I rightly estimate this
incomparable blessing, learning, and in particular religious learning?
24
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
O God, help me to return thee the crown of all, a thankful heart! But
I was not deprived of attending the means of grace on the Lord's day, so
this I embraced and regularly attended church twice and the Methodist
chapel twice every Sunday. Melville Horne was the minister of Christ
Church which was the church to which I went. .. A little while ago,
when I first entered upon my present situation, if I heard. a person
swear or take the Lord's name in vain, I felt quite hurt and grieved on
that account; but now I do not feel so acutely on such an occasion.
How soon does the conscience in a degree become seared and the heart
in a measure become hardened by being too much engaged in the world
and the things thereof!
“To what danger is youth exposed as it ripens into manhood!
I find it requires a great deal of steadiness and assiduity and care to
give or to do to every one neither more nor less than what is just and
right. Lord, help me so to do at all times and on every occasion that I
may keep a conscience void of offence towards God and towards man!
"I felt great pleasure in attending the means of grace, which I could
never miss upon any account without the greatest remorse.
I kept my-
self from outward sin and was diligent in business. Would that I were
fervent in spirit, serving the Lord! Mr. Lowe was quite satisfied and
pleased with my behaviour, and in return behaved very kindly and good-
naturedly to me at all times. Manchester Conference came.
I had now
been at Macclesfield one year, and my father kindly called on me on his
way to Conference. This visit was very pleasant to me and in a degree
cheered my spirits, for Mr. Lowe was pleased to give my father a very
good account of me: this I could see in my father's conduct to me.
Thus all things went well. The end of this year, 1809, came. I have
now been in my present situation a year and a half. O time, time, time !
how thou fliest irrevocably, whether I am making the best of thee,
securing the one thing needful' in the way for the celestial city, or whe
ther my heart is growing more callous, my conscience less tender, and
myself in the way to the final perdition of souls! Lord, have mercy
upon me and incline my heart to keep thy laws! Often when alone
would tears run down my cheeks on account of my coldness and indiffer-
once; but when I left my room and the place of solitude, I returned
again to my old way.
"
Prayer I generally found not only my duty but my delight. Swear-
ing above all things I dreaded, and have hitherto kept myself from
joining in that most common but most wicked practice. I was very
sorry to see the other apprentice so negligent in the duty of praying night
and morning: this after I had been a considerable time he now and
then did-to see which I was very glad-but not long did it last, and my
mind was frequently much cast down. In May this year I went home
with my brother John on a visit to our parents, who then lived at Wal-
sall: this was matter of great joy, for all my father's sons and daughters
were together, and we were no small family. I was very comfortable and
happy; but upon my return lowness of spirits, attended with a cold,
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
25
made me very unwell-the thought of having recently been at home,
enjoying the sweet company of a father whose very voice did me good,
of chatting with a numerous family, of enjoying the company of many
friends, contrasting with my present situation-not a friend to speak to,
no acquaintance to cheer, nor the pleasing voice of relatives, dear indeed,
to comfort and delight me. But still, though relatives are distant, let
me not be forgetful of those mercies which I daily, hourly and momently
enjoy, but may I become content and happy in whatever situation of life
it may please the Almighty Ruler to place me in, and may I therein
work that which my hand findeth to do as unto the Lord, knowing that
in the grave neither wisdom nor knowledge nor device is found, whither
I am fast hastening!
My mind was often very much occupied in thinking about different
sects of Christians that prevail in this day, their advocates, adherents
and principles. -'s conduct was very inconsistent with true religion
in any of its offices, much more in the direct ministry thereof. As Mr.
Lowe was churchwarden of his church he was very frequently at our
house, so that I had the opportunity of examining his conduct and
observing his temper and practices, and really I felt sorry to find a man
of such pretensions, of such knowledge both general and particular, and
of such experience, disgrace himself in the manner he did: his conversa-
tion was often far from becoming the Gospel of God.
"He was certainly a man of talent, and possessed in a wonderful degree
the gift of language; indeed, for an emphatic, energetic and eloquent
delivery, I know not where he is excelled or even equalled. He was a
man of classical education, he knew the truth, and certainly kept an
amazingly large congregation together. But that 'tis easier to say than
to do was verified in him.
"For some time now I had ardently wished and earnestly prayed for
the removal of the impediment in my speech-stammering—(if consistent
with the Divine will,) but however, upon close and serious examination,
I found it had its advantages, or use, as well as the contrary; through it
I was kept from bad company for fear lest I should not be able to speak
without stammering; through it I was prevented from speaking unneces-
sarily even when I had plenty to say or could have mentioned many an
anecdote appropriate to the subject of the discourse, or the nature of the
place, or character of the person, or might have provoked and promoted
laughter and mirth, which however might not be of any great advan-
tage, at least with respect to the promotion of moral good. However,
contrariwise, many and not small were the disadvantages attending
stammering thought by me: one of the disadvantages may be its pre-
venting me from entering into discourse upon necessary and useful
topics with sensible and able men in that way and manner which other-
wise I undoubtedly should do; its causing people to look upon the
26
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
stammerer with less respect and indeed contempt; the being not able to
give an immediate answer to a question, &c. But God is too wise to err,
too good to be unkind.
*
"One afternoon I set off from Macclesfield to Buxton to receive for
Mr. Lowe £150, with which I left Buxton just at dark, and by some
means or other I got out of the right way and rode somewhere, but where
I never could learn; however I pushed on for some time, I believe
several feet in water, I opened and went through several gates and came
to one which would not open. After I had dismounted and could not
open the gate, I had given up myself for the night as well as the horse,
but though I had much money upon me I was not at all afraid about it;
however at some distance I saw a light proceeding from a house, and
immediately I shouted as loud as I was able, and presently heard a voice
saying, 'Master, master, stop, stop, stop; for God's sake, stop!' This
I gladly obeyed. Continued the man,
Continued the man, 'Don't open the gate, don't
come thro' that gate.' I saw, though it was very dark, a man running
upon a hill above me to my left without his hat; he was presently at me
and told me that if I had gone through that gate I most certainly should
have been killed as well as the horse. This news made me look about me
to some purpose, and upon inquiring where I was I found I had come
two and a half miles out of my road. This good man I got to lay hold of
my horse's head and go with me to the right road, which he gladly did,
head uncovered. He told me that when he heard me call he came away
instantly, and did not stop to fetch his hat; he added, there were several
more men with him in the same room, but that none would stir when
they heard me call, though they knew what would become of me; how-
ever, this good man came instantly to rescue me from danger. He went
with me all the two miles and a half till he brought me upon the turnpike
road, when I gave him two shillings and thanks, and rode on my way.
Thank God for his preserving mercy! 'What am I, O Lord, or what
my father's house that thou shouldst thus visit me and bless me?'"
The following entry is the last in his diary :-
“In June, 1811, I was favoured with a visit to my parents, who were
stationed at Belper, and on my return, as I am wont to be at such times,
was very low-spirited. This season the good Spirit of the Lord made use
of to awaken me to see my present state of indifference and lukewarm-
ness. I observed that my visits home never were profitable to my
religious state. I was so glad to see my dear relatives and so often went
out on visits at those times that my mind was not kept in that peaceable
frame which is the privilege of every true believer. I saw the state that
I was in-that morality would not save me, that I was trifling with
God's most distinguished favours and privileges: 'tis true, that when in
* Probably it opened on one of the great lime-pits of the district, or
some equally dangerous place.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
27
my chamber, when no human eye saw me, I often could and did
rejoice, and at particular times I felt quite happy; but yet I did not
enjoy that communion with God, that sweet witness of the Spirit, which
is the characteristic of the man of God. To-day, July 10, Mr. Warren*
preached and showed the utility and indispensable necessity of receiving
the Holy Eucharist, which he in the afternoon administered to a goodly
number of whom I was one. At night he preached from 'And he said
unto them, Go ye into all the world, &c.'”
"Under this discourse in which the doctrines of Christianity
were explicitly and beautifully expounded, at the same time that the
privilege, utility and necessity of the witness of the Spirit was plainly
pointed out, I really became determined to take no rest till I knew my
part in the Redeemer's blood. Having made this resolution in the name
of Jehovah, I went the way to perform it; having got into my room and
fastened the door, I fell upon my knees, resolving not to cease crying
unto the Lord till he should vouchsafe to impart unto me his Spirit to
bear witness with mine that I was born of God. He only knows what I
felt then, for truly I was in a deplorable state. Such was the distress I
was in that I fell prostrate on the floor, just ready to despair, beginning
to think all was over, but striving to believe; then, then the Lord im-
parted unto me the desire of my heart, and so happy was I that I
besought that the Lord would, rather than let me turn again to the
beggarly elements of sin and folly, take me to himself! O Lord, how
shall I praise thee, for though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is
turned away from me and now thou comfortest me!"+
The following is the earliest of Dr. Beaumont's letters
which has been preserved:
TO HIS FATHER.
"Macclesfield, March 13, 1811.
"Dear Father,--We received yours of the 10th instant, and were ex-
tremely sorry to find that you were both so unwell, and hope that ere
now you are both recovered; we likewise received your preceding letter.
I am sorry that so much of neglect is discernible in not mentioning the
* Now Dr. Warren of Manchester, for whom Dr. Beaumont had much
respect and regard.
+ It is hardly necessary to remind the reader that what is called “the
direct witness of the Spirit" was a prominent subject of the preaching of
those great apostles Whitfield and Wesley, and indeed was the only
doctrine which they put forward distinctively for the acceptance of their
followers. This doctrine of a direct, personal, spiritual "witness," often
instantaneous in its communication, by the third person of the Trinity
to the pardon and acceptance of the penitent continues still to be the
creed of the Wesleyan body, though possibly not of them so exclusively
now as formerly.
་
28
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
receipt of the parcel sent from London in August, for which accept my
thanks, though I was rather disappointed in not finding a pocket Greek
Testament which I asked for: my chief reason for it is to take it to
chapel with me in order to compare the Lessons with it. I am in want
of several books, particularly some commentator on the Bible, some of
Wesley's works, and such like.
**
*
*
*
*
"We lately had a letter from Thomas (or rather John heard from him),
from which I was sorry to learn that he construed my not writing to him
as unkind; but as John wrote to him not long before, and I suppose
remembered me, I thought it unnecessary, besides considering the
postage. I know not how he is off for money, but I'm sure before yours
came to hand I had not sixpence; however I purpose writing to him in
a very few days.
*
"Mr.
left Macclesfield at the latter end of November, and now
resides at Essex, where he 'does duty.' In a letter to Mr. Lowe, if
I mistake not, he said he had preached to fourteen; less I suppose being
his general congregation. How this agrees with him I know not; there
is a considerable difference between a congregation consisting of between
one and two thousand and one of not more than ten persons. However
the place is congenial to his health, which he says is much improved.
Since his departure we had several candidates for the vacancy, several of
whom were at the house, Mr. L. being first churchwarden. One or two
seemed real Christians, but others disgraced their profession, especially
one who talked of everything but God and goodness, religion and happi-
ness, and in my opinion: was fit for anything but a minister of that holy
religion which he professed; and from his discourse after his sermon the
most proper answer (sic) would have been, Why all the people said, and
I said with them, and you said I was a clever fellow.' But, to be short,
is appointed by the patron of the church to the perpetual curacy, to
the general dissatisfaction and disapprobation of the congregation, the
complaint preaching dry morality (I suppose they mean only). I'm told
that many pews are thrown up. He comes about the middle of April,
and E. Morgan, from Holywell, who was at our house a little, and whose
conversation became the Gospel in all things (and that is what I chiefly
look at, for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh) does
duty in the mean time. I perceived amongst his books your 'Reposi-
tory,'* and he seems favourable to Methodism.
Sunday, Feb. 9, Mr. Smith opened the chapel in canonical hours;†
the congregation is not large then, but at night the chapel is full.
* A work written by Mr. Beaumont.
+ This was an innovation upon the ancient Wesleyan system, for so
little had the Wesleys an idea of establishing a dissenting community that
they prohibited the opening of their chapels in canonical hours, or the
administration of the sacraments in them.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
29
is a good preacher. has little commendable either in matter, de-
livery or person; but Mr. Barton I'm most partial to; his arguments are
sound and strong, his language pure, his advice persuasive and his de-
livery excellent. He has improved vastly.
“I was particularly fond of the morning preaching at eight o'clock, and
"always thought I benefited more then than at any other time. I see I've
much cause to be thankful for my spiritual advantages. I see the soul of
infinitely more importance than the body, and that its value, though ex-
cellently, is but inadequately set forth by the poet.
"Know'st thou the value of a soul immortal?
Behold this midnight pomp-worlds on worlds-
Amazing pomp! Redouble the amaze—
Ten thousand add, and twice ten thousand more,
Then weigh the whole, one soul outweighs them all.'
"I see that religion is not only good as preparatory to the world to
come but it answers Solomon's inquiry, 'Verily it is good for man in
this life, yea, all the days of his vain life, which he spendeth as a shadow.'
“John is well and joins me in duty to dear mother and love to our
brothers and sisters.
I remain your affectionate son,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
It is evident that at this time his reading was a good deal
directed to that class of authors of a past age who are
exquisitely ridiculed by the father of modern satire, Rabelais
-a class of whom Sir Edward Coke is a quaint example, and
Burton ("anatomy" Burton) a still more quaint and a better
known illustration, whose peculiarity of style consists in quot-
ing, or rather interlarding, Latin sentences, frequently in the
form merely of repetition of or text for the preceding or fol-
lowing English words.*
* Coke and Burton are put forward by no means as the most distin-
guished authors of this class, but merely as writers by whom this pe-
culiarity is remarkably displayed. Indeed during an extended period
all modern European literature displayed something of this characteristic,
which naturally followed the revival of letters, up to which time (and
indeed up to the sixteenth century, with but few exceptions) all that was
wise or elegant was embalmed in the learned languages. Nor is this
literary mosaic, so to speak, this elaborate adornment with what Tenny-
son calls
"jewels, five words long,
+
30
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
This appears from some of his letters at this period of his
youth which display the like peculiarity, one which quite
passed away with his boyhood. The following extract from
a letter of affectionate remonstrance to one of his own age
who was dear to him and had caused some anxiety by certain-
irregularities, is an example of this. Speaking of lying,
he says―
Consider, semel emissum volat irrevocabile verbum-a word once
spoken flies irrevocable. You may perhaps sometimes think it almost
necessary, but 'tis not so. Remember that for every idle word, much
more every wicked lying word, man must give an account. Improbi est
mendaciis fallere-it is the property of a wicked man to deceive with a lie.
Lying I think is of all sins the most criminal, because the most wilful and
the meanest of all crimes. Again you may think that lying sometimes is
advantageous, but know you not that God is the Lord, and he can do with
you as seemeth him good-be assured by lying you never can secure
yourself from any evil-by it you never can forward yourself; and
besides, if it did apparently advantage you for a season, but which it has
not done, what would it profit you to gain the whole world and lose
your own soul? Beware of lying then, for all liars shall be turned into
hell.
"2. 'Swearing is become habitual with you.' O! quam incredibile
est! What an almost incredible thing is this, that you, who have en-
joyed the unspeakable blessings of a religious education, should thus dis-
grace yourself-disgrace the cause of religion, but above all grieve so
good a God! Jurare nisi ubi necesse est, gravi viro parum convenit—for
out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. The conversa-
tion of a man is generally the true criterion of his character. Oh! then,
do beware of that daring impiety, do leave off that abominable practice
of swearing, of taking the Lord's name in vain, of using it as a common
expletive. I fear you are remiss in your attendances upon the ordinances
of God; beware that you lose not all fear of that Being who has created
you by his wisdom and goodness, upheld you by his power, and particu-
larly favoured you with so many incomparable blessings up to the pre-
sent moment. Consider his eye is ever over you. He spieth out all your
ways, yea he knows the very thoughts and intentions of the heart. Con-
sider these things, lay them to heart. If any good is to be done you
That on the stretched forefinger of old Time
Sparkle for ever,"
without a certain force and beauty where it is genuine, and the work of
writers of profound erudition, who can concentrate the wisdom of ages in
this form. Take for a well-known instance Lord Bacon's masterly
smaller essays. It is the affectation of this genuine writing by ignorant
men, or on inappropriate themes, that deserves the lash of Rabelais,
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
31
must come to Christ that your heart may be changed, for as long as your
heart remains bad all your resolutions and promises will be proved vain
and ineffectual as in times that are past. Oh! then remember your
Creator in the days of your youth; do not, because sentence against evil
is not speedily executed, fully set your heart to do evil.
Vilius argentum
est auro, virtutibus aurum-silver is cheaper than gold, and gold cheaper
than virtue. Set God before you, have an eye to futurity; if every good
desire is now choked and every sacred drawing is slighted, if God is con-
tinually knocking at the door of your heart, and you always in fact reply
'Depart from me, for I desire not the knowledge of thy ways'-how
heinous is your sin! Remember, God's Spirit will not always strive with
you; therefore prepare for the great and terrible day of the Lord, for it
cometh as a thief in the night; delay not to give God your heart, seek his
favour which is better than life, repent and be converted while the time
of refreshing comes from the presence of the Lord, come out from among
the ungodly and be separate, touch not the unclean thing, that God may
receive you, that he may be unto you a Father, and you may be unto him
Put away levity and trifling that you may live a godly, righteous
and sober life to his glory. Cease to do evil, learn to do well, and,
finally, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are honest, what-
soever things are pure, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be
any virtue, if there be any praise, think, oh! think on these things."
a son.
As his piety gradually became more and more earnest and
pervading he directed his mind towards the service of God as
a minister of his church, and this object became a fixed and
engrossing desire, so that ultimately he determined on accom-
plishing it and devoting his labours to those Divine subjects
on which his heart was firmly set. As soon as he determined
to seek the clerical office, it became a question in what posi-
tion he should assume it. His mother's relatives who, though
never fully reconciled to her or her family, were attentive to
her and desirous to advance her children's interests, wished
that he should become a clergyman of the Church of England,
and would have undertaken to advance him to and in that
position. But, after full consideration, he determined to
enter the Methodist Society as one of its preachers. He had
been a member of that community for long, and had been
born and nurtured in association with it, and he felt that in
it he would command greater and more congenial opportuni-
ties for putting out his talents to interest than in the easier
and calmer but-then at least-more frigid and formal com-
munion with the Established Church, and he preferred to
labour in that field which afforded greater promise of fruit
32
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
to his Master than of advantage to himself. His father was
opposed to this determination; he had experienced a Metho-
dist preacher's life and had been laborious and successful in
it during many years, and he considered it to be one which
did not give, even to a man of ability, influence or opportuni-
ties sufficient to compensate for those of which it deprived
him and for the extreme labour which it imposed. More-
over his son's health seemed to be too delicate for the burden
of such a position, for in early life he was affected by debility
and a consumptive tendency which afterwards disappeared,
though a permanent liability to bronchial affections super-
vened. But though under these circumstances the decision
in favour of Methodism did not meet with his father's sanc-
tion, he did not meet with any strenuous opposition to its
being followed out, and it was accordingly determined that
Joseph Beaumont should become a Methodist preacher.
It is a circumstance of some interest to Wesleyans and is
undoubtedly a curious coincidence that Dr. Beaumont's fa-
ther, in his consultations on this change in his son's position,
after the domestic forum had determined upon it, obtained
the opinion of that eminent man Dr. Bunting, who for an
unusual period has been distinguished by his influential
position in the Wesleyan Society, and between whom and
Dr. Beaumont there was for many years so marked and con-
sistent a difference in their views of Wesleyan polity as to
attract the attention not only of all that society but of con-
siderable sections of the church and the world and, from
the prominent and consistent part which each took in
Methodist affairs, to assume the form of a systematic Metho-
distic opposition. A letter from Mr. Beaumont to his son
informed him of this consultation and of Dr. Bunting's
favourable opinion of the determination at which the latter
had arrived. Indeed this aspirant had already shown so
much of promise that his entrance upon the clerical office
was welcomed by all who were acquainted with his character.
Perhaps his father was the person who most discouraged the
accomplishment of his ardent desire, and this not only from
his own particular objections to his adopting the life of
a Methodist preacher but, singularly enough, from apparently
a want of confidence in his prospects as a minister; perhaps
་
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
33
from the same elderly gentleman's view of affairs, which in
the first instance led Mr. Beaumont to place him in the
position of a country tradesman, though aware that his tastes
and powers fitted him for a more active and influential
position. In a letter dated January 1813, the father writes
thus to his son:-"There are several things will make
against the ministry for you; as first, your stammering.
This I fear cannot be so conquered as to make you an
agreeable public speaker and allow that acuteness of expres-
sion and ready elocution which are so pleasing. Secondly,
your state of health would not admit of the physical and
mental exertion which is necessary for a zealous minister; at
least without a great change. Thirdly, as things now stand
in the religious world, men with small abilities are but little
thought of. In fact, I think no one should be a minister
but those who dare not resist the call of God." Singular
indeed do these sentences sound as applied to such a son by
his father when they are read with the light of his subsequent
career, and strange must they have seemed to himself, who
felt the sacred impulse incontrollable within him and knew
full well that his tongue was not cold, nor his abilities small,
nor his object time-serving.
"When nineteen years of age," Dr. Beaumont himself
wrote long afterwards, "I delivered my first sermon in com-
pliance with the irresistible persuasion of my own mind that
such was my duty and with the urgent entreaty of my
minister, and on that occasion I preached from 'Repent ye
and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out.' I was
accompanied to the chapel by the superintendent preacher,
who sat behind me in the pulpit. That trial was decisive,
and I was assured by my friends and minister and others with
whom I was associated, that I must forthwith leave all
and follow Christ in the great vocation of the Christian
ministry."
It is well known that the Wesleyan system provides for the
employment of lay preachers who are denominated "local
preachers" in distinction from the itinerant preachers who
are formally set apart by ordination for their office; and it is
customary for candidates for the Wesleyan ministry first to
become and preach for some time as local preachers. Dr.
D
1
34
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Beaumont however showed such decided ability that he never
passed through his novitiate, that is, he never was appointed
as a local preacher formally, though for some time before
being ordained he preached in Chesterfield and its neighbour-
hood as if he had been duly appointed to that office.
At the Conference of 1813, when only nineteen years of
age, he was brought forward by the Rev. Robert Crowther,
and was then set apart for the regular ministry. There can
be no doubt that if ever man undertook a sacred office from
the purest of motives, and under the inspiring influence of a
sense of duty to fulfil, of a part to play in extending the know-
ledge of the Gospel and ameliorating the moral and spiritual
condition of his fellow-men, Dr. Beaumont was so actuated in
this the leading step in his career. He had carefully weighed
what this great thing was; he had constantly and prayerfully
inquired into his own heart, and searched to find that he
really had that love to God and purity of mind, as well as the
singleness of purpose and intellectual gifts which were essen-
tial to justify his adoption of his sacred calling. He always, as
well at that time as afterwards, spoke and wrote of this entrance
upon his new responsibilities as a matter of the deepest solem-
nity; and having thus felt and determined it was, as might have
been expected, the opening of a career of the highest usefulness
and activity and devotion when he was ordained, though so im-
mature in age, to the office of the Christian priesthood. Sidney
Smith has described, in his own inimitable way, the life of
the "poor working man of God, the first and purest pauper
in the hamlet," but ever the devoted pastor and kind gentle-
man. Such was the life which Dr. Beaumont now com-
menced, and such the way in which he lived it to the end. A.
career with less promise of this world, or fewer of those agrémens
which may compensate in great measure for pecuniary defi-
ciencies than that which the life of a Methodist preacher
affords to any young man of taste, ability, or education, when
its advantages are tested by any of the rules according to
which men ordinarily select their professions, could not well
be conceived. The condition "passing rich on forty pounds
a-year" is, in a rural parish, wealth itself compared with the
financial position of one who might have to look to his stipend
as an itinerant preacher for the means of supporting himself
-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
35
and his family, located, as he would frequently find himself,
not in such a happy, independent position as that of Gold-
smith's parson, but in an expensive town, and amidst other
disadvantages. The constant toil-not those conveniently
arranged duties which are termed pastoral, but the imperious
calls of fixed public services occurring in various places, re-
moved often by ten or twelve miles from one another, or even
as far round a common centre-such toil requires immense
power of labour and energy, and certainly, according to any
worldly principle of valuation, deserves a very ample remu-
neration. The absence of independence either of the govern-
ing clerical assembly or of the popular element (both acting
on no uniform code or principle, but exposed to all the influences
that clerical assemblies and popular wills are subject to), is
itself a grave objection which must prejudice such a position
in the eyes of a man tenacious of his self-respect.
Nor was Dr. Beaumont in the least insensitive to any
of
these drawbacks; on the contrary, all his habits, tastes and
character rendered him particularly subject to their influence;
but the governing element in his decision in favour of thus
devoting his life-the ruling motive of his heart-was a con-
sideration much higher than the ground on which these ob-
jections arise. He had what can be called by no more cold
or measured term than a passion for doing good; he felt the
faculty for achieving that object strong within his breast. The
passion and faculty conjoined, and the object approving itself
to his best judgment, how could one framed and endowed as
he was do otherwise than as he did? And he did well, not
only testing his determination by the lofty test of an im-
perious sense of duty and an estimate of the sacred import-
ance of the ministerial office, but also well for himself in
selecting that career for which it may be thought he was, on
the whole, peculiarly fitted, and which reciprocally was pecu-
liarly calculated to call out and stimulate, and thus satisfy
and elevate, all his powers, or at least those powers with which
he was specially endowed.
It has frequently been a subject of speculation with Dr.
Beaumont's friends, whether, in this personal and social sense,
in respect of his own happiness and self-respect, his vocation
was that for which he was most fitted. Those who did not
36
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
know him personally and well had no means of ap-
preciating what those who had the opportunity were con-
stantly more and more observant of-how profound was his
intellectual faculty, how great the grasp of his mind. Its
expansiveness, its delicacy, refinement and elevation were
easily seen by the public at large; but those who brought
their minds alongside of his were invariably struck not only
with this, and with the various character of his tastes and
knowledge, but with the depth and nervous power of his in-
tellect. That he had the practical ability, and foresight, and
steadiness, and courage which would have afforded him oppor-
tunities of success in commerce, there can be no doubt; and
for science in various branches he had a peculiar aptitude and
love; but in particular he possessed in a remarkable measure
those gifts, and what is as much or more to the purpose that
adjustment of them, which are usually considered to ensure
success at the bar: and there can be no doubt that he was
well fitted to attain either as a popular advocate or in more
severe forensic efforts the highest eminence. He possessed
courage which made him perfectly independent of any sneer
or opposition, determination which made him superior to all
discouragements, the gift of language in a degree almost un-
rivalled, a sportive and luminous fancy, acuteness of observa-
tion and comprehension, promptness and that power of com-
manding men's sympathies which seems to those who neither
have it nor are subject to it to be a sort of sorcery, and
conjoined with these gifts were at his command a mind of
logical accuracy and powers of labour probably unsurpassed
even at the bar. These when united with an impressive pre-
sence and a rich and flexible voice are faculties which must
have commanded no common success in a profession which
offers so many allurements both of honour and profit as does
that of the long robe in this country.
In the Church of England he might doubtless have ex-
ercised the same powers which gave him such success
amongst the Wesleyans, and might at the same time have
secured a greater amount of ease and possibly of personal
influence, and would have found in it, as indeed he did
although a Wesleyan, a cordial appreciation of his character
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
37
and some opportunities of influence and for the exercise of
his abilities which his actual position could not afford.
But all this is vain jangling. When an impulse of so
sacred and powerful a character as that which drew Dr. Beau-
mont to become a Methodist preacher commands, the prompt-
ings of a heart such as his must be obeyed. Yet, indepen-
dently of such influences, Dr. Beaumont appears to have been
born to that position. It was his proper lot, and none other
would have secured to him in so great a measure personal
happiness amidst the toil of life, the attainment of the ob-
ject always the most dear to him of aiding in the propagation
of religion, and opportunities of cultivating those lofty
aspirations after a better world which, amongst the most
devout and conscientious of men, are too often deadened and
effaced in the arduous struggle of life, which would at the
same time have enabled him to assist as he loved to do in
improving the physical, social and intellectual condition of
mankind. In truth he was an enthusiast, and such were
the objects of his enthusiasm. His preaching was no formal
dogmatism, his working no exact performance of a duty, his
visitations no perfunctory discharge of formalities, his con-
versation no mere conventional occupation, his friendships no
cold, well-assorted connections, the creatures of civility, pro-
priety or convenience, his domestic life no measured, careful
fulfilment of the sacred responsibilities which it imposed-
but all his work in the world was the glowing, hearty, earnest
exhibition of a man filled with a superabundance of energy
and of powers physical, intellectual, moral and affectionate.
His life was the ardent expression of the enthusiastic ardour
which, sanctified in its direction and chastened by a sound
judgment, moulded his career into the form which it assumed,
and this impetuous overflowing spirit would never have had
its cravings satisfied by a professional sphere with self for a
centre and an appropriate circumference.
His passion was in especial a passion for preaching-not
for speaking, or essaying or discoursing, but for simple, ener-
getic, fervid preaching of the Gospel. The Established Church
in its regular ministry (and Dr. Beaumont never was
framed to exist in any anomalous or eccentric position)
would hardly have been for him the happiest or most con-
38
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
genial sphere, as it would scarcely perhaps at this day
have afforded him scope enough for the accomplishment of
this which he felt to be his "high calling." Amongst the
Wesleyans and other communities, from whose service his
position as a Methodist did not debar him, he found on the
other hand abundant opportunities for the satisfaction of his
evangelical enthusiasm-opportunities of which he availed
himself to the utmost, far beyond what the limit of man's
strength allows with impunity. Dr. Beaumont then is thus
'far in his right place. To him has been given that lot, which
falls indeed to few, of uniting in life obedience to the dictates
of Providence, to a controlling sense of duty, with the fullest
scope for the exercise of his most ardent and individual
feelings.
·
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
t
39
CHAPTER III.
1813-1821.
Most of the readers of this volume will be aware that the
Wesleyan clergy are represented in, or rather are governed
by, an assembly of their own members called the Conference
which amongst its other functions allocates the preachers
amongst the various circuits. These "circuits" are pastoral
divisions of the Wesleyan churches and comprise certain
districts of greater or less extent, sometimes great in size and
small in Methodistic importance, sometimes comprising only
a few congregations in a limited urban area but considerable
in influence, wealth and numbers. To each of these circuits
are appointed yearly one, two, three or four preachers who
amongst themselves rank as superintendent and subordinate,
and who are ordinarily received by the circuits as their stated
and authorised pastors for the time being. It is the usual
custom for the "quarterly meetings" of the Wesleyan laity
which are periodically held in each circuit to invite such
preachers as they desire to "travel" amongst them, and
while the Conference does not consider itself bound to
carry out any such engagements into which any of its
own members may have entered it ordinarily adopts them,
except that it never appoints a preacher for more than three
years consecutively to the same circuit. Such is the practice
of the "Wesleyan itinerant system”—a system in the first
instance instituted by Wesley in its original form from a sort
of necessity in order to distribute the best educated and most
efficient of his preachers over the country, and one which still
forms an essential part of the Methodist polity. This system
has in the present day its advantages as well as its disadvan-
40
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
tages in its general operation, but it is certainly the most
unfortunate conceivable as regards the comfort and personal
and domestic interests of the preachers themselves.
Dr. Beaumont was first appointed to the Warrington cir-
cuit in Lancashire, and here he immediately secured popula-
rity and influence. In a letter to his father written shortly
before his entrance into the ministry in which he expresses
himself as shrinking from the responsibilities of the minis-
terial office he mentions his unfitness to undertake constant
preaching by reason of his deficient stock of sermons,
remarking that in the midst of his business occupations
he not only had failed to secure opportunity to prepare an
adequate number but that he had in his probationary period
of preaching been frequently obliged to deliver himself ex
tempore. This necessity now ceased, and he sedulously im-
proved those opportunities which his new mode of life afforded
for study, for which the most attentive discharge of his pas-
toral duties left him a more ample leisure than he could
secure from the daily cares which had formerly occupied his
attention. The result of this is doubtless apparent in an
almost incredible number of sermons with which he carefully
filled many volumes in his early life-sermons which were
evidently not mere studies, but which were still quite of a
distinct character from those of the period of his more gen-
eral reputation, inasmuch as they display an accuracy and
logical formality of outline to which he became indifferent
when his amazing exuberance of ideas and fertility of rheto-
rical expression afterwards gave to his oratory the effect of an
irrepressible outburst of pent-up feeling which he was power-
less to keep under control. His preaching at once produced
results which drew attention to him, and secured him consi-
derable influence and reputation. Its evangelical character-
evangelical in the true sense of that much abused word-
was evidenced by its efficacy. The first fruits of his ministry
were abundant, and amongst them were numbered by a happy
coincidence a gentleman and lady, husband and wife, who
were both during the first year of his sojourn at Warrington
brought into the church of Christ through his agency and
with whom he maintained in after life a friendship which
only ceased with their death. Warrington was, moreover, as
*
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
41
1
indeed it long continued, remarkable even in Lancashire for
the prevalence of the Unitarian creed. The Unitarian minister
there was a man distinguished for his learning and ability,
and that body of religionists numbered in their ranks many
of the most able and prominent persons of the vicinage.
Apart from his general evangelical success amongst the peo-
ple of Warrington, here was a special field for Dr. Beaumont's
labours, and it is certain that he obtained a considerable in-
fluence for good by his first ministrations over many of the
persons belonging to this sect who were led to attend them.
To a series of elaborate letters which were written to him at
this period, as was believed by the Unitarian minister though
forwarded anonymously, and in which many doctrinal points.
of the Christian faith were discussed with great learning and
painstaking in reference to his own sermons preached from
time to time, and to the stimulus which these afforded, he
afterwards attributed in a great measure the sound and accu-
rate faith which he possessed in the matter of the "Christian
verity." Yet he was not led now nor did he at any time
enter into any pulpit polemics upon the doctrine of the Tri-
nity-or indeed upon any doctrinal points. Such subjects,
when introduced by him in the pulpit, were never discussed
in a polemical tone, for he considered that controversies were
not the appropriate spiritual food for a congregation of Chris-
tians professing a unity of creed.
In Warrington Dr. Beaumont had for his superintendent
the late Rev. P. Garrett, and between them sprang up a warm
and lasting friendship. Mrs. Garrett well remembers the un-
tiring, restless industry and zeal with which the young preacher
pursued the severest course of study, at the same time that
he was untiring in his devotion to the other duties incident
to his position. She has mentioned that all who knew his
self-denying and laborious habits and had the opportunity of
observing his earnest religious character displayed in every-day
life foretold confidently his future distinction. He resided
under her roof and took a paternal interest in superintending
the education of her daughter, and in a thousand ways mani-
fested that genial kindliness by which he won the hearts as he
commanded the respect of whoever came in contact with him.
His hesitation in speech was at this time felt to be a more
1
42
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
serious evil than it had before appeared to him, and he placed
himself under the care of the late Mr. Thelwall, under whose
roof and supervision he for some time resided with a view of
subduing this impediment. It was however some years before
he succeeded in this object as he desired and strove with
untiring determination to do.
The following letter to one of his ministerial friends was
written at this time, and throws some light on the feelings
with which he undertook his new functions:
'My dear Friend,-In compliance with your request I take up my
pen to trouble you with a few lines, and should have written earlier but
am only now settled after my fortnight's tour round the circuit. I
remember writing in my boyish days at school a pretty long and suc-
cessful essay on the pleasures and advantages of early friendship; what
I then wrote about I now feel. Among all the advantages which attend
friendship there is not one more valuable than the liberty it admits in
laying open the various affections of one's mind without reserve or dis-
guise. It is to exercise that happy privilege as well as to fulfil your wish
I now address you.
“The situation of a Methodist preacher I sometimes think is very peculiar.
Few persons seem to have more friends than he has, and yet the number
of his real, valuable friends is not often very great. It is not a little
strange that ministers though professedly and actually given up to those
practices and pursuits the very tendency and nature of which is spiritual
and sacred should be so often void of the life and power of godliness in
their own hearts. I really for my own part find that though my studies,
pursuits, engagements, are all of such a nature, yet it is very difficult to
keep up the life of God in my soul-always to maintain both in the
pulpit and study and elsewhere a direct reference to the Divine glory;
and yet I see more than ever that without this, without personal piety,
individual devotedness to God and deadness to the world, I myself may
and certainly shall become a castaway! Pulpit work is my increasing
delight, in my study and in the pulpit I find my most happy and
exalted moments, and what I feel in the one is generally apparent in the
other.
My heart's desire and chiefest ambition is to become an able minister
of the New Testament, and that in the exercise of my ministerial functions
I may both save myself and those that hear me. I often suffer much
from a languor I feel in both preparatory studies and public ministra-
tions; whether this feeling is not sometimes inevitable from the corruptible
body pressing down the soul and from it being the natural consequence
of sometimes too close application and too zealous exertion is I think
possible, and if so it is guiltless except where it is yielded to. May God
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
43
ľ
assist me with his powerful Spirit and render me serviceable to his Church
and to the world!
.
"That your health and life may be long continued for the benefit of
your family and the world, that your ministry may be increasingly
popular, successful and useful, that your labours may be of extensive and
lasting service to the church of Christ, that in a good old age, full of years,
honour and usefulness, you may come to the grave ripe for immortality,
that having served your day and generation you may rest the rest of
faithful and zealous ministers, and that when pastors and their flocks
shall be assembled before the God of Gods in Sion you may then appear
at the head of a goodly band redeemed from all iniquity, whom you shall
present before God, even the Father, with joy unutterable and glory
inconceivable, saying 'Here am I and the children thou hast given me,'
is the prayer of
"Your affectionate friend and brother in Christ,
Jos. BEAUMONT."
From Warrington he removed in 1815 to Prescot, and on
this station he formed two dear ties to earth-one the most
precious to him and the other highly valued. The former was
his connection with her whom he has left to mourn him in
widowhood. The latter was his friendship with that distin-
guished critic, divine and scholar, Dr. Adam Clarke-the
brightest ornament of which Methodism can boast to the world,
and between whom and Dr. Beaumont there existed from their
first acquaintance the warmest regard. Dr. Clarke was re-
siding at Millbrook near St. Helen's, at which place Dr. Beau-
mont had his abode, and the residence of Mrs. Beaumont's family
-the Mortons-was at Hardshaw Hall in the same neighbour-
hood. This family was of Scotch extraction but had settled
in Ireland and may be called Irish. Mr. Morton was a man
of character, attainments and piety, who had already become
nearly allied with one distinguished evangelist. He had
travelled much with the now extinct corps of Royal Irish
Artillery to which he belonged and, when returning from
service in India, he and his family who had accompanied him
thither were obliged to come with their convoy by way of
China. There a friendship was formed with Dr. Morrison-the
pioneer of Chinese missions as well as a distinguished lin-
guist—which resulted in his eldest daughter becoming Mrs.
Morrison. This collateral connection was the source of subse-
quent events of moment in Dr. Beaumont's domestic history.
44
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
i
Although his acquaintance with Miss Morton commenced
in 1816, the marriage did not take place for some years, and
from Prescot Dr. Beaumont removed, still a bachelor, to
Denby Dale, a circuit of which he used to indulge in some
amusing reminiscences as to the hardness of his life, the
more than ordinary abundance of work and scarcity of every-
thing else either for the outer or inner, the mortal or im-
mortal man which he there met with. Bingley, near Brad-
ford, was the next scene of his life. In this circuit he was
especially useful and especially happy-indeed his happiness
seemed to be ever full and yet ever increasing as his sphere
of labour enlarged. But against Bingley he placed a red
letter in the name of friendship as well as because of the
productive field of labour which he found there, for there he
also met with some friends for whom he always felt a strong
affection, and in this scene of his early labours are his name
and memory still precious and cherished. The following
letter was written from Bingley, in October 1817, to one of
his cousins at Holmfirth :
My dear Cousin,-Yours of the 9th inst. I duly received, and will
frankly tell you that were I not at all times heartily glad to receive any-
thing from you, inasmuch as a letter containing but a single line tells
me at least that you are well enough to write, I should scarcely thank
you for a letter so few in its number of lines, so light in the sum of its
contents, and so barren of all that kind of information in which of course
I must feel more or less interested. However on one condition, and on
one only, I am willing to forgive you; it is that on which we were for-
given when children by our parents-viz., that you' promise never to do
the like again.'
(6
Through the tender mercy of my indulgent God, I am in the enjoy-
ment of good health, and encircled by kind friends. My present situa-
tion is altogether a very desirable one: here I dwell in the bosom of a
family pious, happy and affectionate, where I have all things to enjoy.
The circuit is very compact, and I am only one night in a month from
home: this with me is a considerable object, as it furnishes me with a
large share of time to devote to purposes of study and mental culture.
The Bingley new chapel is an excellent place of worship, but built I
think on a little too large a scale. The society in Bingley is however by
no means in a flourishing condition, though in general our congregations
are great and the prospects before us encouraging.
"Of late my views have become enlarged of the vast responsibility of
the ministerial position-of the high and varied qualifications necessary
to a proper discharge of its functions-and my soul pants with warmer
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
45
desires than usual that success and prosperity may crown my feeble en-
deavours.
"To be a wise, an able, a faithful and successful minister of the
New Testament-oh! how vast the thought, how august the character,
how high the calling, how arduous the task, how solemn the duties,
and how rich, how vast, how glorious the reward! Such is the
very height of the ambition of your unworthy cousin-but what an
immense distance there is between him and such a character! Well,
let you and me urge on our way to the attainment of personal holi-
ness: this—this is the end by every one to be devoutly desired-and
let us recollect and ever act in consistency with the principle that a time
is fast arriving when everything else will be seen and acknowledged to be
but as the small dust of the balance-altogether light and unavailable.
Thomas is well, and were he at my elbow would, I am sure, beg to be
affectionately remembered to you all. On Sabbath next I have to preach
a charity sermon at Guisely. Pray when do you intend to see who lives
at that place? Give my best Christian love to all your household and to
all friends, particularly to grandmother, and believe me to remain, dear
cousin,
•
"Yours most truly,
"J. BEAUMONT."
Through the whole of these years he never relaxed his habits
of regular unremitting study, to which he devoted all the
hours which he could secure consistently with the zealous
performance of his pulpit and pastoral duties. In the de-
partment of theology he never devoted much attention to
theological criticism as an independent study or otherwise
than in its connection with what may be called practical the-
ology; but his attention was carefully directed to the distin-
guished writers on ecclesiastical history and government, and
to the great sermonists who distinguished in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries the English and French pulpits.
Nor did he in the investigation of these more directly pro-
fessional subjects allow himself to forget the claims which
general literature and his favourite pursuit of science had
upon him. But the prophecies which those who feared for
his strength had made were not devoid of foundation. The
frequent preachings extended over considerable districts, when
he could not afford any auxiliary means of locomotion, and
had to depend either on his own pedestrian powers or on
chance assistance of his people, united with a regular habit of
pastoral visitation and a rigid and close system of study,
were of themselves sufficient to test his constitution rudely.
46
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
He often said that covetousness was one of the basest of
vices, except when it took the form of covetousness to do
good, and he had thus early begun to be "covetous to do
good." His talents had already so exposed him to tempta-
tions to extraordinary efforts that he now commenced the
practice of supplementary voluntary labours, which he carried
out up to the close of his life. The symptoms of consumption
which had before exhibited themselves returned and caused
his friends much anxiety on his account, and it was thought
desirable to secure for him some appointment in the south of
England. The following extracts are from two of his father's
letters, and show what serious results were anticipated from
his ardour at this time :-
"I have told you that your constitution will not bear great exertion,
and therefore posting about to so many missionary meetings must en-
danger your health. I should suppose that Epworth would be as warm
as either Hammersmith or Brighton. But I believe that you ought not
to take upon you any additional and extraordinary work, but even spar-
ingly exert yourself at home."
"The rate at which you have studied, and the exertion of body you
have used, I have always feared would upset your constitution, because
your frame is weak, therefore both mental and bodily exertion must either
be proportioned to it, or it will, it must, upset the whole. This I have
long been afraid of."
In other similar letters he was urged to abandon for a time
and in any event to moderate his labours. His health how-
ever was re-established, and he was removed in quite a dif-
ferent direction from that which had been desired, and crossed
that Tweed which was then by no means a mere name, as in
these days of steam worship it has become. He was in 1819
appointed to Glasgow and became a denizen of that city.
But, though this migration was at the time undesired, he de-
termined to turn it to advantage in what was the seed time
of his life, and this he did by availing himself of the uni-
versity, in which he now attended the "humanity" classes,
taking care however scrupulously not to permit these
studies to interfere in any way with his pulpit and pastoral
duties. His first impressions of Scotland and its people do
not appear to have been so favourable as those which were
afterwards made upon him, and indeed the Southerns usually
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
47
pass through similar phases of feeling in their relations with
that granitic country and equally granitic social system-
witness frequent evidences contained in the various welcome
and valuable publications which have of late years given to
the world the thinkings, sayings and doings of many of that
distinguished coterie (or rather that succession of distin-
guished coteries) of Englishmen which adorned the Scottish
capital for some years preceding and following the commence-
ment of this century, of whom Lord Webb Seymour, Horner,
Mackintosh, Sydney Smith and others are gone and of
whom indeed Lords Lansdowne and Brougham alone remain.
These memoirs show a curious conformity in the impressions,
both favourable and unfavourable, which the various features
of Edinburgh and its society made on their minds.
Very few of Dr. Beaumont's letters up to this time have
been preserved, or at least very few are accessible to the
writer, the lapse of time and the
"Cruel severances of envious years"
having removed many of his early friends and dispersed the
papers which might otherwise have been his best memoirs;
for he commenced early in life the habit of regular and fre-
quent epistolary correspondence, which even in his busiest
days he practised. The following letters however give some
account of his position in Glasgow. The first of these is ad-
dressed to an early and much esteemed friend, the Rev. John
Bowers, and that following to his brother Thomas, who was
of his family next to himself in age, his old school-fellow
and, in early life especially, one of his most frequent corre-
spondents :-
Glasgow, Nov. 1, 1819.
My dear Friend,-Believe me it is with great pleasure that I now
proceed to the fulfilment of a promise which may indeed be two months
old but which with propriety could not have been fulfilled earlier, as
time alone could make me master of information worth communicating.
I write, thank God, in good health-better I do not know that I ever en-
joyed; and, circumstances taken into the account (such as that the
Tweed lies betwixt me and that country and kindred I feel are far dis-
tant) not in bad spirits. Should you ask how I like Scotland,' I
cannot make a reply more consistent with truth than that which is daily
made to a thousand questions, 'pretty well.' The spread of Methodism
in this city is considerable-its respectability very moderate. Our chapels
48
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
7
I
at present are in number three, in size large, and the congregations good.
say at present, because such is the load of debt and so heavily is it felt
by the Trustees, that it is in contemplation to sell one of them, and so
lighten the burden.
"I have not as yet had opportunity to hear any of the eminent
preachers, with the exception of the most popular of all, Dr. Chalmers;
and then I heard not a sermon but a lecture, composed of observations
preliminary to a course of lectures which he is instituting on the Epistle
to the Romans. I was told that he was much below himself on that
occasion: that of course I should not have known had it not been told
me, but one thing I know-however much or little he was below himself,
he was a good way above his audience, and yet they tried to understand
him, and doubtless felt his meaning in some parts. He is one quite sui
generis, having a class of thought peculiar to himself, novel, original and
bold, and a class of phrase as peculiar as his thought. He is, in the
best and highest sense of the word, a great man, and to me seems destined
to be a burning and a shining light. Next to this rare character in point
of popularity as a minister, but perhaps equal in real worth, is Dr.
Wardlaw. For him a splendid and imposing chapel is being erected
which it is expected will be opened for worship in the course of a few
weeks. Of a considerable majority of the other ministers in this vast and
crowded city, whether in the establishment or out of the establishment,
burgher or anti-burgher, it may be asked, 'What do they more than
others?' Glasgow is in my opinion as a circuit very desirable, but
chiefly so to a married man, the law of the circuit now being, that the
single man shall reside at Paisley. This law indeed has not been ex-
ecuted on the writer, a vote being passed in his favour at the quarter-day,
fixing his residence in the city until at any rate the expiration of college
term, that is, until the end of April. I am attending at present the logic
and rhetoric class and so far am turned collegian, but without either
intention or prospect of literary honours. Even if I had ambition this
way, it could not be gratified owing to the probably very limited term of
my stay here, as (from various causes which I have not now room to de-
tail) it is not impossible that this is the last year that this circuit will be
allowed a single man. The Scotch are not without sense, and time, that
proves all things, is to prove that they are not deficient in affection—but
no further time is necessary to prove to me that, generally speaking, they
are dirty, proud and obstinate.
“The most interesting spectacle that has occurred to me since I left
good old England is presented in the streets of the city on Sabbath-days
-then all the main streets are literally thronged with well-behaved
crowds from morning till night that, with the greatest decorum and
much apparent devotion, are passing to and from the different places of
worship. Of the form of godliness there is much more in this than in any
other place in which I have been; but whether the power thereof prevails
in proportion, may be more than questioned.
"I have felt much of Divine presence and blessing in my pulpit
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
49
labours here, and have frequently (to use an expressive term) been un-
usually ‘drawn out' in preaching. I am looking for a large measure of
personal religion and a greater degree of ministerial success. I feel that
I am an unprofitable servant-but my duty is my delight. Let me
have the pleasure of a letter from you as soon as convenient.
bless you.
God.
"Yours most truly,
"J. BEAUMONT.
“ P.S.—Kind regards to Mrs. B. I have no room, had I inclination, to
say anything respecting the doings of the people in these parts on the
subject of Reform: a numerous meeting has been held without the city
this afternoon, but all is peace."
Glasgow, Feb. 28, 1820.
'My dear Brother,-Yours of the 17th came duly to hand and met a
hearty welcome.
In this city all is confusion
and alarm-so great is the number of Radicals to be found in it, and
to so serious an extent has pike-making been going on. Many thousands
of these weapons were to be delivered within a few days hence. Happily
however for the country the vigilance of the magistrates has succeeded
in detecting some scores of these men while holding private meetings,
making pikes, &c., and they are safely lodged in the Tolbooth, or city
gaol. For some months past a pike manufactory has been going forward
with great vigour in a pit near the city, into which a forge and all neces-
sary apparatus had been introduced. I do not however apprehend any
material danger-the promptness of the measures adopted by the local
authorities of the city and the frequency of detection of the malcontents
and their means, seem to be a shield from any serious mischief. Radical-
ism and poverty have frowned sadly upon our societies, and have thrown
us into considerable adversity.
For my own part, amidst all the tumult and agitation with which I am
surrounded and of which I am obliged to be something more than a witness
and a spectator, my mind is kept in perfect peace. I never rode higher,
never so high above the vicissitudes and distractions, the contentions and
divisions of the external church as now. One reason is that I no longer
look on this or that society as the Church' but as forming a part-a
very small part-of the great whole of which the frame of the visible
church is composed; and, as storms in the natural world are necessary
to purify the atmosphere by which it is surrounded, so troubles may be
necessary to the maintenance of the purity and the zeal of any particular
part of the Church of Christ. There runs through the bulk of our leaders
and society here a spirit of radicalism in religious matters-of course in
the government of such a people difficulties have arisen that have been
neither few nor small. I have much to be thankful for that in the midst
of troublesome scenes around me both in the world and in the Church,
my
health has been excellent, my spirits unusually good and my minis-
terial power greater than I ever knew it to be for six months together.
E
50
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
"
1
Yesterday was to me a blessed day—I had great freedom in body and
mind while preaching the unsearchable riches of Christ. A few nights
ago my mind was most deeply affected while reading the memoirs of Mrs.
Stevens in the last two months' magazines; all the sluices of my soul
were opened, and I was melted before the gracious God, and he at that time
made such a manifestation of himself to me as the God with whom is for-
giveness, as my poor heart has not been blessed with for some years.
Oh, that I could closer cleave to him whom my soul loveth! Oh, for
that holiness which was possessed by that dear woman-for that sweet-
ness and quietness, purity and ardour of spirit which so eminently
distinguished her who is now a saint of the Most High!
"One of our chapels, which I think I told you was sold, will be out of
our hands by the end of next month. 'Tis a providential thing that we
have got rid of so huge a burden on the weak society here in a manner
so little degrading. Methodism in this city must become more solid than
it has been and be more ambitious to excel in the beauties of holiness
than in the beauties of great and expensive chapels.
"I have last week been very bold! I bought the Encyclopædia
Britannica' (fourth edition), quite as good as new, beautifully and firmly
bound, twenty volumes quarto, for the sum of £22. A most wonderful bar-
gain!
gave £27 for his in boards, which was several pounds under
the selling price. John talks in his letter of my meeting him at Guïsely
but the thing is quite impracticable. The expense of the journey is of
itself an insuperable obstacle. I am happy to say that Mr. Burdsall is
much better. I learned from the newspapers the issue of the trial at
Bingley, and thought of writing a letter of condolence to Mr. W————, but
not having heard from him on the subject my mind would not let me.
Write soon.
"Your ever affectionate brother,
"JOSEPH."
From Glasgow he removed, as he anticipated, after one
year, and he thence proceeded to the Dunbar circuit, in which
his place of residence was the town of Haddington. In the
course of his term at that place, and in the spring of 1821,
his marriage with Miss Morton took place. This important
step of course involved his life in serious cares and in many
anxieties. Adding nothing to nothing in arithmetic is a
simple sum, though the results arithmetical are small, and
his wife's fortune as well as his own was of the smallest, and
his professional income afforded only a very slender addition
to his very slight store. The cares consequential upon matri-
mony were immediately upon him and of course increased
year by year with the increase and growth of his family; but
he possessed a cheerful courage, in his home he was ever
f
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
51
•
happy, he had the faculty of not "worrying" himself and
did not fear the winter coming. His domestic affections were
perhaps of all the parts of his many-sided character the
brightest and most perfect, and this step was to himself the
happiest as well as the most important of his life. However,
he might covet beneficence he coveted not wealth, and in a
letter which he wrote at this time remonstrating on some
financial mismanagement of Haddington concerns by which
he was prejudiced he says, "I merely wish to live and keep
out of gaol." With such possessions and desires as these he
felt himself to be blessed above his fellows, and cheerfully
faced the cares and anxieties of his lot. With the increase
of his domestic good fortune he was increasing also his
public reputation and influence. This had in every place of
his residence been considerable and permanent, but he now
began to impress a more extensive world with his peculiar
powers. In his pulpit labours he was advancing from the
elaborate carefulness of his early efforts to the more char-
acteristic power and freedom which distinguished him and
which he now had acquired self-confidence and maturity
to achieve. In writing of a meeting which he had occa-
sion to address shortly after arriving at Haddington in
1820, he says, "On the 18th I attended a meeting in Mr.
Black's chapel for the Religious Tract Society, and spoke-
the people wondered." Haddington was however a field too
limited for the proper exercise of his great abilities: his stay
there was only for a single year, and at the end of that time
in the autumn of 1821, he removed to Edinburgh for the first
period of his residence in that city.
52
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
CHAPTER IV.
1821-1824.
In a letter already quoted, Dr. Beaumont has described the
impression made by "Auld Reekie" on his own mind in
meagre terms, or at least in terms which are a meagre de-
scription either of what its imposing character is calculated
to produce or of his subsequent admiration for that city.
Certainly in after life he had a very marked attachment to
this ancient capital. Its attractions to the eye-its beautiful
site, and the coup d'œil crowned by its grand old castle, sur-
passing even that idealised Heidelberg of Turner with which
the engraver has familiarised all England; the quaint old
wynds and rows, as rich in character and architectural inter-
est and "weather tracéd story" as the streets and places of
that other ancient capital, Rouen; the famous and classic
New Town which at least rivals the mathematical glories of
Munich; and its attractions to the mind-the intellectual
activity and centralization, the religious earnestness, the social
character of the place, stern yet warm and active—these all
united to rivet his affection to Edinburgh. In his later years
the only regular holiday which he allowed himself was on the
periodical occasions of his preaching the anniversary sermons
for the principal Edinburgh chapel, which generally took place
about the time of the sittings of the General Assembly.
then always managed to secure two or three days in which he
might wander about the surrounding beauties, sit awhile in
the Assembly, listen to some of the splendid utterances of
Christopher North, reinhabit the ancient scenes of his labours
and studies and do his best to refresh his memory and enjoy-
ment of life and to keep up old friendships and associations
which he cherished.
He
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
53
"
In truth it is a noble casket-this Edinburgh-in which to
shrine those thoughts and memories which sweeten and
brighten life and which yet must needs have, as must all our
thoughts which arise from or depend on the external world, a
local habitation. To centralise such feelings to some extent
on a particular spot seems to be to erect a sort of store from
which the weary man may draw or where he may, miser-like,
enjoy the contemplation of his wealth by merely revisiting the
scene itself. The writer never had the good fortune to be his
father's companion on one of these visits, but he can well
picture to himself from never to be forgotten companionship
on other occasions how, during these periods, he would in the
intervals of the occupations public and private which would
demand his attention bask, if that may be said, in the midst of
the beauties clustered about Edinburgh, how he would saunter
meditating over the Calton Hill, or clamber with footsteps
less buoyant at each recurrent visit the steep of Arthur's
Seat, and watch, with the delighted pensiveness which such a
prospect begets, the expansive picturesqueness of the scene, or
explore the solemn precincts of the familiar castle, or muse
about some other attraction of nature or of art, and then
would return to his valued circle of friends or to his ever wel-
come duties, or to retrace his steps across the Border towards
his home, and would have his heart more than ever full and
grateful for the goodness and mercy of God, which he ever
devoutly felt had followed him all the days of his life.
At this period he was junior preacher and his residence
was at Leith, where he received a precious gift in his first-born
daughter, whom afterwards in her early womanhood he had
the grief to follow to a premature grave. To the arduous life
of ministerial duty and of study which he had before pursued
he still devoted all his hours. He enrolled himself as an
alumnus of the university, as he had done at Glasgow; but
though he attended the lectures of Dr. Chalmers and occa-
sionally others in those departments, his studies were not
now, as formerly, directed to the belles lettres or moral
science but to the acquisition of the physical sciences. It was
a favourite maxim with Dr. Beaumont that all knowledge is
worth acquiring, and he perhaps placed too high a value on
public lectures and classes as a means of attaining it. He
I
54
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
always inculcated on those over whom he had influence to
acquire everything in the shape of knowledge which they could
possess themselves of, to acquire it carefully and thoroughly,
but to do so whenever it came in their way, and how little
soever it might appear likely that it should ever be utilised;
"for all," he said, "is valuable, if not for what it will produce,
for what it will bestow." No mind that was susceptible of
culture (and what mind is not?) should, he thought, be afraid
of undertaking too much in this way (so long as the pursuit
of knowledge did not interfere with other duties), or of being
unable to digest the intellectual aliments which it might pro-
cure. Even if the acquirements in question were merely of
the class of accomplishments, so to deck and "set” the mind
was at least, he held, a worthy object for the possessor of such
a jewel, and a worthy homage to the great Giver and Master
of all.
In the pursuit which he undertook of a knowledge of
medicine he was in the first instance actuated (though before
he took his degree, which was after many years, that object
had ceased to sway him) by anxiety about the still weakly
state of his health. Some latent mischief or weakness ap-
peared to be operating to cause those occasional alarms about
his condition which he for some years occasioned his friends.
Though he was a man of a powerful frame and his health was
ordinarily good, various unexpected attacks from which he
had suffered made him feel that it was sufficiently precarious
to render it desirable that he should secure to himself a re-
source in reserve by which he might pass worthily through
the world. Many of his friends recommended him to adopt
the medical profession, as it was thought to be one in which
he could command success and which might be followed with
safety though the more arduous and exciting life of a Me-
thodist preacher should have to be abandoned, and this view
was the more congenial to his own feelings inasmuch as that
profession affords perhaps more special opportunities of doing
good in various ways than any other except indeed that of
the clergy.
Dr. Beaumont had at this time to suffer bereavement in
the death of his father, whose sterling character he venerated,
for whom he entertained a warm filial affection, and between
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
55
whom and himself there was always complete confidence and
harmony of feeling. The following letter is to his wife,
written at the time when it was anticipated that his father's
death was at hand, though that catastrophe was in fact de-
ferred for some months :—
66
Driffield, 20th May, 1822.
"My dearest Susy,-I arrived here in safety and found my dear father
alive and indeed something better than the day I was written to. I
reached York at half-past eleven on Saturday night. An hour after I
took the Hull mail and reached Beverley about five on Sabbath morning
and found myself thirteen miles from Driffield—a cross country road and
no conveyance. There being no alternative, having washed and dressed,
and deposited my trunk at the coach-office to be forwarded to me by
Tuesday's coach, I set off and walked to my father's house.
"I left Beverley about seven o'clock and arrived before twelve, having
walked very slowly, as it was oppressively hot. I took the inside of the
mail from York to Beverley and dozed a little, with the exception of
which I had no sleep for two nights, and yet felt very well yesterday, so
that I was prevailed upon to preach at night; and this morning after
the refreshment of last night's sleep feel thank God quite well. The day
that John wrote father was, I learn, in such a state that had he remained
long unrelieved he must have died soon; he was however happily re-
lieved and is now a little better, and we have some hopes that he may
be restored-but God only knows what will be the result.
“Father cannot bear the thought of my leaving. I long to be with
you and my dear Rebecca. May God bless you during my absence and
may we meet to rejoice in the goodness that God has shown us. If I
cannot reach you this week, as far as I can now see I must wait the next
week's steam-packet, as it is so much cheaper than coach and involves
much less fatigue. Take care of yourself. I expect a letter from you
before this reaches you-if you have not written, write by return. God
bless you and my precious little girl.
"Yours most affectionately,
"J. BEAUMONT."
>
TO THE SAME.
Driffield, May 26th, 1822.
My dearest Susy,-I received your welcome letter-and I was de-
lighted to hear so good an account of you and our precious Beck—may
the good Lord continue his gracious goodness to you both and may we
soon meet to praise the name of our common Father above.
"I fear that here all is over. I rejoice however that my father feels
that he rests on the rock that cannot move. Oh, may we all be found
there in the trying hour! He says he has not an excess of joy, but that
he has no distress-he feels peace; Christ is his Saviour, God his portion
and heaven his final home. On Thursday night we believed him to be
56
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
•
dying, but he happily revived and has been since then more free from
pain, less restless, and has had more sleep but is equally if not increas-
ingly weak. The weary wheels of life are ready to stand still. He said
the other night, 'I shall grow weaker and weaker until I go.' So it is
likely to be and our duty is faith and resignation-may we not be want
ing in their exercise! Oh, what is life and what is death and what the
life to come-a
a life that is never lived out! May my dear Susy and her
poor unworthy husband be in a course of more active, vigilant prepara-
tion for that glorious, deathless life! Oh, that we could but see and feel
and remember that nothing-nothing is worth a thought beside. Mother,
thank God, is graciously supported. She possesses a humble, con-
tented, thankful mind, but has every prospect of being soon made a
mourning, weeping, aged widow-but God, her Maker, will be her
husband.
"My leaving last week I found to be quite impracticable; it would
have been quite improper-as you said, cruel even. My present purpose
is to leave here on Thursday morning next by coach to Scarborough,
where I shall arrive in time for the steam packet to my own dear and oft-
thought-of home, and may the same wakeful and benignant Providence
befriend my return to my dearest Susy and sweet Rebecca that brought
me here in safety. This is the Sabbath-I pray that you are in the
Lord's spirit on his day. I have refused engaging to preach to-day, as
I do not think it right to leave my father; but if he is better by evening,
I may perhaps preach then."
After his wife had been absent for some time visiting her
father, at a house which he then had in Liverpool, Dr. Beau-
mont writes :-
"
Leith, 23rd July, 1822.
'My dearest Susan,-The bearer, Mr. Moore, called on me again last
Thursday or Friday, and has just presented himself with his friend this
morning, and informs me that they are setting off this afternoon to
Liverpool, so I gladly avail myself of the opportunity of talking a little
to my beloved wife. Since my last I have continued well, thank God. I
have received a letter from my father, who is something better than when
he wrote last. He went to Bridlington and remained a fortnight, but
did not think that he derived much benefit from the visit. Upon the
whole he does not wish me to remove on his account, if I am comfortable
and satisfied in my present situation, as he has not yet fixed upon the
place of his residence should his life be continued. I have therefore not
requested the Conference to remove me, and by the end of this week you
will in all probability hear whether I stand first or second on the Edin-
burgh station.
“I feel very anxious to hear from you, and much more to see you.
Pray when am I to look for you? Remember that before you receive
this you will have been away from me a fortnight-a long absence. I
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
57
hope that you are improving in strength, and my first-born will not be
the worse of her visit to her very kind friends in Liverpool. I cannot
yet say that I shall be able to reach Liverpool. I must be frank and tell
you that I do not think that it is very likely, but at any rate, if all be
well, I will meet you at Greenock.
I feel in your absence that my dwelling seems strangely wanting and
vacant. Yesterday I dined at Mr. Gardiner's; to-day I dine at Mr. Chap-
man's. You know that the King is to be here next month. Do come as
soon as your friends can make up their minds to part with you. God
bless you.
"Your most affectionate
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
("
Leith, 5th August, 1822.
"Your letter, my dearest Susan, gave me much relief from anxiety,
and I feel grateful to God that you had such information respecting your-
self to communicate. My dear little Rebecca is, I trust, by this time in
a good measure recovered from indisposition and re-established in her
former good health. Here we are going on as well as we can in your
absence. Your return home (however impatient I may be for it) must
I suppose be in a great measure determined by your own feelings; but
certainly the sooner the better for me. I really don't know what to say
about visiting Liverpool that will meet your wishes. Desirable I see it
to be, but I rather think that it is not practicable as far as I can see at
present. I could not leave the circuit until the new preachers arrive. If
I come at all it must be next week, and in that case I should be obliged
to return the week after. Besides, if your sister accompanies you, my
presence on the way will not be so necessary, and I do not think that it
would be right to spend five pounds for a gratification which must be
only for a few days. The pleasure therefore of seeing you all I must
forego. It is painful to me to appear thus obstinate, but you know our
situation, and your dear mother must suffer you to come back to me
without the fulfilment of the condition that she so kindly imposed.
I am glad to find that Dr. Clarke is president and that Dr. Newton is
secretary of the Conference. Write to me soon. Do not make yourself
uneasy because I cannot see how much you are beloved and cared for by
your friends. My love to all, and I remain your most affectionate
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The following letter illustrates the interest which he always
took in public demonstrations. He was not indifferent even
to the pageantry of state, but demonstrations of common
feeling to the magnetism of which he was peculiarly sensitive
afforded him a keen and buoyant and boyish pleasure. Cer-
tainly in these days of universal travel, and when every one
is blasé before he is bearded and almost before he is breeched,
58
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
it is strange to find a man, save indeed amongst the vivacious
Gauls, so much alive to enjoyment of this nature, and to the
subjects of Queen Victoria there is something antique if not
marvellous in the excitement displayed by the lieges of King
George the Fourth under the gracious sunshine of that "first
gentleman of Europe":-
'Leith, 9th August, 1822.
"My dearest Susy,—
S
"The King is looked for on Monday next-he is to land at Leith har-
bour and move on to Holyrood House by Bernard Street, Constitution
Street, and up Leith Walk, so that he will have to pass by. our house so
close that we might almost shake hands with him out of our windows;
but I shall abstain from any further details relative to this animating
topic until later in the day when I shall have seen the newspapers and
shall be able to give you the most recent account of the projected arrange-
ments, only adding for the present that fourteen days has been men-
tioned in the papers as the probable term of his Majesty's stay in this his
northern capital. Surely it must be very desirable that you were here at
this time. The preparations making to accommodate spectators all the
way from the harbour to the palace are on the most extensive scale—
scaffoldings are being erected in every direction, every window will be
crowded and the whole way on both sides lined with people. I need not
say how great a happiness it would afford me were my wife present to
participate in the sight; nor can I but fear that so convenient a season
for such a purpose may never again occur, and should you tarry until
next month you will miss the King and all the consequences of kingly
presence; and my dear child will lose the ouly opportunity that she may
ever have of seeing our most gracious sovereign George the Fourth! But
as I suppose that he will return as he comes, you might still be here time
enough to witness the departure of royalty were you so disposed. Now
resolve at once, and make yourself happy. I wish you to be happy and
to make your mother and sisters hppy whilst you are in the midst of
them and not to mar the pleasure of your remaining stay through me.
I am well, thank God, and doing well. The bustle around me prevents
solitariness, and my friends strive to make up the loss of your society. I
have supped twice this week at Mr. Milner's and have engaged to spend
next Sunday evening there, as I shall be in Leith that day. It is our
sacrament the Sabbath following. To-day I am going to dine at Miss
Balfour's, who asks very kindly after you.
C
Dear Susan, as to your sisters coming with you, or coming next
summer rather than this, why nothing can be plainer than that unless
they come immediately they cannot come this summer. If you stay until
I have visited you all in September the best season will have utterly
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
59
passed away. The days will have become short, the weather perhaps
cold, and winter, dreary winter, must set in upon them in Caledonia. I
really wish to see them and have quite built upon one of them returning
with you, and therefore shall feel disappointed if it is not the case, and
yet I cannot but own that on their account it is most desirable they should
visit this region in summer. Consult their wishes and feelings and those
of your mother, and so decide. Take care of yourself, my dear love, and
avoid anxiety. Do not make yourself uneasy about anything.
"I have just seen to-day's paper which contains no information as to
the length of his Majesty's stay, but there is a long programme of the
procession. You may be in time for the 'great day' on which his Majesty
is to go from the Palace to the Castle and back in state. The streets will
be lined in order with the various classes and professions-ministers near
St. Giles' Church, magistrates at the Tron Church, the law and the faculty
at their several stations, and the beauty of Caledonia en masse will be
presented at the Exchange.
"I must not stop to say any more or shall be too late for dinner. Write
and let me know your determinations and arrangements that I may know
when to say that you are coming-when to expect my dear wife. As to
your coming home by coach surely that must not be thought of. The
packet is much the most convenient and pleasant for you, and I should
dread the thought of your coming by coach. The St. George I am told
is a splendid vessel-come by that. And now, my dear, may God bless
you and have you ever in his holy keeping-let us look to and live to him
continually. I trust we shall all soon meet to praise his name together.
I meant to have written to dear mother, but find that I have neither room
nor time. My love to her and all.
Your ever affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
His father over whom, early in the year, he had watched with
tenderness died in the autumn of 1822, and shortly afterwards
he writes thus to his brother Thomas who had just gone up
for his surgical examination :-
Leith, 30th Nov., 1822.
My dear Brother, I have waited with anxiety for another letter from
you informing me of the final result of the protracted examination to
which you have subjected yourself in London, and also that I might
know where to address you. A letter which I was happy to receive from
our mother this morning dated 28th inst., Bradford,' in some sort re-
lieves me, inasmuch as I learn from it that you have returned from
London and were when she wrote at Guisely. So far, so good.. But
mother's letter was, as usual, very short and communicated only the above
intelligence as to you. I feel assured that your journey was successful
T
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
60
and only long to be told so by yourself, and to know your final determi-
nation as to the future course to be pursued by you.
"I took out my matriculation ticket on Friday but have as yet pro-
ceeded no further-as the parting with £13 seems something, though
certainly I cannot but think that it would be well laid out. Suffice it to
say that it is my intention to take out tickets for Dr. Duncan junior and
Hope at any rate next week. What do you think of my attending Home
this winter also? It will be very inconvenient to me to attend Dr.
Monro the same winter as you mention, because it would either put me to
the fatigue and the consumption of time of two journeys to town and back
in a day or to the expense of hiring a room for a few hours a day in town.
But Barclay's hour would suit me exactly, and I should be occupied just
from eight to twelve. Please to communicate your views on all these
topics. As my motive is perfectly pure and cannot be displeasing to my
Heavenly Father nor dishonourable to my character I feel no hesitation
as to the propriety of my proposed conduct. As I find that you were at
Macclesfield on your way to Guisely, John perhaps told you what I said
respecting writing a memoir of dear father-a pretty long 'obituary' I
think might have been sufficient-but more of this at a future time. He
certainly made a most blessed end-the thought of it fills my heart with
gratitude and sad and holy pleasure day by day. May my last end be
like his-may yours, my dear brother, be like it. I am obliged to con-
clude as it is 'preparation day.' My duty is my delight, and I do not
go without assistance in it. May the morrow be indeed a day of rest to
us. All are quite well, thank God. My Susan's love.
"Your ever affectionate brother,
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
This brother was about this period entering upon the
struggle of active life, which even the most courageous
have found arduous and discouraging enough at first, but to
look back on which is one of the most pleasurable reflections
which those who have been victors in it can indulge. Some
of his communications were accordingly marked by a des-
ponding tone before his success was assured, and especially at
the time of the death of his father and in the presence of his
widowed mother and her daughter. In reply to a letter in
such a tone, seeking advice and sympathy, Dr. Beaumont
writes-
""
Leith, 6th Jan., 1823.
"My dear Thomas,-Be assured that I did not receive your penul-
timate letter without emotions of painful sympathy, and not one of the
fourteen days that have elapsed since has transpired without a purpose
•
LIFE OF DR, BEAUMONT.
61
on my part to write a letter of condolence and of encouragement, though
I each day have thought it better to let a reasonable interval pass ere I
should reply. An hour ago I was met on my return from the city by
your last communication, bearing date 31st Dec., and am happy to
receive in your present trouble the confidence which it expresses. I do
not know any occurrence that has taken place for years either within the
circle of my own affairs or that of my relatives and friends which has
operated so painfully, so really painfully on my mind as the contents of -
this communication. Indeed you and dear mother have my tenderest
and constantly felt sympathies in your existing circumstances, and I
pray Almighty God that you may both richly share in the sympathy of
that merciful and compassionate High Priest who is touched with the
feeling of all our infirmities, and who we are assured alike from the
gracious declarations of his immutable truth and the experiences of our
past lives will not suffer you to be tried otherwise than your fellow-
mortals or fellow-Christians nor above your strength.
"And now, my dear brother, as to yourself I must say a word. And
why art thou cast down and why art thou disquieted within thee? Hope
thou in God, for thou shalt yet praise him, who is the health of thy
countenance and thy God. You are too sanguine, and therefore liable
to severe depression where in reality there is little cause for any such
feeling. Remember that you are beginning at Bradford, that in Guisely
you were established, that God's blessing and time may do for you in
Bradford what they did in Guisely, that by consistency of conduct and
industry in your profession you must rise. So take courage, for I cannot
but think that all will be well. Give yourself a chance, so to speak, of
confounding all unfavourable predictions by remaining long enough to
know and be known. I believe that it is better to lie under some false
imputations without attempting to vindicate one's self, unless the glory
of God and the interests of his Church are implicated. Avoid by all
manner of means' saying anything to either friends or foes, either in
your present or late neighbourhood, of your doubts and fears. Put the
best face upon your speculations and prospects, consistent with sincerity
and truth. Maintain your own station-be the guardian of your own
character and reputation and wait upon the Lord, wait patiently for him.
Depend upon it it is good for us to bear the yoke in our youth. We need
worldly disappointments. They are the discipline of our mind and are
as necessary to it as food and sometimes physic to the body. God is an
all-sufficient portion, but sometimes he convinces us by painful experience
of the unsoundness of all created 'cisterns' that he may draw us to
himself, the fountain of living waters. Cease ye
from man whose breath
is in his nostrils, for wherein is he to be accounted of? Trust ye in the
Lord that made heaven and earth, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting
strength. Oh, my dear mother and brother, yes and sister too, cleave
to the Lord with full purpose of heart and you are safe: they that fear
the Lord shall not lack any manner of thing that is good. I wonder
1
7
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
62
what I have been doing for the last nine years! Half-dead both as a
Christian and as a minister! but blessed be God, he is reviving his work
in my soul; for some months past my mind has been growing more
spiritual, more sensible of the awful responsibility of my ministerial trust.
I do love my God and adore my Saviour more than I did, and want to
have my heart and my house a temple for the living holy God to dwell
in. I bless him that he is attending his word by me with power,
especially in Leith to the members of society. They are in a better state
than I ever knew them. In Edinburgh we are doing much as usual.
"Mrs. Ross is dead and buried; William Morton has obtained a
chaplain's appointment to Calcutta and sails next month. May God go
with him. My dear Susan and Rebecca, thank God, are well. Susan
unites in love to mother, to whom I send my best wishes and for whom
I offer my daily prayers. Write soon and let me rejoice with you when
you rejoice, for I weep when you weep. Your true friend and affectionate
brother,
'JOSEPH."
66
TO THE SAME.
"Leith, 12th February, 1823.
'My dear Brother, For once I am following the good example you
have set me in taking quantum suff* for the purpose. Your last letter
be assured was very agreeable, and I should have replied to it some days
ago had not the mails been stopped by the snow. Now, however, a thaw
has commenced its powerful operations, and in consequence an intima-
tion is placarded at the General Post Office that the mail will set out this
evening at the usual time; accordingly I immediately take up my pen
that you may have no lack of intelligence from the north.
“I trust, for our mother's sake principally and your own secondarily,
that intercourse will still subsist between yourself and the 'old ship.'
But permit me to caution you against either practising yourself or per-
mitting on the part of preachers or private members anything like
common familiarity; let advances be made rather on their side than on
yours. You are frank and open, and sometimes in danger of unbending
too much, not amongst your relatives, for this you cannot do, but in
society. The consequence of throwing off reserve fully is in general a
diminution of respect on one side or the other. Treat others with
respect, but treat yourself with respect also, and make others treat you
in like manner. Perhaps these cautionary hints are unnecessary, but
my desire that you should rise in every way has dictated them.
I am delighted to hear of the formation of a Literary and Philosophical
Society in your town-such an establishment must prove a great gratifi-
* This letter is written on a vast "single" sheet of paper, after a fashion
frequent in those times when postage was a most serious charge to a poor
and an important one even to a wealthy man.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
63
cation to you and an elegant relaxation from the mere fag, the physical
fag, of your professional duties, and to you it cannot fail to be advan-
tageous, not only because of what you will gain from it but because it
will furnish a field in which you may walk without trouble and where
you may be seen without difficulty. I did think, though I did not men-
tion it when I wrote last, that your best course would have been to have
come to Edinburgh and have wintered with us, in order to your pro-
gressive advancement and ultimate well-doing. However, 'All's well
that ends well,' and if Providence smiles upon and God blesses you in
your present undertaking, you need not regret that you are in Bradford
and not in Edinburgh. But it is a mercy that our own choice is some-
times overruled and our purposes broken off. The college will be ready
for you when you want it.
"I am diligently prosecuting my University studies as far as attend-
ance on lectures goes. Dr. D. jun. I am happy to say is well recovered:
inflammation of the lungs and subsequently inflammation of the ear
were his ailments. He is now fairly in 'Materia Medica,' having been
a long, long while on preliminary matters-all doubtless interesting in a
physiological point of view-with here and there a small sprinkling of
something practically useful. I have written a good deal of his disserta-
tions, but on turning to my Encyclopædia find that I might have saved
myself the trouble of writing much, as I have a good deal of it already
in print. I find that my familiarity with materia medica and their prac-
tical preparations is frequently much more intimate than that of the
Professor, as many of them have passed through my fingers some thou-
sands of times. In this respect also I have an advantage over at least, I
should think, three-fifths of his class who are thronging around his table
after lecture to get a sight of what the learned gentleman has been talking
about. I never hear him except on materia medica, as it is quite impos-
sible for me to attend the clinical lectures which are in the afternoon. I
have already filled one MS. volume with Home's lectures, as I write all
that he says. I go regularly with the crowd to Hope's and his class is
well worth attending to any one who can afford it.
"Your old friend Dr. Barclay has been of late frequently honoured by
my presence, whilst he has been dissecting the muscles of two subjects,
and now whilst cutting away amongst the abdominal viscera of a third.
He is a laborious anatomist indeed and I have got from his demonstra-
tions a good deal of knowledge concerning the human structure and its
various parts.
“I have not found time yet to read any medical books nor have I
bought any. I am more and more satisfied with the steps I have taken
in this matter, as it holds out the prospect not only of a respectable
livelihood but of practical usefulness should I ever be obliged to resign
my present more honourable, important and delightful calling, and sup-
posing I never have use for my M.D. the knowledge I am acquiring is
worth the price I give for it and I do feel grateful to God for my present
situation in which I enjoy opportunities of acquiring such knowledge.
64
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
How wonderful and how gracious the dealings of Heaven are towards us!
Three years ago I thought it a misfortune to be forced to Scotland, now
I am fully convinced, and that on many accounts, that it was amongst
the most advantageous events of my life! I think I can say with sin-
cerity that my heart of late weeks, of late months, has become more grate-
ful-sometimes I have deeply affecting views of the obligations which I
lie under to my Heavenly Father for the bounties of his providence and
the riches of his grace-the most noble and useful calling, an affectionate
wife and darling child, the comforts of life in sufficient abundance, kind
friends and my desires after holiness and usefulness, and consequently
my feeling of happiness increasing. My dear Rebecca is growing a fine
child and is beginning both to walk and to talk. We have been highly
favoured in her so far, as she has not yet seen a day's illness. William
Morton sets sail this month with all his family from Liverpool for Cal-
cutta, an appointment to a chaplaincy in which place he has been fortu-
nate enough to obtain. I forgot to inquire about whenever I have
been in town since your letter came, and all I have to say of that Jerry
Sneak is that I know nothing about him, and have not heard a whisper
of what you mention as the report in London. Indeed I have never
heard his name named by living creature since he took his flight. Your
Liverpool friend I see occasionally but he looks rakish, and his beard is
taken off much less frequently than gentlemanly habits require.
"Dr. Chalmers you have perhaps learned from the public prints is leaving
Glasgow and the pulpit for St. Andrew's and a professor's chair, which
occasions no little sensation among the plain-thinking and feeling part
of the community. But the eloquent and learned gentleman tells the
heads of St. John's (his church in Glasgow) that he is swayed by reasons
of necessity and conscience in having accepted a professor's chair—a
reason of necessity as he finds that intellectual pursuits and pastoral visits
are incompatible; a reason of conscience, for he is meddling and is de-
termined to meddle with the established order of things as to the poor-
rates and he cannot discharge the duties of a great philanthropist and
of a parish clergyman without incurring the charge of a pluralist!
"Believe me, your ever affectionate brother,
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
"Leith, 15th April, 1823.
'My dear Brother, I was happy to receive so pleasing an account of
your present circumstances and future prospects as your last letter pre-
sents. But you really should not have deferred writing so long; and to
be frank I do not look upon the apology of a press of business as suffi-
cient from you to whom letter-writing is no trouble and of whose time it
consumes so little. The suspense created by your former letter required
allaying, and a single page to say that you were prospering would have
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
65
had quite an anodyne effect. However I am thankful that the tidings
which have been so tardy of coming are found on arrival to be so good.
May your soul prosper and be in health as it is granted to you in and of
this world. How soon your wilderness has become a fruitful field and
your darkness light! 'Ye that fear the Lord trust in the Lord.' 'My
soul wait thou upon the Lord, he is thy help and thy shield.'
"This month's magazine has reached me to-day but it contains no obi-
tuary of our dear father. How is this? Pray do let me know in your
next whether or not you have done anything in the manner proposed to
and urged upon you some time ago. Do not forget this subject in your
next letter. I have accepted an affectionate and unanimous invitation
to continue another year in my present circuit, should it please God to
spare me.
The request was so earnest, so universal and so evidently
sincere, that had it coincided less with my inclinations and those of my
Susy I should not have said 'No' to it. To enable me to accommodate
my mother or other friends the quarter-day has pledged itself to fit up
another bedroom and furnish all necessary conveniences, which will be
contrived in our present house at my own preference rather than allow
the circuit to take another house for us which they offered to do if
necessary.
“We young men must take to the apostle's exhortation and be sober-
minded.' Let us watch and be sober and give ourselves to prayer. I do
believe my principal desire at present is to be holy, but I mourn over my
cold heart and languid efforts. I would press toward the mark of the
prize of our high calling and give all diligence, that after having preached
to others I may not be found a castaway! Awful thought! It some-
times thrills my mind and covers it with gloom. I was impressed the
other day with the consideration that, supposing my days' measure be
three score years (and what so uncertain !), I have already spent about
half of my life, and that it is now ten years since I ventured to cry in
the ears of my perishing fellow-creatures Behold, behold the Lamb!'
Well, I do not feel sorry that so much of life is gone, but I do feel sorry
that I have had so little sincerity, so little humility, so little love and so
little zeal. Dr. Morrison says in a letter with which he has honoured
me, 'I tremble and flee to mercy;' but how much more need have I to
adopt such language! And now a word as to the College-Home had
no lectures for about a fortnight at the beginning of March owing to in-
disposition, but he is now making up by lecturing an additional three-
quarters of an hour, i. e. from seven to a quarter to eight, A.M., whilst
Duncan begins at a quarter before eight to make up for his lost time, He
this day finished on the vegetable kingdom and entered, not upon the
animal kingdom as falling next in order, but upon the mineral. I ad-
mire his modesty and his entire removal from everything puppyish or
conceited. I really think him a most attractive man. Home commenced
last week with the diseases of the digestive organs-to which he did not
reach at all last session. I regret that I was prevented from attending
for a few days since he commenced this important class of diseases, but
F
•
AL
66
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
霏
​A
my dear wife's indisposition made it my duty to render sympathy and
attention at home.
"At present, thank God, my health is good, but yesterday and to-day I
feel the effects of my Sabbath night's service, which was a funeral sermon
for our oldest and most respectable leader in Edinburgh, who died in
peace after a sixty years' walk with God and a fifty years' faithful and
honourable service of the Methodist churches in the city. Every aisle of
the chapel was crowded above and below and many went away not being
able to get in, and the service lasted fully two hours and a half. I am
pressed to print the sermon, but I have so little confidence in my own
performance, so little time to give sufficient preparation for the press just
now and such an unwillingness to appear before the public that I intend
to resist all entreaty. Write as soon as possible that I may know all
things. Accept my dear Susan's love and believe me
"Your sincere friend and affectionate brother,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Writing as to his approaching removal from Edinburgh, he
says:-
"I have entered my last half-year on this circuit and am sometimes
led to ask what will then become of me? Many have asked me if no-
thing could be done to procure my appointment a fourth year on this
circuit, but such a proposal is so un-, nay, so anti-,constitutional that it
would be folly and temerity to make it. I shall certainly regret my de-
parture should I live to realise it. I am wished to go to Shields to suc-
ceed Dr. M'Allum* who wrote me to say that the good people there would
prefer me to any one else in his place, gave me an account of the situa-
tion and its labour, &c., and requested me to say whether I would not or
could not go to North Shields, as in case I did not negative the intention
I should be cordially proposed and officially invited next quarter-day. I
wrote to say that I was not engaged to any place but did not pledge my-
self to accept of an invitation to Shields, neither was I disposed to say
that I should decline it. Though for some reasons that circuit would ill
suit me, the work of the Lord is in a good and growing state there, and
on this account I feel rather inclined to go than not.”
So deep and warm was the regard of his Edinburgh friends
for him that they zealously urged upon the Conference his
reappointment to that circuit for a fourth year notwithstand-
ing the primary rule of the Wesleyan economy which makes-
* This able minister had been one of Dr. Beaumont's colleagues at
Edinburgh, where a mutual friendship was formed by them. The Rev.
Messrs. Manwaring, Valentine Ward and others were also associated
with Dr. Beaumont in this circuit.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
67
three years the maximum period of a preacher's sojourn in
one circuit. This application was not however successful and,
desirous to be near his mother who had located herself in
Buxton, he obtained his appointment to that circuit.
His period in Edinburgh was one of much usefulness and
active labour, and such was the appreciation of his zeal and
ability by his people there that from that day, young as he
was, he was accepted as the Methodist preacher, par excellence,
for that circuit and was regularly invited thither for their
special services up to his decease, and was frequently urged,
both before and after his second period of residence there
(from 1833 to 1836), to return thither as the stated minister
of that people. Before passing from this "station” mention
must be made of one who here entered his household in
which she filled an important place for many years, one
Christian McLean, a faithful and devoted domestic whose
services were of inestimable value in his small establishment
and who by her many sterling qualities won the regard and
friendship of those who came in contact with her. Clever,
managing, high-principled and affectionate, she fulfilled her
lot in life, humble though it was, so as to deserve to be re-
membered. After having nursed all Dr. Beaumont's children
in their infancy and lived to see many of them grown to
manhood and womanhood, she died but a few years before
her old master in the service of one of his daughters whom
she had followed to the far shores of China.
It is a common remark, after a French humourist, that
the world's verdict of man is little worth, while that of his
servants is infallible. On this basis alone Dr. Beaumont's
name would stand high indeed. He was certainly the pat-
tern of courtesy and kindness to all, but he showed a parti-
cular consideration and kindness to those in a subordinate
position. He used to say (and with much truth) that the
bondage of servants to many masters, and still more to many
mistresses, was a bondage of slavery, and that people showed
more consideration not only for their dogs and their horses
but for far more ignoble pets, than for this class of dependants.
Such was certainly not his failing, and his servants showed
frequently how much they appreciated his kindness. His
comparison of the invidious attentions shown to dumb ani-
68
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
mals with the indifference displayed towards servants did not
arise however from any want of affection for the former,
towards which he was far from harsh or indifferent. He not
only interested himself in them and their habits as matter
of knowledge, but he was their friend and it was pleasing to
watch him as he often sported with those of various kinds,
or watched them in their own sports with quite a sympathis-
ing interest. He frequently interposed his protection against
the wanton and unmanly oppression with which they are often
treated. They, with their ever-displayed instinct, were wont
to recognise him as a friend, and many a creature which would
not in ordinary approach a stranger would seek his hand with
a dumb solicitude. A great, mysterious cat-in appearance a
sort of feline representative of Lord Thurlow, in respect at
least of the aspect of that distinguished chancellor which
Sheridan has immortalised by his saying that "Thurlow
looked twice as wise as anybody could by possibility be,"
but certainly in its meek and gentle disposition very unlike
that surly lord-was for many years a pet in his household and,
being a most intrusive devotee of its master, of a very prepos-
terous size and having a most stolid indifference to the comfort
of others than itself, must often have been a burdensome pet,
accustomed as it was, especially on Sunday evenings as he re-
clined in his chair amongst his family, to lie upon his chest
with its fore legs extended round his neck and its head resting
on his cheek.
ན
Speaking of these exhibitions of character it would be a
great omission not to advert to his fondness for children, a
fondness which they always returned. He would often pat a
little one on the head in the street or road and prattle to it
so gently and happily and humorously that the urchin would
run off eager to tell its parents or play-fellows what a kind
gentleman had been detaining it. Scarcely a house where he
used to visit but in the nursery Dr. Beaumont's name was
one often invoked-the little ones would talk of him and ask
when they should see him again, and the elders would make
use of his name as a charm and his opinion as a test to which
to bring the youngster's heterodox notions or practices, for
the anticipation of his praise or displeasure had an important
influence over the minds of his little friends.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
69
!
CHAPTER V.
1824-1827.
FROM Edinburgh Dr. Beaumont removed in 1824 to Bux-
ton where he had very laborious circuit duties to encounter.
Some of his letters of this time give an amusing account of
the household difficulties which a poor Methodist preacher,
accustomed and desirous to provide for himself and his family
such accommodation as the habits of a gentleman require,
must often have suffered in some of the country circuits
where the notions of the good people would be of the most
primitive and unsophisticated, and when his own purse would
not afford him the ready means of removing all his difficulties.
Those who are not learned in Methodist matters may wonder
how it can be that the preachers manage to provide them-
selves in their frequent migrations with habitations. Each
circuit however provides for each of its own preachers, as
part of their allowances, a furnished house, a phrase which
means more or less of a house, more or less furnished.
Of course in this way the preachers are very much in the
hands of the managing people in each circuit so far as relates
to their comfort, and the managing people in many places
have a peremptory limit put to their management by the
limitation of the circuit finances-as, with the best of hearts
and most generous of dispositions, the bound of the offerings
of a society of this nature is soon reached where its members
are of the humble grade of those who in many parts of the
country form the supporters-and the efficient, zealous, devoted
supporters too-of Wesleyan Methodism.
The following letter to his wife was written from his new
circuit:
Buxton, 10 p.m., Sept. 16, 1824.
'My dearest Susy,-I embrace an opportunity of writing to you by
1
70
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
!
Miss Kane who leaves for Liverpool to-morrow morning. I received
your note yesterday morning by way of Macclesfield and have this
morning opened the box in which your album was packed, and accord-
ing to your wish I send it by Miss Kane, and hope you will receive it
by Saturday at the latest. The season at Buxton is so very fine and
inviting that dear little Beck I think would be much the better of this
situation at present. There are so many delightful walks and Constable's
(you see I am loth to call it Beaumont's) house is so near them, and the
air is so delightfully mild that unless Rebecca is taken out more than
she was when I was with you I really wish her to come as soon as
possible, provided you are willing. If you do not think of coming so
soon as next week and the above proposal meets your views, perhaps
Christie and Beck could be sent along with some person who may be
coming this way and who would be kind enough to protect them. After
all, should you think of coming soon (and the sooner the better for and
the more agreeable to me), it is not worth while to separate you.
"The weather here is delightful and the place full of company. Buxton
is only a village having a few hundreds of resident population. The country
round, except in one or two directions, is cold, hilly and poor. Our coming
here is really mysterious, I hope providential; I believe we must settle
down to the house such as it is. The people here can do nothing to make
it enterable. Leith house was a palace to it; of all even the most neces-
sary furniture there is the most scanty supply; where to stow our little
property in it I really cannot tell. My library, small as it is, cannot be
accommodated in it. I believe we must pack up most of my books and
what clothes we shall not want for the ten following months and deposit
them in the supernumerary rooms of Mr. Sleigh's house. I have no
hope that the circuit, which seems poverty itself, can or will do anything
to make the house comfortable, and the best thing that in all the circum-
stances of the case I think can be done is, as no other house can be
got now in Buxton let me give what rent I pleased, to buy such
furniture as is necessary for our use this year. Next Thursday I go to
Macclesfield to attend the financial district meeting and shall see what
can be done in that way. By the bye should Christie come on Thurs-
day next I can meet her at Macclesfield and bring home my dear Beck
under my own charge. I expect a letter from you this week.
I am really daily concerned that I have not a more suitable and respect-
able place to bring you to, but submission seems our present duty and
indeed privilege. My mind is kept unsettled by the existing state of
things but I am looking for tranquillity and praying for the Spirit to
descend upon me to qualify me for usefulness in the Church, though I am
sorry to say that the prospects of usefulness here are very limited. There
seems in fact no Methodism in Buxton, no leaders' meetings, no stewards.
It is good to bear the yoke in our youth, and I pray that this dispensation
though not agreeable may prove profitable. On Monday last I walked
* Mr. Sleigh was the Doctor's colleague and superintendent.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
71
four miles and preached, felt fatigued and languid and stopped all night.
Walked to Buxton this morning, and this afternoon have to walk four
miles again to preach and back again. The circuit is laborious-may my
strength be proportioned to my day! On Saturday week I have to walk
nine miles to Chinley, where I sleep, then one mile on Sunday morning
to preach at nine o'clock, then two miles to Chapel-le-frith to preach at
one, and then six miles to Buxton to preach at night! How different to
former times!
"Ever yours affectionately,
TO THE SAME.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Buxton, 20th Sept., 1824.
'My dearest Susy,—I arrived here in safety on Friday about four
o'clock after a very pleasant journey at least as far as Macclesfield-from
Macclesfield to Buxton is a dreary stage. Mr. Philip I found a commun-
icative, intelligent and affectionate man. Dr. Morrison offended him
egregiously when he waited upon him at but it is in your power by
waiting upon Mrs. P. and conversing with Mr. P. to act as a connecting
link between the latter and your family. Buxton I should think (though
my judgment may be premature) is one of the poorest circuits in the con-
nexion. The house is indeed a miserable place. I have this day been
trying to procure another house, but in vain. Nor can I at present say
whether, after all my inquiries, we must not put up with the house such
as it is. In short I feel very much on your account, as it is every way
unworthy of you and most unsuitable and inconvenient. The congrega-
tions on Sabbath were good, but consisted in a great measure of visitors.
We had about seventy persons present at a love feast on Sunday after-
noon, and out of the speakers there were but two or three Buxton
members!* I have found several friends here-Mr. Sutcliffe and Mrs.
S. and daughter of Willowhall, and Miss Agar from Sheffield, and several
others I have seen. Indeed if you wish to enjoy the advantage of the
situation you should come soon, as after this month the place begins to
be deserted. When inquiring this morning at what time the post left
Buxton I was told one o'clock; but when just going to write to you to
be ready by that hour I found that the Sheffield post leaves at one but
the Liverpool at nine A.M., so that I was disappointed in my intention of
furnishing you with a letter for to-morrow morning's breakfast, but that
you may have it by to-morrow evening I have taken up my pen after a
return from Dovehales, a place four miles from Buxton where I walked to
* The Wesleyans adopt periodical meetings of the various classes form-
ing a congregation, a sort of larger class meeting, under the name of
those assemblies which the ancient church instituted and which were,
especially in the African church, the subject of infinite scandal. The Wes-
leyan love feasts are however (as indeed were those of old) merely meet-
ings where the devout speak of religion and God's dealings with them,
distinguished by the formality of distributing a little bread and water.
•
72
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
J
I
preach this evening at seven. I expect to write you on Friday by Miss
Kane, by which day I hope to be able to give you some more pleasing
prospects as to your future dwelling. In the house which at present
offers itself we may exist, but to be comfortable is impossible, and yet,
such as it is, if there is no alternative, we must put up with it for one.
My mother is better in health than she was and she and Mary send their
love to Sarah and will be most happy to see her on a visit at their house;
and as there is a possibility of Sarah's turning her back upon old England,
and Buxton should be seen now if seen at all, they beg that she may
come with you, that the only opportunity she may have of seeing this gay
place and most romantic neighbourhood may not be lost.
My blessing to my dear Rebecca and Frances. Remember me to
Christie, Prepare to come to me soon.
"Your affectionate
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
""
Buxton, Sept. 24, 1824.
"My dearest Susy,-Your letter which I had looked anxiously for some
days before its arrival was welcome and pleasing, especially in the infor-
mation which it conveyed concerning Rebecca. I wish that all needful
attention may be paid to her that she may meet with a full measure of
bodily and mental excitement and a good deal of amusement. On Tues-
day I went to Macclesfield to attend our financial district meeting and
preached in the new chapel there on Wednesday evening to a consider-
able congregation from Gal. vi. 14. Mr. Naylor took tea at my brother's
on the same day, and we all supped together at another friend's house.
Mrs. Naylor inquired after you very particularly and expects to see you
when you come this way. My brother lent me his mare, on which I
rode from Macclesfield Forest halfway to Buxton, and from thence I
rode to my mother's this morning-and, thank God, after a week of
fatigue and exertion feel well-as well as I could expect to be. The
picture which I drew of my situation at Buxton was certainly gloomy;
happy shall I be if in your intercourse with the reality you find that I
have presented you with an exaggerated detail.
"There is a yard a few feet square in which the coals and a tub of
rain water are kept! Beyond this demesne is a garden into which there
is a door from the yard but which does not belong to the house. Mr.
Constable took it for the use of his children and paid for it out of his
own pocket. As there is no other outlet for my children, if I occupy the
house I must take it either in whole or in part for their health's sake.
My mother's house is very roomy and she has offered us
to live with her in it if you think proper, but a place to ourselves, how-
ever small and inconvenient, would be preferable. And all circum-
stances considered I have judged it best that I should enter my prede-
cessor's home and remain there for winter quarters until March by which
țime another house must be got as I find the landlord of the present
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
73
•
4
house has given notice for it to be given up then, though the prospect of
another removal in half a year is to me very unpleasant. Packing is
tiring and troublesome but unpacking and subsequent adjusting and
fixing is far worse. I have been planning how we can manage to arrange
the house to the best advantage and you would be amused at my various
contrivances to make something out of nothing. In short, as the fellow
who contrived to make three rooms out of space for one was so inge-
nious, we who occupy them must be as ingenious in making them an-
swer our purpose and convenience. The kitchen is large enough and
has many accommodations. The people are willing and anxious that all
should be done to make us comfortable that is practicable. I should
like all these things to be accomplished before your arrival that you may
enter upon and not wait for comfort on your entrance into Buxton.
Certainly the contrast between my last and present situa-
tion is great and it is to my sensibilities, tastes, habits and feelings, a
disagreeable difference. You will have more retirement here, at least
during the winter, than at Leith and our dear little children may have
the advantage thereof and yourself be no loser. At any rate and above
all things I trust that in Buxton our souls may prosper and be in health,
that we may walk together in the fear of the Lord and the comforts of
the Holy Ghost and that our prayers may not be hindered.
Remember that three weeks have gone over my head while you have
been snug and comfortable in Liverpool. I am living with mother and
of course am very happy and comfortable but my mother and sister after
all are not my wife and children. It is true that when I think how un-
inviting this place is I wish you to remain as long as is prudent amidst
your present comforts and therefore am not so urgent for your separation
from Liverpool as in other circumstances I might be. Last night and
to-day we have been very busy in the house. John leaves for Maccles-
field to-morrow. I have had the use of his horse since this day week.
It is a fine creature and he has offered me the use of it through the
winter, but the expense of a stable, man and keep is a bar in the way of
my acceptance. Next Sabbath is my hardest day as I have to preach
three times and walk eleven miles. But I am determined to try to walk
the circuit and then if upon experiment I find myself unequal to it I will
take to riding.
Bless my bairns for me-all unite in love to you.
"Your ever affectionate friend,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
These privations he took, as has been already said, with a
cheerful spirit and his laborious life was yet delightful to him.
In a letter of this date he says:-
'My dearest Susy is even in this situation content and studies to
make me more than content, happy and thankful. But I believe
74.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
}
Th
neither of us wishes any arrest to be laid on the earth's motion round
the centre of the system. I find philosophy to be of some use and we
both I trust prove religion to be of inestimable value and can say we
believe all things and hope all things."
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
Buxton, 15th Dec. 1824.
My dear Brother,
so on!
"I am really overpowered with the walks to which I am constantly
called. For instance, last Saturday I walked nine miles without stopping
through miserable roads, and preached at night. Next morning walked
a mile to preach at nine o'clock; gave tickets to several classes :* then
walked between two and three miles to preach at one; then six miles to
preach at Buxton at night. Then on Monday ten miles and preach, and
To-day I have six miles to walk out; to-morrow four miles to
another place, and six miles home again. Next Saturday nine miles
out, and see not my own dear home again till the Thursday morning
following. Last Wednesday night in going to a place to preach I was
lost on the moor and wandered for hours among old lime-pits and over
a wild tract, and I believed that I must spend the night in that situation.
However, after a really perilous journey in which I fell many times into
deep holes formerly used as lime-pits, I came to a house where I hired a
horse to conduct me to another where I should have been, and there, ex-
hausted, spent the night. This dangerous journey I have kept a secret
from my Susy, as, were she to know of it, her mind would be in constant
agitation and distress when I am from home by night, and therefore I
beg that in your next you will not allude to it. In the midst of all, my
work is my delight, and I rejoice that yet
"""Tis all my business here below
To cry, behold the Lamb!'
"Mother's love to you, and Susy's love to you, and all our love to your
Mary. May you both see many, many happy returns of the season.
Wishing you most sincerely a happy Christmas and a happy New Year,
believe me yours very truly and affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
During his stay at Buxton his solicitude was excited for a
young brother, whose life was threatened by a pulmonary af-
fection. Nor was this all the ill which the bleak Buxton air
* This “ giving tickets" is the periodical visitation of the societies in
their classes by their ministers, who each quarter meet them and give
the members tickets of recognition as such.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
.75
་
wrought for him; but, combined with the excessive amount
of physical exertion which his ministerial labours in this cir-
cuit involved, it so seriously affected Dr. Beaumont's own
health that he came to the conclusion that he must leave that
station. He often remarked that a man cannot bring his mind
alongside of others and work and live with them and fail, if he
possess a heart, to be pained at separation; nor was any man
more sensitive than he to the regard and consideration displayed
towards him. His Buxton flock showed him every mark of re-
gard and entertained for him a warm admiration, and—poor,
hearty Methodists as they were-they offered, on learning that
the arduous out-of-door labours of the circuit were found too
much for him, to keep for his use a horse in order to secure
his continuance amongst them. But notwithstanding these
considerations he felt that Buxton was not the place where he
ought to remain, and at the Conference of 1825 he removed
his abode to Hull.
At this place Dr. Beaumont, in spite of alarming illness
and other causes which subjected him occasionally to the most
anxious and indeed desponding feelings, spent three very happy,
very useful and very laborious years. His influence was now
greatly extended. From his first entrance into public life he
had commanded the love and respect of those amongst whom
he laboured; but now, without in the least seeking glory of
men, to which he was as indifferent as a man may justly be,
and though he was of far too independent a character to value
the "sweet voices" of the multitude, he acquired a universal
reputation and influence amongst the Wesleyans. Nor was
that reputation now restricted within that great community,
as the years at Hull may perhaps be fixed upon as the opening
period of his general popularity throughout the country and
were those in which his position and powers were established
and matured.
The Wesleyan society at Hull was extensive, devoted,
active, and towards their ministers, and towards himself in
particular, kind and affectionate without bounds. But at the
same time this period was one in which he was exposed to
much and severe affliction. Notice has already been taken
of the hesitation in his speech which materially inter-
fered with his comfort and ease in speaking. In early life
3
76
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
it had embarrassed him much, but afterwards, though it
was of course a source of personal annoyance, a "thorn in
the flesh" to him, he succeeded in mastering it so far as
to prevent its ordinarily being a practical inconvenience
of any moment. It however occasionally caused him much
trouble, and at one time during his residence in Hull he felt
this defect to be so painful to himself and dreaded so much
to find it restrictive of his ministerial usefulness that he en-
tertained the idea of retiring from public life on its account.
Fortunately, however, by force of careful and unremitting at-
tention and self-command, he ultimately subdued this painful
predisposition so far as to make it almost imperceptible, and
though occasionally it might be discovered, it never afterwards
increased so as to be either inconvenient to himself or unplea-
sant to others. It was often a cause of amusement to Dr.
Beaumont and the source of merriment at his fireside that
throughout the country, and far beyond this country, a popular
error had obtained currency to the effect that this affection
arose from malformation and had been remedied by a scien-
tific appliance. This rumour was entirely the creature of
"the many-mouthed." Nothing of the kind was the case.
His hesitation was purely a nervous affection and was re-
moved, as has been said, merely by presence of mind, atten-
tion and self-control. He from time to time placed himself
under the training of the most eminent elocutionists, from
Thelwall downwards, with the view of getting rid of this pain-
ful weakness by their arts, and ultimately derived benefit in
perfecting his success from the assistance of the late Mr.
Broster, whose repute for his cures in this way was very
high.
The mode however in which his stammering was finally
overcome was by merely pursuing with renewed care and de-
termination the plan which he had for years adopted. This is
so simple and as the writer believes (judging not only from
his father's case and from his own personal experience but
from that of others who have found it effective) so successful,
if not infallible, that it may be worth recording. Reverting
to the nature of nervous stammering, it clearly arises, second-
arily at least, from the excitement of the stammerer induc-
ing too great eagerness and, as a consequence, the attempt
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
77
to speak not only with the organs of speech improperly ad-
justed but with the chest uninflated or insufficiently inflated.
This may be observed easily and may be tested by the well-
known fact that the most incapable stammerer will sing with-
out any hesitation at all-singing being absolutely impossible
even in the attempt unless the lungs are kept steadily respir-
ing and care be taken not only, as of course, to frame the
organs of speech well for utterance but to commence each
passage or phrase with a full and expiring chest. This is the
whole secret. It may be said, and it is true, that this rule.
implies the power of compliance. It is true however that it
points out the particular cause of stammering and the exact
means of avoiding it, and so directs the stammerer's volition
aright. The practice of the means may and will in the time of
training be awkward and more or less difficult but with atten-
tion it will soon become a matter of course and perfectly easy.
During his residence at Hull Dr. Beaumont suffered much
from ill health. He was prostrated by a most alarming
illness, an affection of the heart, which was however at
this time merely functional and sympathetic in its nature.
There appears to have been certainly no organic disease
at the fountain of life at this time or for many years after-
wards, nor had he or any of his friends the most remote con-
ception even up to his last days that he suffered, as in fact
in his later years he did, from this fatal malady. It is some-
what curious as a coincidence that, though the two affections
were quite distinct in their nature, it was at Hull that he at
this time suffered from the disturbance of the heart's func-
tions and that many years afterwards Hull was the scene
where he suddenly fell before the disastrous ravages which
disease had then effected in that organ. It seems difficult to
suppose that he had any predisposition to this disease, for nothing
could be more wonderful than that in that case he should
for nearly thirty years after this period have been enabled to
sustain the almost superhuman exertions which, as the sequel
of these memoirs will show, he did up to the last moment of
his life-exertions as varied in kind and exhaustive in man-
ner as they were marvellous in extent. The laborious, ear-
nest, self-sacrificing life which he led must have been a cause
and, assuming the existence of a predisposition of the heart to
1
1
78
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
disease, must have been directly and constantly operating as
the cause of shortening its own term, but, in ignorance of any
such special results of his labours, he pursued them with un-
abated zeal till his work was actually done, till the silver cord
was actually loosed, the golden bowl broken, the pitcher
broken at the fountain and the wheel broken at the cistern,
till the very instant when his beautiful spirit returned to God
who gave it.
This malady which now affected him laid him com-
pletely aside, and it was for long thought that if his life
were spared he would be compelled to relinquish his much-
loved calling. How much this prospect afflicted him will be
seen from his letters, yet he sustained it with manly courage
and with that better support, Christian resignation. When it
appeared that he would linger on in his alarming condition
and he fancied or felt that he was or might be thought a
burden to those whose minister he would fain have been in
fact as in name, he came to the conclusion that he ought to
resign his position in favour of some more fortunate and
efficient man. His people however loved and valued him too
highly to allow this. They urged him to relinquish such a
project and secured an able substitute for their own pastor
during his protracted illness in the Rev. Dr. Etherege, who
was appointed to this duty as his first ministerial charge. In
other ways the people committed to his care showed an
amount of affection and sympathy which was most welcome
and grateful to him and which he never forgot. Indeed it
was his nature never to forget anything 'which he had ex-
perienced or observed that was noble or tender or Christian in
human nature, and their kindness bound him in feeling to the
society at Hull for ever. He was always anxious to do any-
thing in his power to serve them and regularly throughout
his life was found doing this in the way most within his power
by preaching many of their special sermons and otherwise
assisting in their religious and benevolent undertakings. He
was repeatedly invited to return to the circuit to reside, and
the memory of their sympathy and affection disposed him
always to accede to such requests, though circumstances pre-
vented his doing this until the last few months of his career
when he returned to die amongst these scenes of his early
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
79
labours and sufferings, and of his early joys also, and to re-
ceive once more at the hands of his old friends in Hull and
to leave his family to receive after him the consolation of their
continued affection and generous sympathy and assistance.
A gap occurs in his letters of this period which have been
preserved, even in those to his family. The following to
his brother Thomas is the first dated from Hull which has
come to the writer's hands :-
(
'Hull, 20th March, 1826.
'My dear Brother,-For your favour by Mrs. J. I am much obliged.
In regard to the mortgage security the deciding circumstance that leads
me to decline it is that I know not what may be the dispensation of Pro-
vidence concerning me at the conclusion of my ministerial connection
with Hull. There is to my mind weight in Naylor's remarks addressed
to me after last Conference, viz., that if in labouring in Hull (a field
spacious and favourable enough for experiment) I should not acquire the
mastery over my nervous infirmity, it would be for me to consider whe-
ther I had not better retire from itinerancy and preach only occasionally
as opportunity should serve than subject myself to annoyance and injury
from a continued struggle with it. He told me that Conference (I sup-
pose he means its leading members) wished me to try the skill of those
who are eminent in the management of such cases, as it was a pity that
I should remain subject to that the absence of which would, he said,
leave me amply qualified for any station in the body.' Now I am fully
confident that my hesitation is nervous, wholly and directly so, and as I
am equally confident that no elocutionist can remove it, or, if he should
remove it pro tempore, prevent the recurrence of a similar affection at any
future period, I am assured that any further interposition of this sort
would in my case, as indeed trial has proved, be inefficacious and super-
fluous. It is very true that I go through every part of my duty and that
I had rather be employed in my present vocation than in any other what-
soever. Yet it is not for me to be the arbiter of my own destiny, and
indeed it does not now give me the least uneasy concern how the matter
shall issue, as I cannot be safer or more happy than in bowing down be-
fore the indications of Providence, however such indications may be ex-
pressed to my consciousness and apprehension. The thought then that
possibly at the expiration of my service in the Hull circuit it might appear
to be my duty to locate myself somewhere in business, has determined
me for the present not to lock up my money so that I could not touch it
when I might most need it.
"We are obliged by your invitation to Susy but she cannot be spared
from home, though I doubt not but change of air and scene would exert
a favourable influence upon her state of health. I am sorry to say that
she has been very ill since I wrote to you last, though now, thank God,
she is better again. Her Guernsey friends beg that she will go and see
them there, but I am inexorable on her account as also on my own.
3
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
“I take very kindly the constant interest that you manifest in the
affairs of my professional life and character, and on the main agree with
you on the subject of occasional sermons extra my own circuit, and that
in my case there are special reasons against belonging to the flying artil-
lery. In this circuit, however, where on circuit duty I am always at
home and always preaching to the same people, I find it proper to com-
ply with the constant demand to some extent, and indeed it is almost
necessary for my health and on behalf of mental relaxation now and then
to digress and to diverge. In short what can I do?
“I sympathise with your town of Bradford in its calamities. Here
last week one of our most pious, valued and influential friends failed, and
the distress in the town is considerable, though nothing to that of Brad-
ford. My bishop is the author of the magazine sermon bearing his name.
Quarter-day is coming on, when the budget of a successor to Mr. Jackson
will be opened. Our people have been corresponding with Mr. Storer,
whose reply is that he shall probably tarry a third year at York. The
fever of anxiety about appointments is now fairly setting in, and is ascer-
tainable at most points of our Methodistical circulation.
'Farewell, in great haste, as the scription will abundantly testify.
May the good Lord direct and bless us all, and conduct us after all the
wanderings of life to the permanent rest and glories of Paradise.
"Yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH."
The calls upon Dr. Beaumont's services from various parts
for aid in the cause of religion and benevolence were now
becoming constant. In his own town the people flocked to
attend his sermons and the Methodist society (as in a greater
or less degree was usual in the circuits in which he travelled)
steadily and greatly increased in numbers. These ordinary
calls therefore had first to be met, and his brother had
pointed out to him how far it seemed to him that compliance
with the numerous applications for his aid would be found
incompatible with both the fulfilment of these calls and his
own health. Dr. Beaumont argued however that he must do
as he did he took care of his own circuit first, and having
made that flourish he further attempted to fertilise other
spots, and as to his health he was persuaded that his journeys
were of advantage to him. It may be probable that, as far as
the mere journeys went, when in ordinary health this was
so, but the labours for which those journeys were undertaken
were already undermining his system, and their cumulative
result, unindicated by their apparent effect, was doubtless to
量
​LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
81
cut short his life in the fulness of his powers, though not till
after he had lived the life of many men, measuring his career
by the amount and successful character of his exertions. The
following sentences are extracted from one of his letters of
the year 1827. They refer to a remarkable "revival" which
occurred amongst the Wesleyan societies of Hull during
that year.
"Since writing to you last I have been overwhelmed with labour and
for ten or twelve of the last days in the bygone year I was a prisoner in
my house. Through mercy I am again fulfilling the duties of my post,
and I have the great satisfaction of reporting the continued progress of the
blessed work the Lord is doing among us. As yet, and herein our un-
believing fears have been disappointed, there are few if any symptoms of
diminished interest. The arm of the Lord is still made bare in the sight
of the people and we rejoice together in beholding its achievements.
Signs and wonders, convictions, conversions, restorations and deepenings
of spiritual life are wrought daily in the name of the Lord Jesus to
whom alone be all the glory—yes, all—for the work that is done in this
way and of this order it is the Lord that doeth it. Last week was held
our June Missionary anniversary. My sermon was preached to a very
large or rather a crowded congregation. The public meeting was exces-
sively crowded, and many who came could not enter the place. The
night following young Bunting preached to a large congregation. I
have seen no young man in our connexion of whom I think so highly
as of this said William Bunting. He preached a delightful sermon-rich,
solemn, earnest and impressive. His piety seems sincere, modest and
pervading, and when I saw the grace of God in him I was glad."
Amongst the other results of his extended and increasing
reputation were numerous applications for his pastoral services.
Indeed he now commenced to be actually oppressed, as was
afterwards the case throughout his life, with invitations from
circuits desirous of securing him as their preacher; and these
were wont to appear year after year, whether his term at his
actual place of residence was beginning or ending, on the
chance of finding him inclined to change his position. In
the year 1827 he had to decline numerous invitations of this
nature from London and other places, but he could not be
induced to leave Hull where he was happy, influential and
useful. The following letter to his brother Thomas alluded
to the subject of his continuance in that circuit, and he had
occasion in the course of the ensuing year to be thankful
G
•
82
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
that he had determined to remain amongst his kind friends
there :-
"
'Hull, April 3rd, 1827.
My dear Brother,-A letter from Samuel last week apprised me of the
state of things with you at Bradford, and of the visitation of your society
in the distressingly sudden death of Mr. Hill in particular. In the state
of mind into which such tidings throw one, how really little and worth-
less do the things of the present life appear-how vast and important
those of the next! Oh, for the art and habit of improving such occur-
rences and the new and juster tides of thinking and feeling to which they
give rise! But instead of moralising to you, to whom I hope it is unne-
cessary, I should proceed to give you that sort of news of which by this
time you are aware I am in possession. Our quarter-day then was held
yesterday week, and a very satisfactory one I believe those composing it
found it. Our finances were found to have kept pace with the extension
of the work of God amongst us for some time past, and after all claims
were met, the stewards had the satisfaction of sweeping off the table a
very comfortable sum as a nest egg for the present quarter. It was
moved and seconded that your humble servant should continue a third
year, when Mr. Treffry took the sense of the meeting and told me that
every man's hand was held up for my continuance. I replied that, in as
far as the resolution involved in it the acceptance of my services, it could
not but be grateful to my feelings, and that as I had laboured amongst
them with comfort and perfect harmony and not without success, I should
regard it as a duty to meet this unanimous call with acquiescence. In
short that I did not bring myself to Hull neither would I take myself
away.
He
"From Samuel's letter I am sorry to hear that he is worse.
mentions change of air and that you have suggested Scarborough. If
you think him fit to journey and to leave his mother and that Hull
would not be unsuitable for him, Susy and I should be very glad for him
to come here and we will do our best for him, but anxious as we should
be to accommodate him and grateful for the opportunity of in any way
ministering to his comfort, I really from his own account of himself
doubt whether he can go anywhere with prudence. I have for some
weeks been engaged to re-open the Bingley Chapel on the 29th of May,
an engagement which I the more gladly made as it afforded me the pro-
spect of seeing you all at Bradford. It will however be immensely incon-
venient to me to accomplish, as our Missionary anniversary is fixed for
that and the following days and I have been proposed to preach one of
the sermons, though being fortunately present I told them that I could
not. If I come to Bradford I must be back by Monday night. If mother
and Samuel think well of it, they had better come here together, for I
really think that they ought not now to be separated.
“Susan unites in kindest love to mother and your Mary, and give my
love to my dear little niece. My Rebecca is sitting at my right hand and
*
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
83
is learning to write, and will soon be capable of troubling people with
letters. Best love to Samuel-tell him to look constantly and with faith
to the Lord Jesus Christ.
"Yours very affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
This object of his fraternal solicitude, whom he loved much,
was not long to resist the fatal influence of his malady, and
the following letter to his wife was written during an absence
in fulfilment of the last sad offices for his brother :—
66
((
Bradford, 7th May, 1827.
My dearest Susy,-I arrived safe in York at a quarter before ten and
left it for Snaith at half-past ten by the last mail that left York at that
time for the place whither I was going-the route and time of the mail
being altered yesterday so that subsequent to last Saturday I could
not have got to Snaith from Hull in the way that I was enabled to
accomplish it. I reached Snaith about a quarter before two on Sunday
morning, had some difficulty in getting a bed and yesterday preached
three times, beginning at nine o'clock. It was well that I came, and I am
glad that a sense of highest duty overcame all the feeling connected with
a melancholy and lower one. This morning I was to have left Snaith
before five o'clock in order to reach Selby by six to come hither by the
coach, but my gig was not ready for me until half-past five, so that I had
eight miles to come in half-an-hour alone in a strange road with a power-
ful horse, restive at starting, that had never been in a gig before. I drove
of course furiously, reached Selby a few minutes after six, too late for the
coach there, got an ostler out of an inn into my gig and away we went as
hard as the horse's legs could go after the coach, and overtook it about a
mile and a half out of Selby, where I mounted and sent back my gig and
horse by the ostler to Selby to wait at the inn there till called for. I
then pursued my way steadily by coach to Bradford which I reached at
a quarter past ten. My brother James arrived yesterday, and will of
course tarry over the funeral-the day of which is not yet finally 'fixed;
Friday is the first proposed day—the earliest at which it can take place——
but it may be Saturday as John, owing to there being no delivery of let-
ters in Edinburgh on Sabbath, could not receive the sorrowful tidings
until to-day, and I dare say cannot set off for this place until to-morrow
at soonest. Poor dear Samuel I find was very, very anxious about com-
ing to Hull to see us, and 1 shall, always grieve that I had not more com-
munications concerning his symptoms and wishes! He was most anxious
to have seen you again as well as myself. It seems that he had no anti-
cipation of the abrupt and decisive sequel, but was looking for recovery.
Dear fellow! he has recovered-his spirit already in heaven and his
flesh he will regain hereafter! He was very happy for some time previous
to his departure, and has left sweet assurance of his having entered the
unbroken and eternal rest of heaven! I mourn his early flight, though
with him all mourning is ended, and sorrow and sighing and sin are o'er,
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
but I wish to be resigned, to be humbled under this sad bereavement-
to be warned and profited by it. What is our life ?—it is—it is even as
a vapour—as a shadow-it fleeth and returneth not: oh for grace to im-
prove it!
"Love to the children from
• Yours most affectionately,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
This brother, Samuel, was a young man of a fine and en-
dearing character and Dr. Beaumont felt much his premature
death. Almost immediately after this event he was himself
prostrated by a severe illness. In the first instance he was
ignorant of the nature of his ailment and endeavoured to re-
instate his health by a short visit with some friends to Scar-
borough, where however he obtained but little benefit. Ar-
rived at Scarborough he wrote to his wife of his condition
thus
"My dearest Susy,-I arrived here safely about half-past two o'clock
yesterday afternoon, just in time for a very excellent dinner to which the
party of visitors were sitting down and for which a long pleasant ride had
well prepared me. My kind friends had nearly given up all expectation
of seeing me here, but were exuberant in their expressions of pleasure at
receiving me. We are at a boarding-house where the accommodation is
everything that can be desiderated even by one who besides being an in-
valid is a little fastidious in his tastes and habits. Breakfast half-past
eight; lunch, eleven; dinner, two; tea, six; supper, half-past nine!
Thus the day is carried through as far as its principal occupation is con-
cerned, for really in Scarborough and in such like places, eating and
drinking rise even to the dignity of an occupation and a principal one
too! My bedroom is spacious and airy. Besides Mrs. Whitley our party
of ladies consists of three single ones-in addition to Mr. Whitley we
have three gentlemen besides myself-all agreeable-and I only wish you
were added to the party which would then be complete enough. I think
myself upon the whole as well as when I left home, and that you know
was decidedly better than I had been for several days.
"This morning I have had a ride for about two hours with Mr. and Mrs.
Whitley and feel myself better for the exercise. We rode on the sands, which
here are fine, close to the sea. I am not advised any bathing but the shower-
bath-and I think of trying one of sea-water, and on my return home of re-
suming the use of my own! Scarborough has not at present very much
company in it--but those of us that are here are not wholly without respec-
tability, to say nothing of dignity, as besides your friend there are his Grace
the Archbishop of York and family, the Rev. Mr. Hamilton of Leeds, &c.
&c. I do really think that with God's blessing I shall be the better, I
hope considerably so, for my visit, and though I came with some reluc-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
85
tance I now feel that in coming I have done right. Mr. Whitley's gig
will be a great friend to me as walking in general fatigues, and climbing
hills of all things agitates and annoys me, and here we are surrounded
with them on every hand. All the symptoms with which I was menaced
and troubled last week have yielded saving and except the sensible beat
of the heart. With a greater subsidence of the heart's action, I should
really count myself as well as I have been for some months: for this I
must hope and wait. May the Lord fill my heart with gratitude and my
mouth with praise and my life with obedience for my many mercies and
friends. Write me on Monday, and if any letters require attention com-
press and report their contents. I hope with the Divine favour to preach
to my own people in my own places to-morrow week. I may be at home
on Thursday-more likely on Friday-by the latest on Saturday. Give
my love to the dear children and kind regards to Christie. Mr. and Mrs.
Whitley are quite a father and mother to me and send their kind love to
you. Give my love to my brethren Treffry and Isaac.
“Yours affectionately,
“JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
•
·
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
'Hull, July 21st, 1829.
My dear Brother, -Rumour is correct as to my being an invalid
Last Monday three weeks I felt very unwell, anxious depression and
undue action of the heart. Tuesday I was worse, and consulted Dr.
Alderson. Wednesday (as I could not get any one to go for me and
take my place) I went to Lincoln, preached there that night, and on
Thursday night got through wonderfully, but on Friday returned and felt
much worse, much heat and pain about the region of the heart with dis-
tressing throbs there. My indisposition has continued with some varia-
tions until now. I have been bled a second time with leeches within the
red line of the lip. At Scarborough I did not feel better, though subse-
quently I suppose I felt the advantage of having been there. Last
Thursday night I preached for the first time since I was at Lincoln. I
preached shortly and moderated my manner, but was rather the worse
for my effort, and yesterday I felt a slight teasing cough. This morning
I have seen Dr. Alderson again, who seems to think me better and the
pulsations of my heart less violent; he thinks that the heart has no dis-
ease, and seems to fancy that there is something of nervous interference.
“I have been put into better spirits this morning by the doctor's prog-
nosis and though all my friends are against my preaching to-morrow at all
-as my physician permits I mean, should I continue as I am now, to try
in the morning. I had previously to this indisposition intended to go to
Conference, but had partly laid aside my purpose until yesterday, and
this morning, as Dr. Alderson thinks that it might amuse my mind and
be rather advantageous than otherwise on condition that I attend merely
may be able when there, and take no active duty. It has fallen to
as
I
1
86
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
my lot to attend very few Conferences, and though should my ministry
continue until next Conference I should desire to attend it, yet as the
preachers at present appointed to Hull are my seniors, it does not seem
likely that I shall have the opportunity, so that I feel wishful on several
accounts to attend the present one. Should I continue convalescent on
Monday morning it is not unlikely that I shall start for Manchester, and
yet I assure you it will be a very great mortification to me not to be here
to receive your wife and yourself; however my dear Susy will I am as-
sured do all that is in her power to make your desired and long-looked-
for visit agreeable to you and yours. Do not on any account let the pos-
sibility or even probability of my being away divert you from Hull; your
wife I shall of course find here on my return-to find you here also how
delightful! It was our intention, had I not gone to Conference, for all
my family to have gone to Cleethorpes for a few weeks; perhaps your
wife would prefer Scarborough and would be better when at a watering-
place not to be linked in a fellowship that would subject her to the pre-
sence and therefore inevitably more or less the annoyance of three
children.
Should I go to Manchester, as I find that mother is at
Buxton, I should think it a duty to return hither by Buxton that I may
see her; my way home in that case would be by Sheffield. I am in the
midst of the kindest of friends here, who have at their leaders' meeting
voted me every sort of help and indulgence at home and abroad which
my fancy or medical men can desire. What to think of my case I can
scarcely tell. I confess that I am not altogether free from alarm on ac-
count of it. But the will of the Lord be done; I feel a measure of sub-
mission to whatever he appoints. God bless you, and fit us more and
more for all his righteous will.
"Yours very truly and affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
"
TO HIS WIFE.
"Oxford Road, Manchester, 25th July, 1827.
My dearest Susy,-My journey to Selby from Hull on Monday after-
noon by the packet I effected with pleasure, but from Selby to Leeds by
the coach was oppressively hot. Arrived at Leeds at half-past eleven
and got to Bradford at one. I breakfasted and dined the following day
at my mother's.
'If you prefer it, go to Cleethorpes without delay and stay as long
as you like, and if I come home while you are there, which is not un-
likely, I will join you. Enjoy yourself with the dear children as
much as you can and love and serve and trust in the living God. But
to return to my journey-I left mother on Tuesday morning, and had, the
shadow of a cloud being my defence, a pleasant journey to Manchester,
which I reached at eight o'clock. I immediately proceeded hither and
found myself an expected guest at this establishment which is in a very
charming situation. Mrs. and Miss Cooper are here from York and Mr.
Galland. This morning I went to Conference to be there by six o'clock
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
87
-the distance is considerable and I was caught in heavy rain, which oc-
casioned me some hurry and inconvenience and I am feeling the effects of
it through the day. I breakfasted near the chapel and attended Confer-
ence again between breakfast and dinner and drove up to dine in Mr.
C.'s phaeton.
My staying here longer or shorter depends on
the progress of my case. I wish for your sake that I could report better
of it. But I must submit to this chastisement of the Lord, and oh! may
I profit by it. And may you be blessed and comforted-you whom I
doubt not God will love and protect, with my precious children, whether
I live or die, whether I am sick or well! To him let us commit ourselves
as unto a faithful Creator! Write to me soon, by return if convenient,
and tell me where you are and all about your circumstances. Bless my
children for me, and my kind regards to Christie. My love to my es-
teemed and kind friends at Hull. To Hawtrey I have not yet spoken,
but for your sake will if I have opportunity.—Believe me ever
"Yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH Beaumont."
TO THE SAME.
"Manchester, Oldham Street Chapel,
"
July 28th, 1827.
My dearest Susy,—Yesterday I had some thought of returning home
and having the happiness of seeing you by this evening, and had actually
taken my leave of my friends at Mr. Cooper's with this view. I had had
some fever upon me and felt not well, but I called on a physician of emi-
nence here to take his advice on my case, who entered somewhat more
minutely into it than Dr. Alderson, but he advised my staying here longer
-thought I should be the better for it-said that he thought there was
nothing seriously the matter with my lungs, and that the irregularity of
the heart he hoped was symptomatic only and that with great care it
might be subdued. I had a long discourse with him on my diet and got
from him a prescription. In short the result of this interview was a great
improvement in my spirits, and an attention to some directions which
may be of importance to my future restoration should this be the will of
God concerning me. I attend Conference only in the forenoon and am
to-day much better than I have been for two or three days. I was the
other day at the Marsdens and met with Mrs. and Miss Reece, heard a
good deal about our London friends-Jane seems a great favourite with
the Reeces. I have given your love to your friends, who hailed it with
warmth and pleasure and return theirs, Mr. G. Marsden added with
earnestness affectionately.' With Hawtrey I have conferred; he is
delighted to hear of you and I have asked him to dine with me for your
sake.
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
"I thank God I think myself now a little better. May he prepare me
for all his will, guide and enrich and strengthen you with all grace and
comfort. Trust in him-the Lord bless you and my dear children! Re-
gards to Christie. I want to hear from you.
"Yours most affectionately,
“JOSEPH Beaumont."
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
"Hull, August 21, 1827.
""
My dear Brother,—On our return home at the end of last week from
Cleethorpes your letter by Mr. Holmes was handed to me, and to your
absence from Hull it seems we must submit. In my general health I
think I have whilst at Cleethorpes improved; I have now no fever, my
appetite is consequently better and the heart's action is now tolerably
composed. Yet the primary affection continues-constant conscious
undue labour of the heart. Alderson says 'the blood is thrown out of
the ventricle with vehemence.' He still thinks there is nothing organic
or it would by this time have become worse and more troublesome, and
imagines that it will ultimately subside. However, having continued
now eight weeks, my hopes are not very sanguine, though for this last
week they have risen higher than for many preceding ones. I have not
preached yet nor done anything since the first attack but attempt to
preach once on a week night before Conference, and within the last two
days have given tickets to two or three classes. Whilst at Cleethorpes
the leaders' meeting came to a unanimous vote by acclamation ex-
pressing their sympathy with me in my affliction, to request that I shall
do nothing until fully recovered and to call out a young man to supply
for me until I am recovered. One has accordingly been written to that
is in the neighbourhood but he cannot disengage himself to come, and
as I am something better, so far at least as to be able to assist in giving
tickets, and as the two Treffrys are here at present and other strangers
passing through, it is thought better to wait two or three weeks longer to
see the progress of the case before application is made for one to the
President. Were it the will of God I should wish that there might at
the expiration of the proposed period be found no necessity for calling in
an auxiliary; however to his will I trust to be able to submit not with-
out cheerfulness, though I find it anything but congenial with my
feelings and habits naturally to be content to be good for nothing.
"However I have much cause to be thankful that this visitation has
befallen me in Hull rather than in some other places. Give my love to
mother and say that it was a great disappointment to me that I was
prevented from stopping in Bradford to see her on my return from Man-
chester. I was anxious to be at Hull by the Saturday night and could
not get a place to Bradford on the day before as I wished, and thus I
was prevented from accomplishing my intention. She must not make
herself uneasy about me. Better let her see this letter, as it will be a
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
89
satisfaction to know particularly how. I am. I hastened to Hull from
Conference that I might communicate to the stewards my apprehensions
that my indisposition would not be speedily subdued, and that I felt the
greatest anxiety about the interests of this important circuit which I
feared would suffer through my long affliction. Knowing that a large
circuit like this must in the great work that is going on be a loser even.
though a young man should be called in to it from the list of reserve to
fill up for me, I proposed to them that as far as I was concerned they
were perfectly at liberty to write to the Conference for another married
preacher of character and talent to be appointed in my place and I would
be put down supernumerary for a year, for I had rather go to a work-
house than be the occasion of impeding the work of God in this momen-
tous station. But this they at once and positively refused to do. So
here I am receiving their kindness-bowing to the dispensations of Pro-
vidence and I hope labouring to gather profit from the way in which I
am walking. Oh, let us each be giving all diligence that we may be
found when the Master shall call without spot and blameless! Our love
to Mary. My family is well.
Yours affectionately,
TO THE SAME.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Hull, 18th Sept., 1827.
My dear Brother,-After writing to you at the beginning of last week
I became worse. This day week I complained of the return of pains in
the left arm-Tuesday morning worse-this morning still worse. I had
sent for Dr. Alderson, who talked very seriously about the case—saying
'if you can afford it you must lie by a year, though I think there is yet
no organic disease but what may be got over.' This morning I told him
I was worse that the action was extending visibly and sensibly towards
the sternum. I exposed myself to his examination, and he allowed my
deductions, though he hoped there was not much mischief in the body
of the heart yet.' Thus you see, my dear brother, my case advances in
seriousness and difficulty, and even Dr. Alderson speaks much less con-
fidently than when I wrote last. Well, the goodness of God has been and
still is my experience. Nothing that is unkind can come to me out of
those hands which were pierced for me upon the sacred cross. However
here I shall stop, leaving room to make any addition to-morrow that time
and circumstances may present-so good night-I am much annoyed
with dreams so that my nights can scarcely be called good-towards
morning especially my dreams are oppressively strange and disquieting-
nevertheless I sincerely wish you and all my numerous friends a very
good night."
*
'TO THE SAME.
Hull, 21st October, 1827.
My dear Brother,-On Thursday and Friday last I was worse, the
90
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
heart's labour increased in violence and extent; towards yesterday even-
ing the increase partly abated, and the pulse became more tranquil.
Dr. Alderson was with me last night, just after my receipt of your invi-
tation to Bradford, and he thinks the change you have projected and soli-
cited would be advantageous. So he thought of the journey to Manchester,
to Cleethorpes, Scarborough, and so no doubt he would think of a journey
to Botany Bay or even to the moon were they proposed to him. I can-
not say that I feel free to leave home now-though it would be a great
gratification to me to see John on his route to the Athens' and to parti-
cipate in your personal attentions, nor do I anticipate any decided im-
provement from any local change or circumstances. My case is not one
which is affected by the condition of the air in which I exist. But
mother, who is quite impatient at the delay of my recovery in Hull, and
Susy, who thinks everything and everybody and every place should be
tried rather than for me to abide in this sunken, unrecovered condition,
incline to your proposal, and as to myself-wishing, if it is put out of my
power to act in any higher capacity, at least to try to gratify my friends
whilst I may live-I am half inclined to attempt an accomplishment of
your desire. I know not what time the packet leaves to-morrow. I
should think it will be either late or early-so that, should I finally de-
termine to come, I do not see that I could be with you before Tuesday.
We have been expecting John here, but it should seem, from the tenor
of your note, that he moves direct from Bradford to Edinburgh.
"The great length of duration of my affliction now seems very serious, and
it becomes increasingly doubtful whether any recovery is practicable. I
feel it a sore trial of my faith and patience. And yet every means of
recovery should on some grounds be attempted, and then to God's most
holy will and most righteous dispensation I must fully and religiously
resign myself, as in some measure I trust I do already. I took hold of
this half-sheet, because it is the Sabbath, not thinking to write more on
this day than necessity demands. Wishing your friends a safe and suc-
cessful journey, and with love to them and John and Mary, I remain
"Yours very affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT.
“P.S.—I am spending another silent Sabbath-Lord, make it very
profitable to me!”
TO HIS WIFE
Gawthrop Hall, near Bingley, 2nd Nov., 1827.
“Dearest Susan,—I am not able to report anything new as to the cir-
cumstances and situation of my personal condition: of my heart I cannot
say that it is any less irregular or less violent than when I left home-the
plague of it continues unabated. I am still broken and faulty in my con-
stitution and fear I must long remain so. John arrived at Bradford on
Tuesday afternoon last. Yesterday he and I came to my friends at this
place, and here I am much wished to remain for some time; and Thomas
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
91
and John think that I had better tarry here for the sake of quiet and
other advantages. I cannot now say how this matter will be decided: I
feel unwilling to be the means of preventing John from giving mother and
yourself the pleasure of seeing him, by my staying here, and on the other
hand, having taken the expense and trouble of coming hither, I perhaps
should be acting as properly were I to remain a while longer. John
looks very well, is in very good spirits and seems likely to get on and I
hope will prosper in his new and exalted line of labour and engagement.
If John and I come, we intend starting for Leeds next Monday and pro-
ceed on Tuesday for Hull-and if we are not at Hull by Tuesday evening
you must conclude that I have decided on remaining at Gawthrop Hall
a week or two and that John is proceeding to Edinburgh omitting for the
present his intention of visiting Hull. Mrs. Whitley begs her love to
you and mother, and says that I must tell you that she wishes me to stop
here.
"Believe me ever your most affectionate husband,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In a letter to his mother at this time he wrote as follows:
'I shall be most happy to hear of your health and increasing comfort.
Take all possible care of your health, and especially and above all of your
soul. Do not, I beseech you, indulge the least uneasiness on my account;
all things are ordered by the Lord, and will, if we are faithful and prayer-
ful, be turned to our good and his glory. I cannot say that I am any
better than when I wrote last. I must suffer all the righteous blessed
will of God, and to the end endure. Susy is in high spirits with good
news from India. We have had a very delightful letter from Mrs.
Christian there, who is beyond everything charmed and gratified with
her new position. Happy, as she always was,' she says, at her father's
house, 'she is far more so at her husband's! Very well-this is as it
should be."-
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
"Hull, 30th May, 1828.
"My dear Brother,—To give a history of my present symptoms would
be but to tire you with a many times told tale. My case remains as it
has been now for several months, the heart never having yet returned to
the moderate healthy action which it maintained until just twelve months
ago—nor do I expect that it will. I go through my engagements minis-
terial much as I ever did, feeling no inconvenience in preaching, nor
unless I have foolishly and wickedly been prodigal in my exertion any
increased sensible action afterwards. In a measure I am becoming
whilst in active study or duty indifferent to its violence and regular irre-
gularity, though its injuriousness may be no less for that. I am now and
am likely to continue more or less an ailing man; certainly thankful that
I am what I am and as I am and where I am.
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Of my earthly future I have no clear view-nò strong presentiment.
Dr. Alderson is decided in judging that I ought to relinquish my profes-
sion; and my present intention is to go to London at the beginning of
July and take the first advice which the metropolitan faculty boasts, and
then, putting the opinions of my medical and clerical and personal friends
together, pray and look for superior direction to decide in this important
crisis (for myself and family) with wisdom, firmness and piety. Should
my decision ultimately be to abide in my present calling and risk all the
contingencies of labouring in our exciting ministry with a diseased
heart, I could form and then express an opinion as to the most suitable
circuit, and I dare say, were it in the power of Conference, it would
readily appoint me thereto. Some of my friends have recommended the
Margate circuit; but its superintendent is but in his first year, and Storry
who lives at Ramsgate is his second, and whether he leaves or not this
August I cannot tell. However I must leave these things for the present,
and can but hope and trust and pray that my steps will be ordered by the
Lord—that he will guide, direct and lead, and then I will follow.
"Should I take another circuit I think I shall not return home until
after Conference; but should my destiny be otherwise, I must return to
Hull to provide my family with some place into which they can put their
heads on the transition. I have been if anything for the last few weeks
rather better in my general health. Last Sabbath I preached twice, gave
tickets to two good-sized classes and met the Society. On Monday after-
noon presided at a love-feast, preached and led an immense prayer-meet-
ing, all in Waltham-street Chapel. On Tuesday preached again, on Wed-
nesday gave tickets, yesterday went to Barton and spoke nearly an hour
in the afternoon at a Missionary meeting and preached at night; this
morning I have returned home and intend to-night to preach and give
tickets to a class. So far I think I am quite as well as I was on Sabbath
morning. I judge it requisite to take a full average week's work now and
then by way of experiment, as the time is so near when I must decide
upon my fitness for the work of another circuit, and of the degree of my
fitness I can only decide by putting myself to the test of actual service.
And though, upon the whole perhaps, my results are satisfactory I am
not without apprehensions as to another appointment and decidedly think
that (humanly speaking) the chance for my life and some portion of health
would be much greater were I to abandon my ministerial career, than if
I persist in it.
Mrs. Morton leaves us next Monday. My fourth daughter was the
other day baptised-Mary Morrison-so you see we give great names to
our children, however poor their prospects may be.
Your affectionate friend and brother,
“ Joseph BEAUMONT.”
This series of letters, so minutely detailing the circum-
stances of the malady from which Dr. Beaumont suffered at
this time, has been inserted at the risk of wearying the reader
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
93
with to him uninteresting trivialities, because it shows the pa-
tience and resignation, the manly and Christian fortitude
displayed by Dr. Beaumont mingled with natural anxiety,
which was proper to him under such trying circumstances.
He was always, as has already been mentioned, a regular and
frequent correspondent with a large circle of friends as well
as relations. In later life, as his numerous family grew up,
he devoted much attention to them in this way and, his cor-
respondence about matters of business having increased to
prodigious proportions, he was compelled to relinquish to a
great extent that which he had formerly maintained with his
friends in general-but, whether with his chosen friends or
with his family or on business, it was surprising what a vast
amount of letter-writing he accomplished, in addition to all
his other labours. His daily budget of letters was in his
later years very large. A great number-by far the greater
number—of his letters related to his public life and required
personal attention and consideration. But, whatever the
subject, such an amount of correspondence was certainly no
light task to one who was otherwise constantly occupied.
Indeed the arrangement of his itinerant labours was itself
one of the most difficult of subjects-requiring the most care-
ful shaping of affairs, collating various engagements, consi-
dering local circumstances, and constant reference in later
years to the mysterious oracle of Bradshaw.
It is worthy of remark how in the midst of all his work he
was constantly in the habit of writing to his relatives and in
particular to his wife and in later life to his children. For
many years preceding his death it frequently happened that
at the periods of the Wesleyan Conference his family were
dispersed in various parts of the country in quest of health or
pleasure amongst their friends—but, wherever they were, each
of them would receive, often every day but certainly two or
three times a week, a letter not unfrequently of two or three
sheets giving full particulars as to such of the Conference
proceedings as concerned them. From the peculiar position
which he held for long in that assembly much that transpired
there was of great personal interest to his family and, as he
knew this and was a ready and rapid writer and the most con-
siderate of friends, though he was always immersed in most
•
94
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
f
laborious duties, he never allowed them to lack information
on such topics. In short he never lost sight of his creed, that
the social and domestic obligations were of the first importance,
and these he discharged either in personal or epistolary inter-
course with the greatest assiduity and pleasure.
It is however to be regretted that the parts of his corre-
spondence available for publication consist almost exclusively
of family letters. Most of those to whom in his early life it
was addressed are dead or their papers have been dispersed or
otherwise. The chief portion of his general correspondence has
not come within the reach of the writer, though the responses
addressed to himself which have been preserved show in many
cases its character. Many of his letters moreover, addressed to
friends both within and beyond his family circle, touched upon
matters relating to Methodism which, wherever they can be
avoided with justice, it is better to let pass into the limbo of
forgotten controversies than to introduce where they might
possibly hurt the feelings of some whose views, however dif-
ferent from his own, Dr. Beaumont himself desired always to
treat with respect and consideration. This is to be regretted
because he was not only a prolific but an admirable letter-
writer. He touched on matters either personal or general
with that tone of frankness, individuality, vigour and hu-
mour which epistolary literature ought always though it
does but seldom display-in fact for such exercises he pos-
sessed some of those feminine graces of the pen which men
usually want. It is the nature of family letters to be often
too entirely occupied by trifles, and always too much the ex-
pression of a certain set of feelings on subjects of particular,
personal and domestic interest, and consequently to be tame
and uninteresting to the general reader. At the same time
in these private, family letters may be found often much to
illustrate—and that in the most accurate manner, by a sort of
literary photography-the characteristics of their writer, and
consequently they have a peculiar value when the character to
be displayed is one which shone in private and domestic life
and of which, in its public features, there are other records.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
95
CHAPTER VI.
1828-1831.
DR. BEAUMONT had for his colleagues at Hull men well
known to the Wesleyan community and generally esteemed
by them. The late Daniel Isaac and Richard Treffry senior
and Mr. Samuel Jackson were collaborateurs with him at one
period or another of his residence there, and his relations with
them all were of the most friendly and agreeable character—
mutual respect and harmony of feeling, united with a com-
mon zeal about their great work, secured to all uniform satis-
faction in their joint labours. Mr. Treffry was afterwards one
of the Doctor's regular correspondents, and one for whom he
always entertained much regard and whose Christian character
and great abilities he highly estimated. The writer has not
been able to obtain any of his father's letters belonging to this
correspondence, but the following extract from one addressed
by Mr. Treffry to his old colleague, soon after leaving Hull,
mentions with how much pleasure and eagerness they were
always received. He says:-" Many thanks to you for your
kind, circumstantial and interesting epistle. To hear from
you is quite a treat to us all, and as soon as your well-known
hand-writing is recognised and the announcement made of a
letter from Mr. Beaumont,' we all instinctively and promptly
rally round the reader and wait with eager solicitude to hear
all the contents. Could you glance at us just in that mo-
ment and see the interest portrayed in all our countenances,
you would not grudge your pains in furnishing us with such
a rich repast. Letters I think should be like newspapers,
and, as was said of
's sermons, contain a little of every-
thing, and your last epistle was especially multifarious in
་
96
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
1
detail; and, though some parts of it were more likely to ex-
cite the sympathetic sigh than the ordinary delight, yet we
read it all with great interest."
The following letter addressed to his eldest brother details
his proceedings on a visit to London which he made in 1828
in search of advice as to his defective health and still defective
utterance, as well as to attend the Conference which in that
year met there :—
"London, 11 July, 1828.
'My dear Brother,—I left Hull last Saturday morning, accompanied by
Susy and our two youngest children, by steam-packet for London, and
arrived in safety after a half-pleasant and half-unpleasant passage—the
Sabbath half was the pleasant one. Among other passengers was a pious
clergyman with his two sons. The clergyman and myself held two public
services on board for the worship of the God
“Who rides upon the stormy sky,
And calms the roaring seas.'
I offered if he would 'do duty' to be his clerk, as well as I could,
which he accepted. Morning service was gone through on deck under
an awning. Not having a prayer-book and not having been at church
above a few times for the last fifteen years, I found myself at fault several
times with my responses; so that at length I thought it best to confine
myself within and content myself under some simple Methodistical echoes,
interposed partly right and partly wrong-wrong by the book, but right
I hope by the heart. After prayers the worthy reverend preached a very
appropriate, plain, simple and faithful discourse from 'The wicked are
like the troubled sea whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no
peace, saith my God, to the wicked.' The attendance of captain, pas-
sengers and some of the hands was very pleasing both in number and
behaviour: all was solemn and becoming. In the evening (for it was
nine P.M. before we reached the Tower Stairs) I preached to the same
assembly from 'Where two or three are gathered together in my name
there am I in the midst of them.'
"But about the voyage you care nothing-it is my progress since I
came to town with which you may not object to become acquainted. In
* Dr. Beaumont thought that the introduction of the Liturgy in Wes-
leyan chapels, in addition to a long extempore prayer and a sermon of an
hour, was unadvisable, as it was either mutilated or it fatigued the con-
gregation or was entirely neglected by them. In many cases where it is
used by the Wesleyans the congregations adopt the practice of entering
the chapel in the middle of the service when they take the prayers to be
But no man had a warmer admiration for that beautiful office or
more loved to read it or respond to it than he.
over.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
97
truth I have not much progress to report. Both the Fieldings of Hull
particularly recommended me to consult Dr. Armstrong, whom I saw on
Wednesday. He subjected me to comparatively little examination,
though his conclusion and opinion were very positive. The only question
which he asked, about the answer to which he manifested any interest in
the decision of the case, was-'Have you any pain in breathing on going
upstairs quick?—are you obliged to stop?' and so on. 'No; never was
stopped nor ever recollect pain peculiar to those circumstances.' 'You
would have remembered it distinctly if you had. Now you have no organic
disease I am sure: for I never knew that symptom wanting in organic
disease of the heart. You have not the combined symptoms. I am sure
your heart is sound. You have a large heart and a very sensitive heart.
In my museum I have human hearts of all sizes. The variety in the size
of the heart is immense. Yours is a large heart. I have listened to your
heart in both chambers, and the sound, the action is correct, regular,
quite natural. The action of your heart is not extreme, but you are in
a highly nervous condition-seriously wrong in your nervous system.
You must not take mercury, its effect on the nervous system is bad.
Four things affect the heart's action-bodily exercise, mental emotion,
change of temperature, and (I think he said) food.
I am con-
fident that you have no organic disease of the heart—I will pledge my re-
putation that you have not.'
“Such I think are the principal sentences which this Esculapian
oracle delivered.
"To my reference of his attention to the pain in the arm &c., he replied
that they were no criterion of heart cases, as they occurred in many other
diseases and states. He thought it probable that this kind of action now
going on would continue through life, but did not think it necessary that
I should resign the ministry; he however recommended me to rest two
or three months. He was evidently in a hurry, just about to go upon
his morning route, at 11 o'clock, but I had to wait a good while before
it came to my turn to be ushered into his 'presence.' He is quite a
young man-very little, I should judge, on one side of 30: nothing
foppish or pedantic or affected, but very natural and neat, accessible and
ready.
"Thus far all is encouragement: and as yet I have seen no other au-
thority. To-day I went in pursuit of Dr. or I believe Mr. Lawrence, of
whom a surgeon here speaks very highly, but I did not succeed in finding
him, and am now undecided as to my next application. Charles Bell is
also recommended to me, and whether to go to him, to Lawrence or to
Abernethy, I know not. At Mr. Morton's I am several miles distant from
all their eminences, and were it not that my father-in-law keeps a minia-
ture phaeton (and an animal to draw it, which, though horse by species,
is dog by size) I should be nonplused continually, or have my purse per-
secuted day by day with hackney coachmen. This conveyance takes me
till we reach the pavement, and there I part with it and trudge on.
Whilst here (and this is between ourselves, as reporting it, at present at
H
98
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
least, might lead to misconceptions and wrong conclusions) I have waited
upon Mr. Broster, so famous for the removal of impediments in speech.
I have had two very interesting interviews with him. He introduced me
to his sister, who is a Methodist and a most sensible, clever, pious lady
who, when her brother was in Edinburgh, met in Mrs. Walsh's class
there and accompanied her in her visits to the gaol, &c., and expresses
herself as under great obligation and much attached to her. Now it so
happens that Mrs. Walsh, who is an incipient Mrs. Fletcher and who
was the first-fruits of my ministry in the Edinburgh circuit, is greatly
devoted to me and had frequently mentioned me to Miss Broster.
Of this I am now likely to have the advantage. Broster thinks it very
probable that he can entirely relieve me; and in short, though his terms
are a hundred guineas and, if the pupil is in his house, five guineas
a week besides, I am going there next Monday morning, to stay a longer
or shorter time as may be requisite. He says a week may suffice for me-
at any rate he thinks I shall not need to be with him more than a fort-
night. From what he had heard and seen of me I am very greatly in-
dulged, but still am likely to be quite ashore.
"Dr. Lardner I have not been able to make out. Basil Woodd lives
many miles off. I think of writing to him to inquire the Doctor's resi-
dence. Distances here are so immense that I am quite baffled with them
in every direction. If you write soon address to Cadogan Place. My
mind now leans to a circuit-though I am not divested of anxiety about
my ailment and still think it suspicious and important, as I find it
troublesome and inconvenient. If I take a circuit I should greatly
prefer one as near Hull as may be, and am not wholly without thoughts
of Howden. York I find will be open. York I should like, but am not
sufficiently informed of its labour at present to judge of my fitness for it.
I had much rather be near Hull next year that in case I fall fll again
and am ultimately obliged to cease itinerating I may be near home, for
such surely I never can cease to feel Hull to be. I have called only on
Treffry, but he was out-for a week or two I wish to keep myself from
the rest of the host. Our love to your wife and to mother.
"Ever yours,
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
In the result the still invalid minister came to a hopeful
conclusion about his health, which was already much im-
proved, and determined once more to undertake his regular
duty. Amongst other circuits Nottingham had sought his ser-
vices, and in reply to their renewed invitation he had early in
the year written thus
"My dear Sir,-Your second favour, which I duly received last night
and for which I feel much obliged, I am sorry to say finds me in the
same circumstances as those in which I stood when I wrote you last, and
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
99
it is not, I assure you, without regret that I find myself compelled still to
withhold the pledge that you have done me the honour to solicit. Το
my feelings at least it would be much more agreeable to have some place
to which I might in all probability look for my next remove than to re-
main altogether afloat, and it would be every way gratifying to my incli-
nations, subordinately to the Divine will and appointment, prospectively
to cast anchor in Nottingham; but, with the suspense and uncertainty
which yet hover over the state of my health, neither my conscience nor
my judgment will suffer me to do so. Situated as I am then, I dare not
engage to any circuit lest I make myself accessory to its being found to
have trusted on a broken reed. I could not at present feel easy to accept
those attentions of a circuit which might otherwise be turned in an
efficient and more hopeful direction. I wait to know and to submit to
all the holy will of God, my merciful Father in heaven. With sincere
and grateful acknowledgments to yourself and friends for the kindness
and confidence you have shown me, and wishing that as a circuit you
may have much prosperity, and that God may send you ministers after
his own heart, full of faith and of the Holy Ghost,
“I remain yours very truly,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Nottingham was however still anxious to secure his ser-
vices, and to that town he proceeded on leaving Hull, deeply
regretting his severance from his old well-loved friends, yet
with hope and comfort for the future, and thence he penned
the following letter
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
"Nottingham, 22nd September, 1828.
My dear Brother,─By our early arrival in Nottingham I am happy to
say that the very affectionate intentions of the stewards are realised.
We are in possession of the George Street house, which is a great im-
provement upon any domicile we have had yet. Its situation is peculiarly
favourable; half the house is new and the furniture entirely so. Indeed.
it is precisely on the plan of your own-somewhat smaller in size, though
with a much larger yard. My entrance has been hailed and greeted in a
way quite out of all keeping with my pretensions or acquirements, and is
to me--I conceal it not-immensely encouraging and really overpowering.
Hitherto, through much mercy, I have overtaken all my work, with the
exception of having kindly been provided with a substitute on those
Sabbaths on which I had three appointments, so that I have not preached
more than twice a day. I find the greatest readiness and anxiety to
accommodate my infirmities and to minister to my convalescence. The
field to be traversed and cultivated is indeed large, and I am not without
apprehension that the labour will be too much for me. We have three
thousand members, and I have repeatedly given tickets to sixty or seventy
at a time after preaching. The congregations are large, and no small
100
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
·
degree of susceptibility has manifested itself already, and I feel quite at
home in my work. Your suggestion as to a pony-gig is very judicious
and important, but the requirement of means is so serious that I fear it
is impracticable, though I do not know but that I shall find it expedient
to keep a horse as even the shorter walks fatigue me, and constant bor-
rowing is unpleasant and to the lenders may prove wearying. For the
present I am going round making my observations, ascertaining my
capabilities, forming opinions and drawing conclusions, and I continue
so far convalescent. But I am and expect to continue an ailing brother,
whose days are likely to be abridged by several years by the kind of life
he leads and the infirmities he suffers. However I am making the ex-
periment of persistence in my former career, in the name of the Lord.
My colleagues seem agreeable, worthy men, and I hope will be useful.
Hopwood's heart, I fear, is no better case than mine.
"Here we are all quiet as to the constitution,' but there is an under-
current at work in the community for good or ill—a somewhat powerful
under-current setting in I hardly know whither. May we ministers be
faithful, holy and humble, and the rest we may leave to Him who sitteth
above the waterfloods, stilleth the tumults and the people, and remaineth
King for ever! I hear there is an open rupture at Barnsley-throes
commencing in some other places.*
Susy and the children seem pleased with their new situation and are
all well. Nottingham has the character of being a very healthy place--
the air certainly is much drier than at Hull. Susy unites in love to
yourself and wife and in respects to Mr. Cooper.
"Yours very truly and affectionately,
"J. BEAUMONT.'
""
The following letter was the last of its kind which Dr. Beau-
mont had the opportunity of addressing to his mother. A few
days after the next New Year she was away.
Nottingham, Jan. 2, 1829.
"My dear Mother, It was my intention to have written to you yester-
day, the first day of this new year to which the great and tender mercies
of our God have conducted us-but, partly through engagements and
partly through a natural and habitual slothfulness which has so much
the mastery over me, the day passed without the accomplishment of my
purpose. My thoughts spontaneously turned towards yourself, and I felt
it no small blessing that I had one dear parent alive in 1829, as well as a
favour beyond expectation that my unworthy life has been prolonged to
the beginning of another year; to God alone be all honour and praise!
I feel deeply humbled on a review of the past; I see nothing in the whole
year's labours which will bear inspection; I have failed in everything, yet
my trust is in the Lord Jesus and my desire is to live, while I live,
*This sentence alludes to affairs Methodistic-not political.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
101
in his spirit, after his example and to his glory. Oh, that for me to live
may be Christ, and then to die must be ineffable gain! Every year is
with each and every one of us uncertain and important as to what it may
bring forth. I hope that this will be the best year of all that you have
already spent; may grace have its perfect work that you may be perfect
and entire, wanting nothing. Oh, that with both you and me it may be a
year
of much prayer, of great faith, of constant self-denial and of a diligent,
ardent pursuit of that holiness without which we cannot enjoy the
eternal glory to which the God of all grace has called us by Christ Jesus!
How precious is time, how near is eternity, how short is life, how dear
the Gospel! May the Father of Eternity so teach us to`number our days
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom, and may great grace rest
upon you this year!
Perhaps death may come up among us before its close. Well, let us
be ready-scripturally, habitually, fully 'ready!' My health continues
tolerable though for a few days past I have been suffering from a cold.
Last week I spent three days at Derby, and James spent the whole of
Christmas day with me. He looks pale, thin and feeble, and I am sorry
to say is not without that forerunner of all that is bad, a cough. How-
ever I hope with care and the Divine blessing he will improve. I con-
tinue in my excursions in this neighbourhood to meet with many who
make · affectionate inquiries after you, and I am sure from the lively
interest that is manifested concerning you that when in these parts you
must have been a great and general favourite.
“Let us live and die in peace and love! Our united love to all; and,
wishing you all the best blessings and many returns of the season,
I remain your most affectionate son,
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
"JOSEPH."
"(
January 8th, 1829.
I
"My dear Brother, I am obliged to you for your kindness in sending
me the 'Intelligencers.' The name if not the fame of your town of
Bradford will now be diffused almost as far and wide as Catholicism.
must confess that I am not sorry that the controversy was carried through
without the co-operation of any of our divines. I do not think we shine
the most when we fight the hardest, though it is clear enough that
will fight on while his pluck remaineth. Peace be with his spirit!
"There is great distress in this town owing to the depression of the
lace trade which has not been known to be so bad, it is said, for years.
Yet at our quarterly meeting on Monday, contrary to the fears of many,
there was more money paid than ever was known since Nottingham was
a circuit. We have peace and prosperity of one kind but I think little
in another sense. We have had no general outbreaking, no strongly
marked visible work, no mighty, sweeping results of our ministry. Yet I
doubt not we have some fruit of our labour-oh, that God would multiply
it a thousandfold! On Sunday week I am going to preach for your old
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
ནཱ
+
friend Radcliffe, who has been rather disturbed in his domicile by the
arrival and operations of the Leeds fraternity. Mr. Johnson and another
have commenced a church after their new fashion upon an old Ranter's
platform in Newark. Well, I hope that the world will be the better for all
that is doing in it. 'Some preach Christ of contention, some of good
will-what then? That Christ is preached I do herein rejoice, yea and
will rejoice.' Oh, for less of self and more of Christ! May you and I
'follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth.' We are in danger of neglect-
ing the cultivation of personal piety and domestic improvement in the
midst of the rage and dust of public warfare.
“At present I think it possible that I may see you in April as I have
engaged to be in Hull on the twelfth and in Manchester on the nine-
teenth of that month. Susy's love with mine to all.
Yours very truly,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
44
TO THE SAME.
Nottingham, 20th April, 1829. -
My dear Brother, I am obliged to you for your wise and appro-
priate hints concerning the mode of discharging my pulpit duties, but the
fact is that on the Friday following the date of my last letter Dr. David-
son said that such was the state of my health that I ought not to preach
again for several weeks, that unless I rested altogether there was consi-
derable danger, but that if I rested there was almost none, &c. &c. With
this announcement, and feeling that I was indeed very unwell, and that
there was very great uncertainty whether I should be able by the time of
my engagement to go to London, I thought it my duty to tender my
resignation and am now free from London, though it is true that only a
few days ago, finding myself something better, I wrote to the secretaries
to say that if they could not procure a supply for the Friday night I
would still look forward to that, and to one of my appointments for the
Sabbath. From them I have received no reply, but yesterday I received
a letter from Mr. Treffry saying that the secretaries were all from home,
and that they had applied, on receiving my resignation, to Mr. Storry to
supply for me, but he had not heard of the result. But, as I have heard
nothing further, I judge that their application was successful, and that I
am consequently fully at liberty. My weakness, great general debility,
continues. My pulse is now generally too quick, and is not free from
irregularity; my cough continues, though perhaps it is abating in fre-
quency. Pains in my chest are still at times rather frequent and consi-
derable. My look too is against me and I am so far a disciple of Hip-
pocrates as to attach some importance to the countenance of a patient.
However, with all my ailments, I really think I am upon the whole con-
valescent, and yesterday morning I ventured to preach in Halifax Place
chapel, and got through with comfort, being very little annoyed by my
cough. To-day I have been walking for near two hours in the Park and
have come home and enjoyed a hearty dinner. So much for my ill
health.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
103
1
%
“At Hull the President, who was at Beverley last Sunday week, preached
for me in Waltham Street chapel on Sunday afternoon—an act of great
kindness to Hull and as I am disposed to take it to me also. I was
published to preach at Manchester yesterday morning at Irwell Street
chapel. Watson preaches to-night at Oldham Street. I had a letter,
kind, sympathising, saying that they had some hopes of prevailing on
Mr. Dixon to take my places. They seem not doing so well at Hull, and
I am exceedingly glad the President has been there and hope it may lead
to his interesting himself in their appointment at Conference.
I shall expect mother now every day. We are always ready for her.
.I am sorry she is leaving, and still more so for the occasion for it, though
I shall be delighted by and thankful for her living where I am. We never
lose our troubles in this life, we only change them, it is from wilderness
to wilderness until we get to Canaan. Our united love to your wife to
whom we wish a speedy recovery.
"Your affectionate brother,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
The engagement in London alluded to in this letter was to
preach some of the sermons at the anniversary celebration of
the Wesleyan Missionary Society, and he determined if possible,
in spite of increasing ill-health, to render at least one of those
services which he had promised. He set out from Notting-
ham for that purpose, but his illness gained ground so rapidly
on the journey that he was compelled at the last moment to
abandon his intention and return home. The following letter
addressed by him to the Secretary of the Missionary Society
alludes to this disappointment:-
“Nottingham, May 9th, 1829.
"My dear Sir,-I have just returned from the country where I have
been for a few days, and I think not without advantage. I need not say
that I have suffered much painful anxiety during the days of your anni-
versary at least as far as Sabbath night, from the apprehension of the
trouble and disappointment which my failure at so critical a juncture
might possibly occasion you. And I feel myself under great obligations
to the brother or brothers who so kindly occupied the pulpits which
I had vacated.
"For your affectionate and sympathising letters I feel myself quite in
debt-but I cannot receive anything for my expenses in attempting to
fulfil my engagement with you. Whatever they were I have given them
in the intended service of your inestimable, important society. It would
add affliction to affliction were I to be remunerated as your kindness
has prompted—and I therefore enclose the £5 which you have remitted
to me through Mr. Hopwood for that purpose, and I particularly request
that it may not appear in connection with my name anywhere or in any form.
104
LIFE OF DR: BEAUMONT.
?
!
“Absolute rest with God's blessing has effected some improvement in
the state of my health since the date of my last and I am now cheered
with the anticipation of being able to resume my ordinary labours.
Believe me,
"Yours very faithfully and affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
Dr. Beaumont was fortunate in having his mother in her
last days located in his own town, indeed for some time an in-
mate of his own house, and having thus the opportunity of
showing her that filial duty and affection which might brighten
her declining years and gratify his own sensibilities. Writing
with regard to her at this time he expresses the most tender
solicitude
"To charm her weary steps over the burning march."
In one letter he says-
"I am quite affected to witness the decline of my mother's strength
She should now have everything about her as smooth as oil, as quiet as
a summer's evening, and should be continually directed and assisted to
look at the things which are not seen, her nearness to which is so
obvious."
Speaking in the same letter of himself he adds-
“After spending last week in the country at a friend's house, I ventured
yesterday to preach in the morning at Halifax Place and in the evening
at Hockley, and this morning I feel no worse for the experiment—indeed
the second sermon I delivered with more ease and a stronger voice than
the first. The congregations were immense-to me, just now, a very un-
pleasant circumstance. Indeed the interest attendant on my poor minis-
try both surprises and humbles me, and I am half inclined to think that
my very defects are by a strange perversion of taste in the people the oc-
casion of popularity. I preached in the morning on a subject I rejoice
to feel my personal interest in-the 'exceeding great and precious pro-
mises.' Mother heard me at night at Hockley, and though she heard
little felt it good to be there. I am very sensible that all I do now is
perilous, as I am still an invalid-at best a valetudinarian, and this I
fear must be my state to the close of my career. I am of course involved
in much anxiety as to the future, these repeated attacks being without
doubt very menacing, highly alarming, and they constitute me a very in-
efficient and troublesome itinerant preacher."
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
(C
Nottingham, 18th June, 1829.
"My dear Brother,—On receipt of your last, I wrote to John inquiring
into his sad circumstances, and after the lapse of a week or more received
4
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
105
for answer that his wife's life was spared and that her terrible sufferings
had abated. Thankful indeed I was to learn that the shadow of death
had turned into the morning. My own circumstances are perhaps upon
the whole experiencing some improvement, and I am taking nearly the
whole of my regular work. My consumptive symptoms are mainly retir-
ing, though I am not yet free from cough, and have now and then at
intervals slight and short pains in my sides. My heart makes me ex-
ceedingly fidgety and restless and I think my uneasiness from its action
when lying is rather worse than otherwise. Mother is in her usual state
-frail indeed!
"Robert Newton preached here the other day from Mark xvi. 15. He
preached away as freely and impressively as usual. I learnt from him
that Mrs. Bowers was still alive, but with no hope of continued existence
and very near death to all appearance, but that she is cheerful and resigned.
Qur friend Bowers is quite overwhelmed with this withering calamity—a
desolating blight upon his domestic Eden peopled with a lovely and
loved wife and their children. Nothing seems to prosper just now but
blossoms and missions-one the promise of earth, the other of heaven.
Commerce generally throughout the island seems to be in a languishing
state. In Nottingham there is great depression and considerable suffer-
ing-and the same I find wherever I go. When, as a nation, shall we
learn righteousness? All below is vain and transitory and the fitful fever
of life with the strongest will soon be over. Oh, for grace to prepare for
the life everlasting of the world to come! The fear of the Lord that iş
wisdom, and to depart from evil that is understanding'-how infinitely
true! Mother, Mary and Susan join in love to you and your wife who we
hope is better.
"Your affectionate brother,
TO THE SAME.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
Nottingham, 12th Oct.
"My dear Brother,-Your letter to me in London was but just in time
as the pressure of my circuit duties made it incumbent upon me to leave
on Tuesday for Nottingham. However I found time on Tuesday morning
to attend to your request about the money and the book. The reply at
the Stamp Office where I asked your question was very emphatically
delivered in the following short sentence, 'It cannot be done at all;' the
manner in which this oracle gave forth its utterance was slightly un-
pleasant as well as considerably energetic. There is no edition of
Haller's works entitled 'Omnia opera Halleri.' The works of Haller
are not published uniform and entire, but may be purchased, some parts
in folio, some in quarto and some in octavo. His most complete and
valuable work is Elementa Physiologia Corporis Humani,' a copy of
which I have seen in excellent condition, bound in Dutch vellum, at
Cochran's and priced six and a half guineas.
I heard the opening lecture for this session at the London University—
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
7
I
4
it was delivered by Bell to a crowded audience and in the presence of
the other professors. As a composition it was tolerably eloquent and
chaste in delivery, but-the lecturer wanting a little of my 'exuberant
vociferation,' as you call it-was sadly inaudible to the majority who
were present. I was then shown through the whole of the interior by a
gentleman whom I had sat next to at Bell's lecture, an elderly gentleman
from the city who took wonderful pains with me and then gave me his
card and said he should be glad to see me at his house! The museum
is a splendid thing, many of the preparations being quite unique; poor
Chunie of colossal stature is in the centre of the great room in all his
osseous perfection and amplitude. I went into the refreshment rooms
and penetrated into the culinary laboratory. I could not however, much
as I admired the building and its workshops, help feeling but this is not
Edinburgh,' nor will it be for some time yet. I went another day and
heard -'s first lecture, whose delivery is shocking, being crowded with
the northern burr-r-r, and to complete my distaste to this anatomical
teacher he knocked down with the seesawing of his hands two jars with
anatomical preparations, dashing the one to his feet and prostrating and
separating the other on the table. I then intended to have heard
Conolly's first lecture but whilst pacing about I was asked whether I was
Dr. Conolly, and after replying with an emphatic No, unable to wait
longer, I set off to a christening at 's, whose increase has no end.
"L
Dr. Alderson is dead and buried. There was a great mourning for
the great dead physician, not less than ten thousand attending the
solemnity of his interment, and had I been anywhere nigh I would have
hastened to pay my respect to his memory with the gathering host that
testified their sense of his public and professional worth. As I have to
be in Hull on the 29th I shall perhaps hear something of his 'last days.'
"Yours affectionately,
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
Nottingham, Jan. 9, 1830.
My dear Brother,—I have tidings of a mournful nature, and dark
and sad and heavy is my heart. Mother, our beloved mother, is no more!
the weary wheels of her mortal life have ceased to move. She died this
morning at half-past ten o'clock.
"In the hurry and dismay of that moment I wrote you a few lines,
and with the bare chance of catching the guard of the mail hurried with
them to the coach office, but the mail had passed. Yesterday mother
was sitting up and seemed as cheerful as for the last fortnight; I was
with her in the afternoon, thought her brighter than for many days.
At eleven o'clock last night I was sent for with the information that she
was taken very ill. Immediately I hurried over and found her in great
distress, and sent immediately for the doctor. About one o'clock I left
her apparently composed and settled for the night. This morning I
received a message (for I was ill in bed) that she was dying. I was
·
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
107
forthwith at her bedside; she was much exhausted and she breathed
laboriously for some time, then became quiet and easy and gently
passed away.
*
Alas, all is over! sin and sorrow are with her no more for ever.
Still, the shock astounds me. Every day since Christmas-day I have been
with her conversing and praying.
I am suffering from a severe cold and a most annoying and despotic
cough seems fairly again to have got possession of me. To-morrow I
should be in Leicester but must be in bed.
"Yours,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Thus soon was the final separation between this mother
and her devoted son to take place! Writing to a relative of
her death, he says "So the one to whom I was most indebted
and whom I most venerated on earth is utterly gone from the
land of the living," and certainly never was mother more
fortunate and blessed in a child-if the high character, suc-
cess and happiness of a son and his constant and warm love
and uniform and delicate attention to her happiness can be a
source of blessing to a mother-than was she in this her son..
To his latest day he held her memory in the tenderest regard,
and annually used to pay to it a tribute in what he called his
pilgrimage” to her tomb. This was a periodical visit which
he paid to Nottingham to preach sermons for the benefit of
the Hockley chapel, in which she was buried. This chapel,
from its impoverished circumstances, was disposed of many
years ago and passed into the hands of the Primitive
Methodists. To prevent its being further alienated or alto-
gether desecrated Dr. Beaumont was accustomed, whatever
were his engagements and often at the utmost personal incon-
venience, to attend to the summons in aid of Hockley.
66
The numerous invitations to reside in various circuits which
he was accustomed to receive, however flattering to amour pro-
pre or gratifying in a higher point of view as a recognition that
he was not spending his strength for nought, were no doubt
often disturbing and embarrassing. In the spring of 1830 he
had as many as twelve of these applications from different
circuits in London, and from Leeds, Edinburgh and other
places. In Nottingham he was much beloved, happy and useful,
108
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
t
}
1
and he had no desire to remove thence, but there were reasons
which when the way was opened by a pressing invitation to the
London west circuit induced him to accept or at least to ac-
quiesce in the first instance in an appointment to it. But no
sooner was the appointment made (preliminarily) than the
grief and excitement of his people and the urgent appeals
which they made to him to continue with them caused him
to repent and retract. On the only occasion on which he
afterwards proposed to leave a circuit before his full time was
expired he was subjected to similar appeals but was not so
fortunate as to have it in his power to withdraw from his new
position. In this instance however circumstances arose which
enabled him to break off from London and he remained a
third year in Nottingham.
Dr. Beaumont's extraordinary and casual preaching en-
gagements also pressed so heavily upon him that he began to
feel "the burden of his greatness." He was indeed always
willing to comply with the requisitions on his services which
were made from the numerous places which he was accus-
tomed to visit in this way and in later years when they accu-
mulated beyond management he was curiously anxious to do
all that he could to comply with them. Although he was
often applied to months beforehand, it was a matter of great
difficulty to arrange and accomplish these duties as he desired,
even with the greatest ingenuity and laboriousness. The fol-
lowing letter is one belonging to this period which, though
addressed to a valued personal friend, and it may be thought
to display an unusual amount of interest and consideration as
to the subject, is in truth only a fair specimen of his ordinary
daily correspondence as to his constant preaching engage-
ments:
บ
•
:
"
·
TO GEO. LOCKING, ESQ.
"Nottingham, 17th Sept., 1830.
"My dear Friend,—I have thought a good deal about your coming an-
niversary, and have been very unwilling to give the negative which you
have received from me about it. After much consideration whether I
could by any means comply with your call, I now write to say that, if
you have not been successful in obtaining a supply yet for that occasion,
rather than you should be disappointed, I will engage to be with you for
the week-days. If you have been fortunate enough to complete your
arrangements, so much the better; and in that case you need not write.
.
+
嗑
​睡
​LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
109
Should there be a necessity for my services, you will inform me. If I do
not hear from you within a week from this date, I shall conclude that
you have happily prevailed elsewhere.
Wishing you much encouragement and success in your zealous
labours, and with kind remembrances to Mrs. Locking and your sisters,
in which Mrs. B. unites,
I remain yours very truly,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
These extra labours were remarkable not alone for their
extent and success but for their diffusiveness, if it is lawful so
to speak. In no aspect was Dr. Beaumont's character more
remarkable than in the abundance of that charity which bear-
eth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things and en-
dureth all things. His was no cramped, miserable, self-con-
tained, exclusive mind. It had a breadth of structure, an
expansiveness of capacity, a graciousness and a generosity which
elevated him to true greatness. The sceptic would admire
his charity and the bigot would call it latitudinarianism—yet
the narrowest zealot could not outdo him in ardour and devo-
tion to the truth such as indifferentists would denominate
fanaticism or at least would scorn as enthusiasm.
Such men
however have no perception of the grand principles which
actuate such a mind-the ardent, active faith, the far-seeing
intellect, the ever-flowing Christian hope, the manly self-con-
fidence and equally manly modesty, and above all the un-
bounded love from which such charity results-a charity only
further removed from the deadliness of latitudinarianism than
it is from the narrowness of the bigot or that venal prostitu-
tion of principle which is one of the most odious features of
bigotry. For in truth, while he utters with his mouth the
most grandiloquent sentiments, the thorough-paced bigot
more readily prostitutes what he calls his principles than even
the professed indifferentist or latitudinarian. No man is more
certain than such a one to yield to the temptation of an im-
mediate advantage for his sect or his party, though to obtain
it he may have to violate, to ignore or even to deny the cardi-
nal truths, the most essential articles of his creed and to
compromise his principles by some alliance which in others he
would not fail to characterise as an "unholy union," an
""in-
famous compact," or by some phrase not less vindictive.
So little however do many of us, moving in our several
110
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
microcosms, see beyond our own social and moral orbit that
multitudes there are-ay, and of the best and devoutest-
who cannot understand or who would little appreciate, still
less attain to, a charity so real and ample as can alone satisfy
the golden rule.
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy "-
and many are the Horatios in religion, as well as in politics
and philosophy, who display within their several spheres
true hearts, kindly dispositions and earnest purposes and
who are in reality devout seekers after God, but to whom
nevertheless it is not given to see into the great firma-
ment of truth in which their little systems are poised. Dr.
Beaumont was none of these. But wherever he found a
devout heart, an earnest wish or a good, sound, work-a-day
hand-intent on the glory of God, the assimilation of man's
moral nature to the Divine, the improvement of his temporal
condition or the elevation of his intellectual powers, he was
ready and eager to render his sympathies and prayers and
good wishes and hearty co-operation. The consequence of
this was that Dr. Beaumont's services were, perhaps to a
greater extent than any man of the time, called for by various
societies and classes of men, both religious and secular, so
that his labours as a Wesleyan minister-extensive and ex-
traordinary as they alone were-represent only a part, though
that no doubt a principal part, of his career. Nor did he care,
if in any way, with anybody, under any name, he could ad-
vance the temporal or the spiritual interests of his fellow-
men, how small and apparently unimportant the scheme, how
humble in its associations, how sneered at by the pragmatical,
the worldly or the pharisaical.
During his residence at Nottingham Dr. Beaumont took
much interest in a Theological Society which was formed
amongst the Wesleyans of that circuit for the purpose of inves-
tigating the science of Divinity, and in the part which he took
in this society the wide-spread charity of the man was as appa-
rent as the intellectual powers which he displayed in its discus-
sions. With regard to his views as to the great truths of Chris-
tianity it has already been remarked that he was utterly re-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
111
moved from latitudinarianism, and as to ecclesiastical polity
he was far from indifferent. The striking feature of his cha-
racter, as it was displayed with regard to these subjects, was
that, while he had strong and well-formed opinions of his own
he never had the slightest desire to restrict in others that
freedom of judgment which he claimed for himself. He be-
lieved, not nominally but really and practically, that Christ's
"Holy Catholic Church" was something which he could not
define by subdividing his fellow-men, and the limits of which
on earth it would be blasphemous in him to attempt to deter-
mine, but he at the same time believed the diversities of
opinion and of forms which characterise the visible church to
be essential to its spiritual life and to its universality. On
this subject he often expressed himself thus-"How can a
man be anything but a dead, insipid, helpless, pitiable thing,
if he has a ligature controlling his muscular exercise or his
vital functions? And so with the church. If I apply my
own notions to define the church, I bind up some vital belief
or some active Christian exercise of others who are quite as
devout and as competent to judge for themselves as I am.
And if you attempt to get uniformity—if you could get uni-
formity-it would only be uniform death, uniform stagnation,
and would be little better than no religion at all.”
·
In politics he seldom interfered-indeed never actively.
Nor is the writer sure that he took any active decided per-
sonal interest in politics as a science, though with the political
conditions and transactions of the day as they transpired he
was always much concerned. His views of political affairs
were consequently decided not by political, that is not by party
considerations for political science of course resolves itself
in this country in practice into party action, or at least it
must be beholden, as Burke expresses it, to party as a means
of producing its proper end-but they were the results of his
own judgment arrived at independently of any general princi-
ples or party traditions. Thus although he was probably
more of a Whig than anything else (if he must bear a political
name, and though his Whiggism was tempered by an innate
tendency towards the traditions of Toryism) he was an earnest
advocate of the great measure of Catholic emancipation, which
was the question of the period of his sojourn in Nottingham.

+
I
112
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
With regard to this measure he often said that in carrying it
the Duke of Wellington had, as was said of Themistocles, ex-
celled in council more than in the field. Nor did he support
this true reform on the grounds on which the Dissenters and
Roman Catholics allied themselves in order to extort the
repeal of the Corporation Test Act and the Acts imposing
Catholic disabilities from the two hands of the legislature, but
he did so simply in conformity with his uniform principle that
the State, in attempting to control, by such enactments as
those which the Act of 1829 repealed, the freedom of consci-
ence and of religious worship, committed an injustice and a
crime, contravened the laws of God and transgressed the
bounds of its proper province.
On removing from Nottingham (where he had been associ-
ated with the Rev. Messrs. Hopwood and Heaton as his col-
leagues) Dr. Beaumont had to select from nine different circuits,
including Bristol, York, Macclesfield, London and Sheffield-
all of which were anxious to secure his services. The invitation
which he accepted was to London, to the Southwark circuit,
and thither in 1831 he proceeded.
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
113
CHAPTER VII.
1831-1833.
IN Southwark Dr. Beaumont was received with even greater
warmth and secured even greater influence than it had here-
tofore been his lot to experience and command. He was in
the prime fulness of his life and powers, having surmounted
many of the difficulties which lay in the path of duty and
usefulness and having achieved a position consecrated to the
holiest of purposes. But at the same time, while his domes-
tic circle was now greatly enlarged and his young family
occasioned new cares and gave him at once new anxieties
and new pleasures, his public career was embarrassed by new
difficulties.
An Italian poet, Pindemonti, has with more than ordinary
felicity of similitude likened our march along the highway of
life from puling infancy to hoary age to the urgent advance of
a belated traveller through some beautiful mountain region.
And thus it is with us all. Our goal lies on the crest of the
steeps which must be surmounted, and we start in the bright
calm morning and dally by the flowers and streams and ham-
lets of the valley, and as we leave those scenes we set our
eyes on some point then limiting our onward view and quietly
advance, more pains-takingly as we gain each brow and ap-
prehend that a new stage is opened to us, yet still perhaps
leisurely and still contemplatively enjoying the beauties of our
way and the luxurious sunny landscape we have passed. Yet
the same story is repeated-point after point is reached, but
we gain not the open expanse to which it seemed that it would
usher us; nay, as we make each turn on our road, we find the
way only more and more rugged and arduous till, as the
I
114.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
shades of evening close upon us, if we have imprudently idled
on our way, we are forced to press forward with restless speed
and can scarcely allow ourselves a passing moment to glance
around on the solemn splendours of the mighty prospect with
its darkling shades and its blazing light-the fading landscape
bedecked with mist and gold and crimson-lest we should be
lost in the blackness of the night. Happy is the man who
can so regulate his journey that whether the way be rough or
smooth, luxurious or toilsome, he may reach its end with his
courage still as high to achieve and his eye still as bright to
rejoice in the close of his career as they were at his entrance
into life.
Felice tè, dirà forse ei, che scorto
Per una strada è ver solinga e muta,
Ma d'onde in altro suol meglio si varca,
Guingesti quasi ad ingannar la Parca!
Such reflections cannot but occur to one who traces the his-
tory of a life, and it is with considerable regret that the writer
approaches now a period of his father's history when, while
he had surmounted much and won a splendid prospect and high
position as a minister of Christ's gospel and of good to his
fellows, he was ushered upon a new and rugged path in which
he was compelled to take an active and prominent part in the
strife and turmoil of ecclesiasticism. And yet there is no
real reason for this regret, as in no aspect of his life did Dr.
Beaumont display more splendidly the high gifts and generous
character with which he was endowed than in this, albeit
strife and controversy were essentially alien and non-natural
to his mind. To pass it by would be to ignore some of the
most salient features of the man, yet to display accurately
and as it deserves all that he did and felt and suffered in the
conduct of what may be called Methodist politics might be
ungracious to many of his personal friends, or at least to
many of those between whom and himself, whatever were
their differences, there was mutual esteem; and it would cer-
tainly be offensive to another class often found in the "re-
ligious world" who are wedded to their own philosophy and
antagonistic to anything which transcends it in a measure
which party feeling on secular subjects has never been known
to arrive at.
TH
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
115
There is no choice left to a biographer but to display his
subject as he finds it, but in this case he will have to touch
features with a delicate hand, and in so doing will it must be
supposed fail to give them the importance or the expression
which belongs to them. But these observations are indeed
somewhat in anticipation. Though Dr. Beaumont had
already frequently taken part in the proceedings of the Wes-
leyan Conference, it was not for some months after his settle-
ment in London that he was forced by the strongest impulse
of duty to take up a position in that assembly which thence-
forward up to the day of his death he occupied bravely, for
there was room for bravery; disinterestedly, for his personal
happiness, position, and influence he placed at risk for no-
thing but his duty; and with a magnanimity which was ever
apparent. In sustaining this position he was mostly, if not
entirely, without support and was consequently subjected in
a manner to him personally most painful to misapprehension
and strenuous opposition, and indeed to strange obloquy and
misrepresentation from some of that class of whom the great
Condé, speaking to the Cardinal de Retz who had been at-
tacked by them, said "Ces coquins nous font faire et agir
comme ils s'agisseraient eux meme s'ils etait a notre place.”
On his arrival in London Dr. Beaumont wrote thus of his
new circuit to a much-valued friend.
TO W. B. CARTER, ESQ.
'7, Lucas Street, 1st September, 1831.
My dear Friend,-On my return home, which was not until between
nine and ten o'clock on Tuesday night, I was surprised to find that you
had called at our dwelling in the course of the afternoon, and had it not
been so late I should have set forth to wait upon you at your lodgings.
We feel really obliged by your kindness in tracing us out, especially at
so great a distance from the city, and it would have been most grateful
to my feelings to have seen you face to face. I cannot as yet say much
about our new circumstances: whilst all is strange it is more or less un-
comfortable. The circuit is all expectation and desire, and in such public
exercises as I have already gone through, I have found a ready people
and a present gracious Saviour-God. We had a pleasant journey, all
things considered, and arrived at our abode all safe and well-protected
and strengthened by a gracious Providence. May we be grateful, humble,
zealous and believing, that we may see and that we may extend the sal-
vation of God. Considered as the season of doing the work of the Lord
in, how infinitely precious is time-oh, that we may redeem it, and so
116
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
spend it as to make it tell upon the ever-growing happiness of a vast
eternity. Mrs. Beaumont has returned from her father's and begs her
affectionate remembrances to yourself and unites in mine to Mrs. Carter.
May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.
"Believe me, yours_much obliged, most truly and affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
(6
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
"7, Lucas Street, 28th Oct., 1831.
'My dear Brother, I have been meditating the infliction of a letter
upon you for some time, but have delayed the execution that matters
might somewhat progress and accumulate, that the Royal Mail' might
convey to you a little more than a sheet of paper with a few drops of ink
-curiously distributed upon its surface.
""
'My own health, thank God, has continued good since my change of
station, as also Susan's, but the children have had more sickness during
the last two months than for years before. Mary we thought we should
have lost and Rebecca and Fanny have both been very ill.
"
'Things had been going down in this circuit very rapidly, but at pre-
sent there is a most decided and obvious reaction.' The Southwark
chapel has been only half filled, but on my last two or three Sunday
evenings there, it has been actually running over. Eager applications
are being made for sittings and pews though the regulation of letting
has not come. The trustees and friends are mightily encouraged and,
in so far as we have gone, everything connected with Southwark is hope-
ful and exhilarating, much good is doing, several are entering the
classes, and the band meetings and prayer meetings have received great
accessions. So that I cannot but thank God, take courage, and go
forward.
"I have had many invitations from Queen Street and City Road
circuits, and from other places in London, but you will be pleased to
hear that I have heroically resisted them all. And as to calls from
abroad, I will only say that being requested to go to Hastings, Tunbridge
and Brighton, I yielded to the last, and this week I have been at Newport
Pagnell Josiah Hill being my colleague. Finding myself on Wednes-
day morning within six miles of Woburn Abbey I borrowed a gig and
horse and visited that magnificent seat of the Duke of Bedford, and a
great treat I had. It is particularly rich in paintings and sculpture. Of
the latter there is a most spacious and lofty gallery-a separate building
from the house-at one end of which is the Temple of the Graces, at the
other the Temple of Liberty—the one being the shrine of beauty, the
other that of Whiggism. In the latter of course the central divinity is
Charles Fox, the subordinate deities being Mr. Hare, Lord Holland,
Earl Grey, &c. &c. The statues from Rome, Egypt, Ephesus and other
cradles and nurseries of the arts I gazed on with more of admiration and
delight than I had supposed my nature susceptible of. But I must
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
117
check my pen from running into detail. I had need of all
my address
to obtain entrance, as it was not the day of exhibition to strangers,
and Lord John Russell and several other members of the family were
there. I always feel after such a day's inquisition into these collec-
tions of intellectual and artistic riches-the true source of pride, the
real beauties of our globe-every way a less despicable person than I was
before.
"Dr. Clarke is hurt at the conduct of Conference in making him super-
numerary, and has returned the first instalment which was sent him
from the Fund. He is preaching on public occasions in London nearly
every Sunday, and has crowds of people. It requires some effort to be-
lieve that all is right and that everything is for the best; however we
must address ourselves with zeal and fidelity to the various duties which
belong to our several allotments in life, ever preparing for the life that is
to come. Yesterday evening I made my way to Tottenham Court Road
chapel, where James Parsons was valiantly holding forth on being
*valiant for the truth.' The crowd was prodigious-I dare say many
hundreds went away, unable to press in. Jay preached in the morning,
but I was then returning from Newport.
"I was in the House of Commons two nights of the three that were
filled with speeches on the third reading of the rejected bill, when I heard
Watson's friend, Macaulay, who certainly is eloquent, but not on that
account to rival Sadler.*
Give my most affectionate regards to Mr. Bowers, and tell him that
a letter from him would be sure of a very hearty welcome from me.
Susan's love and our united affection to Mary.
Your affectionate brother,
Jos. BEAUMONT.
In another letter dated in the spring of 1832 he writes,
"Disease and death are much at work in our neighbourhood.
We have lost two respectable members of the Southwark con-
gregation, and (this morning I heard) a local preacher by the
cholera. But in general its victims are the drunken, the
filthy, the outcast and abandoned of the population. A
temperance society and a benevolent society would form a far
more effective cordon sanitaire against the frightful humbling
scourge than a 'Board of Health,' with Apothecaries Hall to
* This passage refers most probably to the third reading of the Re-
form Bill, which took place in September, 1831, in the newly returned
House of Commons, after the dissolution occasioned by the division on
General Gascoyne's motion against reducing the number of members,
which had been seconded by Mr. Sadler in a speech certainly one of the
most powerful of those delivered in the course of the protracted debates
on that measure.
ปี
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
boot.
Dr. Clarke was last Sunday a little farther
in Kent than I was. He was preaching for the unfortunate
chapel at Canterbury, whilst I was for the (comparatively)
fortunate one at Rochester, and so for once things were as
they should be—the strongest employed in aiding the poorest
and the weakest. We expect him to baptise our young one
on the morning of the 29th. As I particularly approve of
the audi alteram partem I am obliged to you for the 'Leeds
Mercury.' Government intentions in their education plan
I approve and the measure I think politically wise; but I
think that the end which the Bill proposes should not be
sought by a proscription of the Bible as a whole. As to
Romanism and Protestantism I do not believe that they will,
or even wish that they should run on in parallel and harmoni-
ous lines for generations to come." *
Wesleyan Methodism like every other form of religious
society has developed its various phases of government and of
policy. In its missionary condition it troubled itself nearly
as little about dogmatic belief as about church government or
policy. It was originally intent only upon calling sinners to
repentance-its spirit and its practice were alike simple, ear-
nest and spiritual. Just as it was in the primitive church, so
was it in the Methodist community that as it increased in
numbers, wealth, and influence it was thought to demand some
systematizing which should regulate its advance and control
its action. Forthwith sprang up the old controversy, which
had sprung up in every other sect, between lay and clerical
influence. The controversy is still waged, perhaps less vigor-
ously and violently than it has done, but never have the
clergy claimed a more ample authority in virtue of the pas-
toral office than amongst the descendants of those primitive
preachers whom the Wesleys summoned to their assistance.
Dr. Beaumont had a mind particularly diverse from the
*This allusion is to the measure for education in Ireland which was
introduced by Lord Grey's government and expounded by Lord Derby
(then Mr. Stanley and Chief Secretary for Ireland) in a most able speech.
The main object of his proposition was to establish a national educa-
tion for Ireland on such a basis that as well Catholics as Protestants
should avail themselves of it without exposing their children to prose-
lytism.
.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
119
1
priestly" character. He knew not on what basis to assume
any government over his fellow-Christians except on the
authority of pre-existent rules to which all were subject. He
well knew what it was to preach Christ crucified, to reprove,
to exhort, to minister, to comfort, to cheer the weary, to sus-
tain the feeble, to recall the erring-but he comprehended
not how to speak with an inspired voice except when he spoke
inspired words; nor could he ever be found to deny to others
that right of private judgment which he himself claimed.
On the other hand he as little knew what it was to fear any-
thing that man could do to him. He had a manly self-confi-
dence, a Christian reliance on a Divine Comforter, and he
calmly submitted to any opposition that he might meet with
in the path of duty.
If we look for a moment at the condition of the Methodist
clergy and people, we find amongst the latter many who from
temperament, habit, principle or weakness, some from the
highest of motives and others from motives quite the reverse,
look upon the pastoral office as that of "lordship over God's
heritage," and who accordingly look upon Wesleyan ministers
as practically infallible and the Wesleyan Conference as abso-
lute rulers of Methodism. There are others who from equally
various motives hold that the priesthood has not the exclusive
rule over the Church, that Wesleyan ministers in particular
can claim no inherent authority, while some proceed to say
that the visible church and its government are merely secular,
accidental and arbitrary in their nature, and some allege that
the Wesleyan ministers have been gradually raising up a sys-
tem of priestly domination, depriving the laity of their just
liberty, taking advantage of their confidence to fetter their
consciences and have in fact essentially modified, if not actu-
ally subverted the true economy of a well-regulated Christian
Church.
Without going into any of these questions, it is enough to
point out that they have existed, and been anxiously mooted
for many years amongst the Wesleyans, and it is certain that
their clergy have in their Conference assumed an amount of
control over the Church which numbers of their people
have never conceded, and have required of the laity a uni-
form adhesion and submission to their votes and mandates.
+
120
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
To complete this sketch of the internal position of Wesleyan
affairs for the benefit of such readers as
are not fami-
liar with the economy of that body it is necessary to add
that the Conference sits with closed doors, admits no person
whatever but its own members to its councils, admits of no
appeal from its voice and is of course, like every assembly
which meets periodically, very much influenced if not con-
trolled by a number of its members, conspicuous for talent or
official experience or some other form of influence. As to the
formal constitution of this "Conference," it consists of one
hundred ministers originally appointed by John Wesley, and
continued in perpetual succession in a prescribed mode; but
in practice a large proportion of the Methodist preachers
whom duty or inclination may call to its sittings take part in
the deliberations of that assembly.
It may easily be imagined that with Dr. Beaumont's large-
minded views, with his respect for the liberty of all persons,
with his repugnance to, or rather his contempt for arbitrary
power, he would take up a very decided position in the Me-
thodist legislature. He had no sort of sympathy with discord
or licence, but on the other hand entertained the most pro-
found reverence for order, and considered that liberty was often
enshrined in the temple of formality. His principles there-
fore led him while yet a young man to assume in his place in
Conference a position anti-ecclesiastical, and in support of the
established privileges of the laity, a position which he main-
tained out of no disrespect or hostility to those whose habits
of mind and principles were opposed to his own, but simply
because he found that they were so opposed and because he
conscientiously believed that, as with those who held sincerely
contrary views, so with himself, all were bound to give their
judgment and their exertions in support of what they believed
to be truth and justice. To this course he adhered, through
evil and good report, until the end of his laborious life with
an amount of courage and at an expense of personal suffering
which made his conduct nothing less than heroic.
The writer will for the most part pass over all matters of a
controversial or political character in Methodism except so
far as they may incidentally and occasionally be referred to
in letters, which it may appear difficult to excerpt—but some
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
121
1
few of these contests are too important in his father's life to
be passed over. The first to which allusion must be made is
a case in which he was placed under the direct censure of the
Conference-a censure which he felt much but bore cheer-
fully, for the sake of friendship as well as of justice. Dr.
Adam Clarke, though a great pillar and ornament of Metho-
dism, was subjected to some harsh treatment in the Wes-
leyan Conference, by reason of his occupying to some extent
the bold and independent position which his friend Dr. Beau-
mont filled. It would be out of place to dilate on or to in-
quire into the history of such events as these. Suffice it
therefore to say, that Dr. Beaumont, though Dr. Clarke him-
self had succumbed to what he thought too great a power to
be resisted, felt it his duty to obtain for his distinguished
friend redress in this matter, and he urged this cause with a
pertinacity and force which surprised both friends and oppo-
nents, and made the latter feel that the bold assailant must
be vigorously repelled.
There is no occasion to recall the ghost of this byegone
imbroglio, but the result was that while the power and elo-
quence of Dr. Beaumont produced a great effect in the Con-
ference and it is believed that many of the preachers enter-
tained gratitude as well as admiration for his generous conduct,
and though his object was fully attained, he was himself for-
mally censured by that assembly. Allusion will be found to
this affair in some of the following letters and, referring to it a
few weeks after its occurrence and immediately after the death
of Dr. Clarke, which supervened upon it almost directly and
suddenly, he said (after calling to mind a sermon which he
had shortly before preached on the occasion of a sudden
death in his congregation) "A few hours after I left the
pulpit I was on my way to Liverpool to discharge what I felt,
whether rightly or wrongly, to be due to Dr. Clarke and to
the Methodist Connexion. My manner of discharging that
no doubt was exceedingly faulty, as is my manner of doing
everything I attempt to do-but that I did it then, that I did
it at all, affords me as high a satisfaction, as any public event
of my life. Down to the last day of my existence I must
look back upon the attempt, upon the motive which prompted
me with the entire approbation of my own mind. I have
-J
122
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
lived long enough to know that self-reproach is an infinitely
greater calamity than any other reproach except the reproach
of the Almighty."
The following letter was addressed to his wife. Mr. Toase
who is alluded to in it was the Doctor's much esteemed col-
league at Southwark :-
"Liverpool, 25th July, 1832.
My dearest Susan,-I had really a pleasant journey to this place, and
those very unpleasant symptoms which I had been troubled with, parti-
cularly on Sunday last, have left me and I think the change has been
beneficial, Conference commenced this morning-votes for the presi-
dency were fifty-six for Dr. Clarke and ninety for R. Newton. When a
vote of thanks was proposed by Mr. to the ex-President, I rose to
object to so much of his conduct as related to Dr. Clarke. This led to a
debate which lasted until four o'clock this afternoon. The Doctor was
heard, and though the vote of thanks ultimately passed, I consider that
I have done good service to the Connexion by the part which I have
taken, though it has brought upon myself a great deal of annoyance,
and I may say something more. I am thankful that I had the courage
and strength to go through it.
“The cholera here is on the decrease, but there is much apprehension.
I feel concerned about you and the circuit. If you have not written,
write to me by return of post and say how you all are, and what are the
further ravages of the dreadful disease. As I have done my principal
duty here, I think of going for my health to Southport and spending a
few days there. I have been so worn down with excessive labour and
anxiety, that some short cessation I consider most necessary and de-
sirable. Nevertheless I feel most anxious about the circuit. Do see Mr.
Langley and ask him if he thinks I can remain absent according to my
original intention without real inconvenience. If any change of plan is
necessary for your comfort, or the comfort and satisfaction of the circuit,
I shall be most ready to make it. As it is possible that I may have left
Liverpool for Southport before a letter from you in return to this can
reach me, you had better address to the care of Rev. W. Toase, Bruns-
wick Chapel, Liverpool, so that should I be away he may forward it to
me. I am not aware of anything here that has occurred, or that I have
seen that is worth relating. I breakfasted this morning at Lieutenant
Brown's, where the good people inquired very kindly after you. I dined
with J. Crowther at Mrs. Booth's, his mother-in-law, who has a nice
house here in Edge Hill. Perhaps you may see me after all sooner than
you expected. God bless you and the children. May we be spared to
meet again, and to bless the name of our gracious and almighty De-
liverer.
"I remain, yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
123
The following letter was addressed to the President of the
Conference with reference to the vote of censure alluded to
above. It refers, perhaps explicitly enough for the purposes of
this work, to the grounds on which the Conference had thought
proper to condemn the Doctor's conduct. He had felt it his
duty to insist on attending the Conference though the "Dis-
trict Meeting," or local ecclesiastical court, which has juris-
diction in such matters, had refused its sanction to his doing so.
"White Hart Inn, Liverpool, July 30th, 1832.
"Rev. and Dear Sir,—The resolution of the Conference expressing its
disapprobation of my conduct in coming to it, is one which I feel and
after mature deliberation cannot avoid feeling, to be harsh and severe.
"First: No one in the whole history of the Connexion was ever so
treated before for 'coming to Conference without leave.'
Secondly: The allegation that I came in the teeth of the District
Meeting is immensely reduced, if not altogether set aside, by the fol-
lowing declaration. The opposition (for decision it can scarcely be
called) I considered at the time and afterwards, and do now consider as
that of a party. There are at least fifty persons in the District Meeting,
three only of whom spoke against my coming. Mr. Toase, my Superin-
tendent, urged my request and with the exceptions stated all the rest
were silent.
""
Thirdly I did make inquiry in the District Meeting concerning the
cause of Dr. Clarke's dissatisfaction with the treatment which he received
from the last Conference, but could obtain no answer-no information
whatever.
Fourthly: Rather than give notice to Mr. ex-President, I thought it
more becoming in myself, and less offensive to him, to follow the prece-
dents which had been set at the Liverpool and London Conferences, on
occasions somewhat similar.
“I consider therefore that I have not broken the spirit of any law, and
that my breach of the letter of one of its regulations, if not justified
altogether, ought at least to have been excused by the circumstances that
gave rise and the motives that gave birth to it, several of which have
been fully explained to the Conference. The resolution therefore of
Friday last, passing as it did after the acknowledgment I had made, I am
bound in conscience to declare I cannot acquiesce in.
"The effect of the resolution it is impossible to describe or foresee. I
am now a consciously, deeply, and irreparably injured man-injured in
person, character, family, ministry and in general in my efficiency for
public service-publicly and permanently injured, and that for a mere
peccadillo, which had been excused by preceding and accompanying cir
cumstances, and cancelled by subsequent acknowledgment. My feelings
as a man, my sense of honour as a gentleman, my character as a Chris-
tian and my reputation and usefulness as a minister have been subjected
124
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
unnecessarily to a shock and indignity the most painful and extensive. I
owe it to myself to declare to the Conference that such is my judgment
of this proceeding, whilst I have been compelled by necessity to submit
to it.
"Yours respectfully and affectionately,
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In the original draft of this letter Dr. Beaumont proceeded
to offer his resignation as a minister unless the Conference
should withdraw its censure. After preparing that draft he
determined to withhold his resignation if the vote should be
withheld from the minute-book. He proceeded to enquire of
the President whether that vote was to be recorded, and on
being assured that it should not, he added, "Because if it had
been, that would have terminated my connexion with this
Conference,"
TO HIS WIFE.
"Liverpool, 31st July 1832.
My dear Susan,-I duly received your letter, and was very thankful to
find that you were all well and preserved from the stroke of the pestilence,
and that the circuit seemed to be moving on without sensible injury from
my absence.
"Dr. Clarke is restored to his place as a regular preacher, and will have
an appointment not as a supernumerary. He is a great, good but incon-
sistent man. He did not properly stand by me in the desperate effort
which I made on his behalf, but he has acknowledged to me his great
obligations both in public and private. I have this morning conversed
with him, and have asked him to preach in Southwark Chapel for the
circuit debt. His answer was, ' to honour you, and to express my sense
of obligations I will certainly preach for you; write to me by and bye,
and I will, depend upon it, comply with your wishes.' This you may tell
Mr. Langley-that Dr. Clarke has fully and heartily consented to preach
at Southwark at any time that may be fixed upon, and that will at all
suit him.
"The Conference is getting on rather rapidly now. I am going in a
day or two according to my present intention to Bradford, and on Sunday
preach at Bingley, from which I have received a most pressing invitation
to preach their school sermons. I have this day had a letter from
Thomas, who very much wishes me to go to Bradford and Bingley, and
as the circuit seems likely to sustain no injury by my absence a few days
longer, I have consented to go to Yorkshire, and shall be in London I
hope in the early part of next week. My health continues better I think
than when I left home and I am glad to hear that you are all well. My
love to all, and tell Joseph that I hope he will soon see his 'awa' and
that all will be well. I have seen the Crooks, Capt. Browne, Kayes,
་
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
125
Mrs. Kayes, &c., &c., all ask very kindly and particularly after you and
yours. All that hear of your six children lift their eyes to heaven in
amazement and down to earth again in anxiety! However God bless
them all and you too. Remembrance to Christy.
"Ever yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Dr. Beaumont felt deeply the death of the distinguished
man to whom the above letter refers. He offered what he
supposed would be the last tribute to his friend in publishing
a funeral sermon in which he pronounced the éloge of that
remarkable scholar and divine. But it was not to be that
death itself was to sever the fortunes of these two friends, for
those differences which it might have been imagined would
have been hushed in united regret still found a voice and,
though the object of the controversy had gone to his reward,
so much the more reason, at least so thought Dr. Beaumont,
that while his spirit was raised above such bickerings, his
reputation, the earthly shadow of his spirit, should not be
left championless.* The whole of the year 1833 was there-
fore spent in painful toil and battle for his friend, and many
were the wounds and risks both of heart and of position which
the champion incurred. Those not conversant with the in-
ternal affairs of religious societies will ask what was it, what
could it be all about, and many more will have forgotten what
it was all about. In truth it would be a bootless task to peer
into the shades of past grievances, and it would be quite be-
side the scope of these chapters to do so. It is pertinent
however to remark that not only the reputation of his friend
as a public man but, as Dr. Beaumont believed, the prin-
ciples of justice and religion, were concerned in these contests,
and he was not the man to hesitate to defend either the one
or the other.
At the meetings of the "Book Committee," an assembly of
preachers which meets in London and which, without any
proper functions beyond specified duties of a business or lite-
Opportunity was seized in the same way after Dr. Beaumont's death
to cast a slur upon his memory by some who had been opposed to him
in matters ecclesiastical. It is not worth while in such a case to do more
than notice the fact.
•
雌
​1
126
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
rary character, and without any recognised authority in the
church, as it consists of a large number of the leading
ministers who are centralised in the metropolis, has assumed a
very extensive and considerable influence in Wesleyan affairs
and has become a sort of minor Conference. At these meetings
Dr. Beaumont throughout 1832 and 1833 was involved in con-
tests, mainly relating to matters before alluded to, which se-
riously interfered with his happiness and labours. Ulti-
mately, finding that notwithstanding his recognised position
in the society and the particular circumstances of public in-
terest which as he believed demanded his attendance at Con-
ference, the London District Meeting thought proper to refuse
him liberty to attend the sittings of that assembly in 1833, he
came to the conclusion that, as his presence within the juris-
diction of the London preachers might involve a continuance
of strife without securing any advantage of adequate public
importance, it was his duty to withdraw from the metropolis
to some circuit where he could follow out what was the grand
object of his life, the publishing Christ's Gospel, without
having his mind distracted by duties which were irrelevant to
his great work of "calling sinners to repentance," and which
were sufficiently painful to him at the period of Conference.
Accordingly, after some hesitation, he gave his acceptance to
an invitation which his old friends in Edinburgh pressed upon
him to return to that city.
The determination to leave Southwark, where he had met
with every kindness personally and every success which he
could desire in the exercise of his ministerial function, evoked
the warm remonstrances and the strongest expressions of
sorrow from his people there. "The opposition and distress
here," he says in a letter to a friend, "exceed anything that
I could have thought possible in any case, much less in mine."
Early in this year too died his eldest brother in the prime of
his life-a man highly gifted in every respect except in those
practical qualities which restrain what are called by friendly
critics the "erratic displays of genius," and which those of a
more stern aspect hold to be the evidences of an unstable
mind. He had been less fortunate in early life than his
brother Joseph-having been denied the fulfilment of his ear-
nest desire to become a Wesleyan minister, and cloud had
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
127
chased cloud across the fair prospect of his life. At last after
many trials, and after studying at Paris and at Edinburgh,
where he was very highly esteemed by the professors as well
as his fellow-students, and when it seemed that as a physician
he would find a congenial and happy lot, he was suddenly re-
moved by the results which followed on a puncture which he
received in his finger while conducting a post-mortem exami-
nation, and the story of his days was shut up for ever. Dr.
Beaumont felt this loss most acutely, the warmest affection
having existed between himself and this brother, whose name
to his latest years he never uttered but in the most tender
and mournful tone. Altogether the year 1833 was one in
which a good deal of the dark side of the clouds of life ap-
peared, though there was still sufficient of the golden light to
cheer this traveller in his resolute pursuit of his calling and
his duty. Writing of their eldest brother's death, he thus
addressed his brother Thomas :—
""
Southwark, 3rd March, 1833.
My dear Brother,-We are bereaved indeed! This is to me a greater
blow-a more affecting, afflictive event than I ever yet experienced, or
can attempt to describe. What can I say—what shall I do? Sur-
rounded as I am by dear relatives even yet, and by multitudes of af-
fectionate and confiding friends, alas, how forlorn and desolate I feel!
"I have not time-I have not firmness enough to write you now.
What a withering cloud! Mr. Haswell wrote me, but I did not receive
his letter till Friday, too late-too late-alas, alas, too late, to see my
well beloved, noble brother alive, dying or dead, or to attend his burial!
'I was dumb: I opened not my mouth, because Thou didst it.' It is, it
is the Lord!
"It is with the greatest difficulty that I can prevent myself from setting
off to Edinburgh, to see the room in which he suffered and died, and the
spot of earth in which he is interred—Oh, my heart is sad; my fond,
talented, good, devoted brother is not!
"I have got my pulpit supplied this morning-but I have thought it
my duty to ascend it this evening: how I shall get through God only
knows. On Tuesday I have to leave home for Blandford, Dorset, to open
a chapel there on Wednesday-so that it will be Thursday ere I can
reach London again. Mr. Selby has just called-and I have begged him
to bear these few lines from, my dear brother,
"Yours most affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In no public movement of his time did Dr. Beaumont take
128
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
!
a more active and deep interest than in that grand effort for
effecting the abolition of negro slavery which will dignify the
first years of the eventful reign of William the Fourth-
eventful at least in the domestic politics of England-to re-
mote ages.
Of slavery in all its forms, intellectual, reli-
gious, and political, as well as domestic and social, he had
a vehement abhorrence. He used often to speak in terms
of contempt, or rather of pity-for contempt was a feeling
which his mind seldom developed-for those who lie under
the various species of slavery which one sees in daily practice
in society, and in indignant objurgation of the many tyrants
of mankind. There was a peculiar demand on the part of his
own mind and his own physique for liberty of all sorts-he
could not breathe intellectually or morally except under the
open breezes of those expanses of thought and sentiment and
action to which he ever tried to lead and elevate all within
his influence. This demand was so striking and ever present
that he could not himself fail to perceive objectively how it
was constantly active within him. He often said, in the vein of
his remark on the value of religious liberty quoted above, that
a man's mind could not act healthily any more than could his
throat with a ligature about it, and that those who were be-
guiled, betricked and befooled into such restraints ceased to
have a mind at all-that for his part he could not exist with-
out elbow-room and fresh air in which to exert his powers."
A name often invoked is that of liberty-goddess more
shamelessly prostituted to the foulest of passions and the
basest of purposes than any of the stately tutelaries of the
temples of Corinth or of Cyprus! How solemn was that apos-
trophe of Madame Roland, perhaps none more so, or more
pregnant with reflection and with warning, as—standing almost
the last of that illustrious party of the Gironde which, boast-
ing fairly of its talent and its eloquence, in virtue and de-
votedness at least almost unexampled, wanted perhaps religion
alone to insure its success and stability-standing a heroic
spectacle for all time on that bloody place where almost all
her chosen friends had fallen, and with the fatal knife gleam-
ing aloft, she appealed to the statue of Liberty, which had
smiled in placid irony on the slaughter in her sacred name of
the flower of France, with the well known words-"Oh Liberty,
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
129
5
?
how many are the crimes that are committed in thy name!"
Not thus did Dr. Beaumont abuse the name of freedom
which he well knew might be but the best of masks.
None of the arguments however by which the advocates of
negro slavery (and they were numerous and able and, in
many cases, disinterested too) sought to defend it had the
least weight with him, but his whole soul revolted against the
degrading exhibition of selfishness and pride and the lust
of power which it afforded. In its political light he viewed
it as a curse and a clog; as a social institution he perceived
how it blighted the well-being of the tyrants as well as of the
victims; as an industrial resource he believed it to be waste-
ful and ruinous; and as a wrong—anti-Christian, ungenerous,
unmanly-he esteemed it unparalleled. His aid was there-
fore given with more than ordinary pleasure to advance the
great work of emancipation, and he was frequently called to
be a coadjutor of the philanthropists who effected it. He
was however in this as in all other things pedetentious and
far-seeing and he did not allow himself to be carried away
with the idea that a great object was independent of the ordi-
nary elements of political results. He felt the importance of
the apprenticeship system and of safeguards against those
minor evils, which have in the event sprung up together with
the grand and proper fruits of negro emancipation, as many
foretold would be the case, though not to the extent which
the opponents of the measure prophesied.
The following letters to his brother return to some of the
difficulties in which he was placed in his own religious com-
munity at this time by his untiring and resolute defence of
his principles and his position. It will be seen that, not satis-
fied with the other opportunities which were afforded him of
vindicating these, he at one time thought it advisable to print
certain appeals to his clerical brethren for selected and ex-
tended circulation, which however on more full consideration
he withdrew.
"3rd July, 1833.
'My dear Brother,-Yours of the 27th I found on my return home
last evening, and take the first opportunity to reply to it. And first let
me present you my thanks for the warm and active interest which you
manifest in my affairs and for the zealous service so promptly rendered
by you in their progress.
}
K
130
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
"I am pained to have to lie before the public in the way actually
taking place; my consolation is a belief that good to the connexion will
and must be the result-and if that consummation ensues I may safely
say that I am exceedingly indifferent as to any personal trouble or an-
noyance inseparable from my course.
You seem so anxious about my going to Conference that for the
quiet of your own mind I may say to you that I do not intend to go-I
shall not force a door open for myself: I am not so to degrade myself
even in trying to do good and asserting a just cause.
I may further
tell you that most respectable brethren are ready to move and second
that I shall have leave to attend the Conference, and have written to me
to suggest that I would memorialise it and crave the favour of attending,
and that they would call for the letter and found their motion upon the
fact of such a letter having been sent by me. I have written to my friend
to say that I do not think that any power or circumstances will or can
induce me to ask that as a favour which ought to have been conceded to
me as a right-that I never knew any good to result to any one or any-
thing from writing to the Conference-that now, finding my views are
not peculiar to myself but that powerful men are possessed by them in
whose hands they will be better than in mine, I have no wish as I see
no absolute necessity to attend, but that I am not fully determined on
what I shall do, though I had thought either of addressing the Conference
(not however asking leave to attend it) or of addressing a letter, that is
printing a letter or letters to the preachers-the first to those of them who
were at the three first days of the last Conference, animadverting on their
course and deed-the second to Mr.
on the proceedings of the Lon-
don District Meeting-and the third to the preachers generally, stating
the points in which I feel concern, and on some general affairs of the con-
nexion. Should I adopt the latter course, I must pay the postage of every
letter, as otherwise I fear the contents would be unwelcome whatever
might be their nature: but in an affair of so much magnitude expense is
no object with me.
Already I consider that I have done nearly as much as I could do
were I at the Conference: that is, I have served the body nearly as effec-
tually as I could have hoped to be able to do had that been granted to
me which certainly ought never for a single instant to have been with-
held-permission, the usual permission, to attend the Conference.
“At present I am obliged to consider what part I ought to take as to
my appointment next year. I am utterly weary of having to beg like a
pauper for leave of my brethren to attend Conference when I may feel
impelled in conscience to be there. This is now the third year that I have
asked and the third year that I have been refused! Besides I have a task
of very great oppressiveness in having to oppose single-handed and alone
the policy of By going to Edinburgh I take a situation which
would enable me, if disposed, to attend the Conference without being
subjected to the conduct by which I am impeded here.
"As to
-'s letter I know nothing about it, but I think it high time
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
131
な
​{
that men should be ashamed to do that which they are ashamed to read
of their having done. My wife's love to yours and believe me
"Your affectionate brother,
}
TO THE SAME.
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
London, August 1833.
"My dear Brother,-Under all circumstances I thought it most proper
to request earnestly to be sent to and I am now down for Edinburgh.
On the intelligence arriving here, the commotion was dreadful. Such a
burst of grief and concern and dissatisfaction I could not have thought
possible—much less have supposed that it could have been occasioned by
any removal of so unworthy a person as your poor brother Joseph. A
very strong remonstrance has gone but that has proved ineffectual. Two
stewards have gone, but I do not expect that they will succeed-though
I have written to say that I can no longer oppose such entreaties. I now
quite expect to go to the North. It is the most painful affair of my life.
The distress here is most affecting and to me unutterably painful. But
the treatment which I met from the last District Meeting is such that I
confess it is painful to me to remain here at present. My wife is, and
principally on account of the very great opposition that is made to my
leaving by the whole circuit and indeed the neighbourhood, grieved much
at our removal. She is full of fear and I am full of pain: but in any
issue of the case I must have been the subject of pain. In a day or two
I shall know the ultimatum.
“I am at present sitting for my picture for a gentleman in the Spital-
fields circuit who with his family has thought good to think very highly
of
"Your affectionate brother,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
P.S.-We shall of course, if Edinburgh is our lot, journey thither by
steam-boat-so that, though the remove is distant, nothing could be
more easy or agreeable. We have roses with our thorns."
The abandonment of his determination to remove from
London was too late. Events had advanced too far for this,
and with many doubts and fears and regrets, yet with much
of hope and confidence, he led his family towards the not
"inhospitable North."
132
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
1
CHAPTER VIII.
1833-1836.
DR. BEAUMONT had not now to make himself acquainted
for the first time with the people and circumstances which
surrounded him in Edinburgh. The people were old friends.
and the circumstances he was familiar with of old, except in
so far as they were varied by his present appointment being
that of Superintendent. Mention has already been made of
his affection for Edinburgh, for the place itself and for its as-
sociations and inhabitants. Sydney Smith, than whom no
man, or at least no Englishman, loved Auld Reekie better-
despite his constant bantering of Jeffrey on account of his
passion for it-calls it the place of "odious smells, barbarous
sounds, bad suppers, excellent hearts and most enlightened
understandings." And it was said with the speaker's usual
felicity, though some of the chief characteristics of the place
were of course passed by in such an observation. Dr. Beaumont
found in it many of the attractions which London possesses-
chief of cities and dearest to those who have known it. But
it presented them in a smaller compass, and though it wanted
some of the advantages of the Imperial Metropolis, it had
charms of its own, as well as its own defects.
Methodism has never lifted its head very high in Edinburgh.
Not only does it partake too little of the doctrinal spirit of
John Knox (if that phrase may be used) which has been per-
petuated in Scotland, but, at least in its primitive type, it
possessed too much of the earnestness of that divine, which
has in the northern part of the empire to a great extent been
lost in formalism, to allow it to achieve there a marked suc-
cess. The periods of Dr. Beaumont's ministry there have been
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
133
its most flourishing seasons, but the decay of Methodism
and the "northerliness" of the place impressed him on his
return quite as unfavourably as on his first arrival there, as
will be observed from the following letters to his brother
Thomas.
Edinburgh, 23rd Sept., 1833.
My dear Brother, I had a throng of public sermons and duties in
London after Conference in my own circuit and others, and did not leave
so early as I anticipated when I wrote you last. My last sermons in
Southwark were preached in that chapel on the morning and evening of
Sunday the 15th. By my remaining until then nearly the whole of
the Southwark Society was met for tickets before my departure, and I
made their quarterly collection on my last day. The congregations were
immense—at night it was awful-multitudes went away unable to get in.
On the same afternoon my family went on board the Royal Sovereign,'
a smack with delightful accommodation. It sailed at four. Immediately
on concluding my evening sermon, which was at ten minutes to eight, I
left the pulpit, whilst the collection was making, and instantly stepped into
a coach which was waiting for me at the door, and was driven to the last
calling place of the last night coach for Gravesend, and reached it exactly
at eight, as the coachman was mounting. I jumped in and was driven
by him to Gravesend (21 miles). From the coach I proceeded to the
jetty-learned that the 'Sovereign' had passed Gravesend, and was lying
at anchor in Gravesend Reach. I got a boat and immediately sailed
down the river three or four miles, found the ship bearing my family, got
safely aboard at midnight, and in two or three hours we were under way
for Leith. We had a famous wind which brought us the first half of the
way by Tuesday morning, but at eleven A.M. it died away, and we were be-
calmed until evening when with the tide we were off again, and with
various winds had a pleasant voyage which we all enjoyed, and arrived
in Leith Roads on the night of Friday. On Saturday morning we en-
tered Leith, and by nine o'clock reached our own dwelling in Edinburgh.
“The circumstances connected with my removal from Southwark per-
haps occasioned my feeling by no means lively or cheerful on entering
this city. Indeed, coming up in the coach from Leith, all seemed to me
cold, insipid and depopulated. Leith Walk and Edinburgh seemed
without human beings. But it was early, the morning was damp and I
had come from London, where the tide of human beings is flowing ever
strong and multitudinous. The house seemed in solitude, and green
damp covered the yard. The house however is larger than I supposed—
the large parlour is quite new furnished, and every way our dwelling is
as commodious and acceptable as any domicile that we have ever yet
had.
I will not trouble you with anything about the kindness that we met
with on leaving the one place, or the hearty welcome that hailed us on
our arrival at the other. On Sunday I preached twice in Edinburgh, in
134
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
the morning under,* and in the evening in the chapel. The place below
is to me very oppressive-its roof or rather ceiling is very low, and I was
a good deal exhausted. At night the chapel was something like full-
not what I call full-not Southwark full-not even as full as I have often
in days of yore seen Edinburgh chapel. Indeed my present impression
is that the cause has considerably retrograded since I was here before.
There is a coldness, a poorness, a northerliness about the people, which
I did not feel before. Leith is much worse, with forty or fifty members
less than when I lived in it. Indeed I am a good deal pained and de-
pressed to find the actual state of Methodism considerably deteriorated,
and I see no very bright prospects. However I must set to in good ear-
nest, and see what zealous preaching, holy living, constant praying and
patient suffering, with the Divine blessing, will do here. And yet I
am aware that Scotland does not present to our plough and harrow
a fertile soil. But when I think of the Divine Husbandman I cannot
despair.
“We are all well thank God, and join in love to yours and you.
Believe me
"Your affectionate Brother,
TO THE SAME.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
66
Edinburgh, 9th Nov., 1833.
My dear Brother, I have now spent a few weeks in Edinburgh, and
have had therefore some opportunity to feel the state of things, at least
in part. The prospects of Methodism seem to me more narrowed and
rigid than at my last residence here, I believe that the number of mem-
bers in Edinburgh is not much less than it was ten years ago, but they
have to my perception less life and soul, less assimilating and less ag-
gressive properties. When I say that there are not now three hundred
sittings let in the chapel, and that the door collections do not amount to
so much weekly by more than a pound as at my former ministrations
here, and that the trustees develope the most violent antipathies to each
other, you will imagine that we are at some distance from prosperity. I
cannot say that we have as yet any signs of its approach. My congre-
gations however increase, and the Kingswood collection was eighty per
cent. beyond its mark last year. These are signs, and the prayer-meet-
ings are pretty well attended, and we must hope and strive for the ad-
dition of souls. My mind, I confess, does not rise in the fullest confidence
-perhaps this is my misfortune and fault. Leith is much reduced and
very feeble, and I was going to say (judging by the sight of the eye) past
fruit bearing. The effort there has been a total failure-a gigantic sewer
* The chapel itself was at the time of Dr. Beaumont's arrival let for
the morning service, but soon afterwards the condition of the circuit was
so much improved that his congregation took exclusive possession of
their own premises.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
135
for the swallowing up of English money, and the comparative waste of
the time and labour of English preachers. My heart sickens when I
think of it. 'O Lord God, arise, help and deliver us for thine honour!'
Dalkeith too is a poor wasted remnant of its former self. Indeed every
way there is much less Methodism in Scotland than there was a few years
ago.
I have been struck too with the difference which half-a-score years
have effected in the appearance, the personal forms, of some of the dis-
tinguished ministers of the city. Dr. Gordon, who you will remember
was raven black round his fine head and expressive face, has now hair,
not grey but quite white, and his flesh has in part moved off with the
colour of his hair. He is much thinner, but not less interesting to look
on nor to listen to (as I should think, for I have not heard him.) Mr.,
now Dr., John Brown is also thinner and powdered a good deal with the
irremovable snow which proclaims him, if not advanced in years, away
from youth. But I must desist, or my sheet will be sombre indeed. I
have learned that come another ten years and, if I am not with the for-
gotten dead, I shall be an old man. Well! to be a good one is both
attainable and superlative. May this be my distinction and yours-why
not?
to
"The ministry of science wear better, and present much fewer of the
traces of the stage which they have passed not less surely than the others.
'Tis true that death has not spared the chair or the pulpit—the Duncans
and Leslie have vanished from the one, whilst Thomson and Hall have
been summoned from the other. But the duties of the one set, evidently
as well as necessarily and appropriately, sit much lighter and are vastly
less corrosive than those of the other; but how much more enduring the
fruits of the latter than the results of the former! Monro has lost nothing
of the non-sanguine, ineloquent attributes which attended his plain per-
son, and tolerably distinct but badly poised Jois and apois, so many years
ago. Alison is in manner' as you were,' but (to use an expression which
a friend of mine in Birmingham, at whose house I was last year, applied
-'s bodily appearance at that time) seems somewhat 'wizened about
the forehead.' Home I have not seen, and Barclay is not. Wilson is
pouring out eloquence in a strain of voice as much above a proper pitch
as it is above other men in thought and feeling. Chalmers is not at work
till Tuesday, but already seven hundred university students have ma-
triculated and are 'in full cry' after their alma mater, and are working away
at her various points of suction. Leslie is succeeded by Forbes, a very
young man, who has much personal interest, a capital address and much
more dignity than his predecessor. Graham is certainly older, and after
all (between ourselves) for a man to spend life in dissecting and discours-
ing of the flower of the field or the garden seems to me not an enviable
status. However he is an amiable man, and is thus in keeping with the
constitution of his chair, or rather with the theme of his class. They
(the University) expect a thousand students, that being the number last
year.
136
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
་
“As to myself, I have not yet decided on how far I shall employ and
apply the advantages now so fully and for the last time within my reach.
Money is some object with me now, as my Edinburgh salary is at least
£80 a year less than Southwark. But if it can be afforded money is
well and legitimately treated when it is given as the price of intellectual
and scientific acquisitions, and especially with a minister, as by him all
such acquisitions may be turned to better, higher and nobler account
than by another. And indeed I am not sure that I ought not to push
out to its consequences the attendance of my bygone years. At present
I am waiting the final impulses of my judgment and conscience. By
the bye I omitted to say that Hamilton is as active and fresh, as facetious
and facile, as agreeable and independent, and seemingly as young (that
is, as old) as when you sat at his board.
“On Saturday I returned from an excursion which I wrought out of a
visit to Carlisle where I preached on the 27th and 28th ultimo for the
chapel there. My worthy host lent me gig and horse, and placed by my
side their superintendent, Mr. Dunn, for my companion, and I set forth
and did not return till the end of the fourth day, by which time I had
seen Keswick, Ambleside, Ullswater, the lovely, charming lakes and
lake scenery. I saw Dr. Southey's house, and should have presented my
respects to his laureateship but my companion was averse to it, and I
lost an opportunity which will probably never again occur. I have not
room to describe these unique and fascinating regions. I had two most
propitious days out of the four. Ambleside, the gem of the tiara, unbo-
somed its charms to my delighted eye and kindling imagination on a
day which, though by the calendar at the end of October, resembled the
middle of June. I suppose I saw the dwelling places of Wordsworth,
Coleridge and others, the genií of the lakes.
"On my arrival at Keswick, the bellman had a job, and my name was
uttered aloud, and the consequence was that the little chapel was filled,
and I preached to them once and for ever. I preached at Penrith also
another night, and thus was employed about my Master's business,
whilst gazing and musing and melting amid the works of his hands. I
looked through Lowther Castle, and finally penetrated the retreat of the
Lord Chancellor, not without difficulty, but having set my heart upon it,
and being urgent I happily succeeded and was much gratified. But
my
paper denies me the pleasure of giving you any account of it or any-
thing else. Believe me
"Your affectionate Brother,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Amongst his private papers are found the following sen-
tences, which are inserted in connection with the above letter
as their sentiment harmonises with it :-
“Does not the unsatisfied craving of the mind, when surrounded with
all earthly beauty, speak of some celestial loveliness, the enjoyment of
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
137
which is necessary to the completion of its destiny? That longing after
something infinite, amid the vastness and magnificence of visible things,
whispers to the soul that it is a spirit and requires a spiritual happiness :
I therefore do not desire to be completely happy on this earth, for the
fulfilment of such a desire would be the degradation of my nature.
Eternity! eternal blessedness! be that the portion of my soul!"
TO W. B. CARTER, ESQ.
My dear Friend,
""
Edinburgh, Feb. 25th, 1834.
*
"Mrs. Beaumont and all my flock of children are, thank God, very
well, and my own health is at present better than it has been for some
weeks past-having had a season of suffering and inconvenience from
cough, hoarseness and debility. Now however through mercy I have
regained my usual state of health, which, though not firm or good by any
means, is such as to allow of my prosecuting to the full the duties and
labours of the sphere in which it has pleased our gracious God to place
me.
I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Carter's health is so indifferent. You
say rightly that such chastening is not joyous, but though grievous it is
right because it is or may be profitable—profitable to the soul, profitable
for eternity. I pray that great grace may rest upon her, that patience
may have its perfect work, that
'The fire her graces may refine
Till, moulded from above,
She bears the character divine,
The stamp of heavenly love.'
"It affords me great satisfaction to be assured of your spiritual wel-
fare. Mind that above all things, for it is your life! Oh, let us watch
a moment to secure an everlasting rest-be faithful unto death, then
shall we receive, yea inherit, the crown of life!
"I trust that I too am struggling for life-striving for life ever-
lasting, panting to live for ever. This life seems to me, and that increas-
ingly, undesirable, unsuitable for a perpetual experience. Except in
relation to the life eternal of the world to come, I feel it to be vanity and
toil. But as a probation for heaven, and a season vouchsafed to us for
trying to help on the souls of others thither, it is a blessing of immense
value—a trust of incalculable magnitude, and as such we should be truly
thankful for it, and duly and diligently improve it.
"We ministers have a very, very serious charge, but I fear are seldom
fully awake to it or adequately impressed by it. At least this is too
much the case with myself. Nor can I say much of the prosperity of the
cause in my present field of labour. In Edinburgh Methodism has not
advanced a hair's breadth since I was here before and in Leith and
Dalkeith it has declined, and that seriously. Our prayer-meetings in
138
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Edinburgh are well attended, and we have some gracious seasons, and
at times I think large drops, but we want the teeming shower. We have
too much formality, coldness and deadness, and too little brotherly kind-
ness and charity. Pray for me that I may not labour in this place in
vain, but that the word of the Lord may run here and be glorified as it
was with you.
"I trust that Nottingham will revive again. As far as I can find you
have not been prospering for the last two or three years. Your division
of the leaders' meeting may possibly be of some service, but nothing will
do without an increase of zeal and purity.
"I shall be thankful to hear from you bye and bye when opportunity
serves, and be assured that though I may not always reply immediately
to your favours they are not the less welcomed or the less valued. I
have great joy in knowing that you and yours are walking in the truth,
and the remembrance of sweet seasons of fellowship with you in years
past is grateful to my heart.
"Mrs. Beaumont's affectionate regards to yourself and with mine to
Mrs. C. May the smile of Jehovah be upon you both and your children.
Believe me
•
“Yours most affectionately,
“J. Beaumont."
TO THOMAS BEAUMONT, ESQ.
My dear Brother,—
*
*
"Edinburgh, April 11th, 1834.
"In my last I extolled the weather and its effects upon my flesh and
spirit. But the balm was soon transmuted to vinegar: since then we
have had easterly winds most prevailing and distressing. And still the
weather is harsh, inelastic, wiry, cold, raw, very, very bad for people with
any serious ailment. My old cough has been much exacerbated of late,
and it is harder and more visceral than one might wish. Indeed from
the peculiar intolerableness of the state of the atmosphere which sur-
rounds me here, I am not sorry that in forty eight hours hence I shall be
more than a hundred miles southwards. Amongst other desolations and
annoyances perpetrated by this worst estate of a climate very so-so at best
Dr. Hamilton's voice is made a perfect wreck; and after an intermission
of some days, he yesterday brought it, such as it is, to his class and, after
floundering with it through the lecture, at its close introduced a Mr. C.,
who he said had been a pupil of that class and had graduated, but
who had left the profession for one more agreeable and who, should he
(the Doctor) remain voiceless, would read the rest of the lectures. This
Mr. Coventry who sat at the right hand of the Professor within his sanc-
tum is a clergyman of the Church of England. What strange things as
well as bad ones bad weather gives rise to !
"It is well therefore that you are not sending your Mary hither just
now in a month or six weeks both the weather and the Professor may
*
•
139
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
be fairly expected to deal more kindly and attentively with her. I think
the journey to Edinburgh and a sojourn of some weeks here with the use
of Seafield Baths will do her more real service than any power even of the
worthy Doctor. By all means let her come.
"By-the-bye, on Whitsunday I have to be in London to preach for the
Southwark Chapel; no doubt this is a monstrous arrangement, but to
the request of my old, unchanged, attached friends I could not give a
denial.
“It is most refreshing to hear of the prosperity that has traversed and
is now blessing the region round about you. Here we are improving,
but not passibus æquis. We have some little increase, and last Mon
day night we had the best love-feast which I recollect to have attended
for the last thirty years. It was indeed a remarkably hallowing, pene-
trating, soul-blessing service. My soul, bless thou the Lord!
“To-morrow morning I start, preach if God permits and helps at Dur-
ham on Sunday morning; Newcastle Sunday evening; Shields Monday
evening; Monkwearmouth Missionary meeting Tuesday evening, preach
at Newcastle again on Wednesday morning, and attend the meeting in the
evening.
Your affectionate brother,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Writing to his wife from his sick bed in London whither
he had proceeded to preach the occasional sermons alluded to
above, and where he was attacked with a serious illness,
he says: "The crowding around me and shaking by the
hand and congratulations and inquiries of hundreds at the
close of Sunday's and Monday's services proved too much
for me. I should not like to go through it again unless I
had a stronger body or a stronger mind, or both. Many
persons from far and near have been up to this house to
inquire-but I am not suffered to see any."
The following letters relate to the same occasion:-
"C
3, Newington Terrace, 27th May, 1834.
"My dear Susan,-I received yours late yesterday afternoon. It was
misdirected the above is the correct address. I have gone through a
good deal of suffering since I wrote you last, in my throat. This day I
am better-much better; indeed this is the only day that I have felt
decided improvement in the mischief that had seized my tonsils. I have
just parted with the Doctor who certifies the change for the better: so
that through Divine forbearance and kindness I now consider myself
convalescent. I have not got leave yet from my medical ruler to come
by to-morrow night's packet: but he is to see me early to-morrow
morning, and to liberate or hold me still in bonds according to the
circumstances that shall be found to exist at that time. I may therefore
I
•

140.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
see you on Friday-I may not, but I have good hopes of being able to
sail to-morrow night. However if you do not see me on Friday you will
know that they will be chains that keep me. This is an unexpected
visitation of Providence-disappointing and painful to myself. I pray
that it may be sanctified, that I may profit much by that which is most
painful, inconvenient and unwelcome.
"You dwelt much upon the charms of my visit-I had always a
weight upon my spirit, and felt your allusions as those which would not
be realised. Truly we know not what a day may bring forth. May we
bring forth fruit unto holiness that our end may be everlasting life!
Give my love to Mr. Hindson and say that I fear he cannot count upon
my taking duty on Sunday next: so that he will make his plans for that
day accordingly. The half of last sheet was for him—I hope he duly
received it.
The Doctor's visit was deferred so late to-day that he has hardly left
me time to scrawl a line before the office here closes, which is at four
o'clock—and now it wants but a minute or two of that time: so that I
must close, with best love to all the dear children and kind regards to
Christie.
"I remain yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
"P.S.-The ladies here and the servants have their hands full of their
sick guest; but their affection and kindness diminish my sense of being
burdensome, and heighten my feeling of gratitude and obligation.
"Love to all friends. I see none yet.”
TO THE SAME.
'3, Newington Terrace, 27th May, 1834.
“Dear Susan,—I cannot leave for home yet. Yesterday I was better
in all respects, but my throat is still fighting hard to establish in itself a
quinsy. Last night it was leeched and poulticed, and this morning I
thought it better; but this afternoon again I have an increase of pain
and distress, and fear that it will after all be a tedious affair. The
Doctor was here this morning, and says that my skin, head, pulse are all
right, but that all disease in the throat must be subdued before I can stir
without hazard. So that now I cannot entertain any very sanguine hopes
of being able to leave before next Wednesday night. John Morren will
accompany me when I come, and I think it probable, God willing, that
it will be by Wednesday's packet. Give yourself no uneasiness, as
the whole mischief is now local, and the skilful Doctor thinks that any
worse consequences may be avoided, though the freaks which disease of
this kind sometimes plays contradict even wisdom itself. Everything is
being done for me, and with God's blessing I hope all will speedily issue
well. Fear not.
"I might say that it is particularly disappointing and inconvenient to
me to be just now away from and useless to my own circuit. But to
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
141
..
these strokes of God's righteous hand we must submit, and by them
should profit. I have had no such attack for the last sixteen years,
thank God. Give my dear love to Rebecca, Fanny, Sarah, Mary, Susan
and Joseph, with regards to Christie. Believe me
"Ever yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
Edinburgh, July 9th, 1834.
My dear Brother,—Yours has just come into my hand. Dr. Hamilton
no doubt is at home, examining in his department all about to gradu-
ate. He must be at home and will of course be there until capping
day.' I am so sure of this that I do not send my 'servant man' to
inquire-and for another reason, that I have not one to send. Nor is
it convenient at this moment to send to St. Andrew's Square my
servant woman. Be assured the Doctor is at home if he is in the
body'—and if he had left the same, why of course we should have been
acquainted with the unwelcome exit. However I shall be down in the
Square to-morrow and will call, and if I find that he has left town you
shall have another letter to say so by the next post.
"We have it in contemplation to quarter my family during my
absence at Portobello, the nearest and pleasantest sea-bathing ap-
pendage to this city, and so to shut up this house for a few weeks..
Health and recreation seem to call for such a disposition of things or
rather of persons. And if your spouse comes, I suppose Portobello will
be just the thing for her-however Susan will consult her comfort and
wishes, and we will hope that, all will be happy and prosper.
*
*
s case was com-
"The first leaders' meeting after my return,
plained against.* I suffered a long and full expression of opinion and
feeling upon the subject, and begged that they would empty themselves
upon me and upon each other and not go to other chapels and places to
disburden their minds. I declared that I had much rather they would
declare themselves there than go to any Baptist or other chapel or
school to pass resolutions, &c. Much good was done and very much evil
was prevented by my permitting a free and full conversation—instead
of plugging them all up, and driving them all to agitate in an alien
place.
"Our Missionary meetings at Edinburgh and Leith were well attended
and prosperous. Robert Newton was here and Treffry. At our district
meeting (in Glasgow) we had nothing remarkable.
upon me for representative in such a majority that I could not decline.
The votes fell
* Referring to some Conference proceedings in pœnam with regard to
one of the Wesleyan Ministers, which gave rise to much dissatisfaction
and agitation amongst the laity at this period.
142
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Nothing could be more inconvenient to me than this event-it takes me
from home much earlier and will keep me away much longer than is at
all agreeable to me, or to the good of my circuit-but I have no alter-
native and must submit. Believe me,
Yours affectionately,
TO HIS WIFE.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
City Road, London, Aug. 1st, 1834.
'My dear Susan,-I received your letter-was glad to hear from you
and to find that you had taken the preliminary steps towards making
yourself and family comfortable at Portobello, to your quarters in which
place I find by a letter from Edinburgh this day you have gone.
I hope you will be comfortable and derive much benefit from the
change. The children you must regulate as well as you can and I hope
that they will be obedient and affectionate. I am obliged to you for
your good advice as to my course of conduct in Conference, and hope
that I shall take it. We have not come as yet to the characters' and
therefore have not reached the unfortunate case of Mr.
I have
seen his worthy father who asked very affectionately after you. You
would be very welcome here—we often talk about you and I am sorry
that I can talk only. At present we have gone on comfortably in Con-
ference, but have not come to the difficult part of our work. We
have been going over the candidates for the ministry amongst us, and
they amount to the extraordinary number of ninety-two-seventy-eight
being in England, seven in your dear country and seven abroad.
"I am much pressed to attend the Missionary meeting and preach at
the Isle of Man on my way, and have half consented to do so. My
intention is if all is well, the hour Conference is over, to be off, spend a
day at Bradford-thence to Wilmslow to pay my respects to John's wife—
thence to the Isle of Man (should I finally consent)-thence home, to
you.
My uncle looks much worse, and is quite the invalid. Write to me
that I may know how you all are and how you go on. Love to all.
"I have not yet had time to call upon any friends and indeed do not
expect to find time for that purpose. God bless you and all.
Ever yours affectionately,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
(6
City Road, London, Aug. 9, 1834.
"My dear Susan,—Your kind letter I received this day, and am glad to
hear that you are well and comfortably situated at Portobello, and hope
and trust that you may all be much advantaged as well as delighted by
the change for a season from Edinburgh. And first let me tell you that
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
143
、
A
on our breaking up this day for dinner, I set off to pay my respects to
your parents. I arrived at their dwelling, and found them both well-
your mother looking very well and your father as he has done for the
last twenty years-just going out to dine at Mrs. Cowland's, to meet the
preachers from her son-in-law's at dinner. I exchanged friendly words
with both father and mother and after a few minutes they went to their
engagement and I remained with Jane and Martha until six o'clock,
when it was necessary for me to leave them, and for them to join the
party for tea at the Cowlands'. I have promised to dine with them next
Tuesday if I possibly can. I have not yet been able to call on any of
the friends in Southwark, except Mr. Shepherd. I hope to do a little in
this way, but it will be only a little.
"The Conference has proceeded slowly through the difficult business
of Mr.
-'s case: the conclusion come to by the Conference is that he
be restored to his place on condition of his giving a pledge to abstain
from similar acts in a similar spirit. Not feeling himself at liberty to
give this pledge he presented his resignation to the Conference, which
resignation has been accepted. It is a painful, serious affair. The
consequences are serious. We must strive to be patient, forgiving—oh,
that we were wise! Mr. showed himself a man of great ability, a
very interesting person. We are on this subject in a situation of great
nicety-may a gracious Providence overrule these serious matters for
general good, and bring good out of evil.
These
"The College Institution is decided upon-it is to be. It is proposed
that Entwistle be governor; Hanna theological tutor, &c.
things have taken up so much time that we are quite behindhand with
the stationing business. Last night we met to make the changes called
for and deemed expedient. The Conference seems likely to be much
longer than I had supposed or than is usual, and on this account I shall
-be a week or two longer absent than I intended. If I go by the Isle of
Man I fear that I shall scarcely get home by the 24th, and my health suffers
a good deal from the harassing, fatiguing, confining duties of my station
here. I should be very glad to be able to spend a few days at the island,
but do not know that I can do anything more than preach the public
sermons which I am pressed to give them for their Missionary Society.
"Take care of yourself and I hope your numerous flock will be pre-
served in health and comfort. If you write again immediately direct to
London-if not before Monday address to Bradford. In great haste,
"Your affectionate husband,
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
In reply to a letter from some of the office-bearers of his
circuit who took an active interest in certain matters which
were at that time debated in the Wesleyan Society, and who
had addressed him to obtain information as to the course
་
144
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
which the Conference had taken on some points, he wrote the
following letter. It shows what was his pastoral manner
towards his flock with regard to subjects of Methodistic dis-
pute.
<<
Portobello, 1st September, 1834.
My dear Sir, I was detained in England and the Isle of Man by
public duty for some time after the close of Conference, so that I did not
arrive in Edinburgh until Friday last, and on joining my family at this
place on Saturday night I found your letter and I now embrace the first
opportunity to reply to it. I beg to premise that I write merely from
recollection, as I took no notes of proceedings and was supplied with no
copy of resolutions that transpired at the Conference.*
"I have now answered, to the best of my recollection, the questions
that you have proposed to me. Perhaps this information may not prove
satisfactory to yourself and the friends with whom you are associated, but
I trust and desire, and you will permit me to add a request, that you will
not suffer any feeling of disappointment or even disapprobation which
you may experience on this account to provoke you to indulge in any
declarations or disputations tending to disturb the peace and to break
the unity of the Methodist Society of which you are office-bearers. The
minority must submit to the majority, and if the former think the latter
in error they must wait patiently till light and truth shall break in upon
those whom they suppose to be ignorant and, on the subjects in question,
out of the right way. The matters that have been and still are in
dispute, though of some importance, are so but in a lesser degree com-
pared with many things in which we are happily, and I trust shall long
continue to be agreed. Wishing that a spirit of wisdom, love and zeal
may animate and characterise us all, I remain, my dear sir, with kind
regards to all the brethren,
"Yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
"P.S.-Excuse the manner of this epistle-I have written in a
lodging surrounded by my children and pressed for time."
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
Edinburgh, Nov. 26th, 1834.
'My dear Brother,—I really think you are pushing things a little too
far: I have assigned several reasons against my coming to the Yeadon
opening, and am of opinion that my good and kind friends should have
accepted of my not unreasonable or disrespectful negative. It is always
painful to me to refuse any application and especially such a one as
that with which I am honoured in this instance. What is to be done?
* He here gives an account of certain proceedings in Conference.
•
ད
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
145
Can the opening be deferred until February? Perhaps the chapel will
not be quite ready until the commencement of that month. In January
we have the anniversary of Leith Chapel, and I believe I must yield to a
request from Glasgow to preach anniversary sermons for our chapels
there in the same month. I am strongly disinclined to go from home,
especially now, or at all to such a distance at this season.
But I suppose
I must yield or grieve and perhaps be grieved. If the matter can be de-
ferred till February, I say again that I shall be better suited.
*
*
“I am glad to hear that your family is well and proceeding prosper-
ously-let us hasten in our preparation for the world to come. As to
the connection, I cannot express my views upon its present aspect and
prospects. I have not room and I really have not heart. I do not know
that I can defend the proceedings of any part or party in the Manchester
case. It is a sad, a melancholy, a portentous, an eventful affair.
*
"Here our officers are greatly excited, and it is with much trouble and
difficulty that I have been able to prevent serious steps and vulnerable
proceedings. Last week from Manchester, came here on Friday
night and was busy calling upon several of our leaders, &c., telling them
that Dr. W. was mad, &c., &c.; that all the refractory leaders of Man-
chester were to be expelled on Monday night; that they were prepared to
lose fifty thousand members; that six preachers were to be expelled or
worked out, of whom I was one; that this was my last year of being a
Methodist preacher! &c. What next? A man comes all the way from
Manchester, is twenty-four hours in the town and finds time to call upon
those whom he thought most influential and to whom he had any sort of
access and tells them that I shall be a Methodist preacher no longer than
this year because of my views! There seem more central boards at
Manchester than one. On the same day that this gentleman was busy
here (Saturday last) we received a letter from London from a friend say-
ing that there was a rumour there that I had withdrawn from the con-
nection! So that the Manchester decree had gone as far south as it had
come north; and my attention has this day-indeed not an hour ago-
been called to the 'Christian Examiner' of last week which says that ‘I
with others am to perish!' What next?—but that must be the end of
Surely there must be something in all this. However I shall go
on my way-discharging my duty, serving and protecting Methodism to
the best of my poor ability.
I mourn continually the condition
we are in. May the Lord undertake for us-arise, help us and deliver
us for his honour!
me!
"Your affectionate brother,
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
In another letter of this time referring to the same disas-
trous condition of Methodistic affairs he says-
"The times are exceedingly troublesome just now, but neither good
1
L
7
146
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
}
+
nor evil will come to pass without some trouble. Such events, and on so
great and so articulated a scale, as are now befalling the Methodist house-
hold would not be permitted but for some very important ends.”
In the following letter to his brother Thomas he gives
an account of an alarming illness which befell the late Dr.
Newton on the occasion of a visit which he paid to Edin-
burgh :-
“Nicholson Square, 7th July, 1835.
My dear Brother,-Your letter would have been replied to sooner
had I had anything worth composing into a reply, and had I not been
too busy (or too idle) to do anything to which I was not drawn by
compulsion.
"I had no wish to be at Sheffield at the coming gathering there, and
besought the district not to send me, but necessity is laid upon me, and
I suppose I must be at Conference.
"Robert Newton was here at our Missionary meeting; he preached on
Tuesday night, and spoke at the meeting in Edinburgh last night. He
left on Thursday morning for the north, and on Tuesday night following
I was summoned to see him at his lodgings in Edinburgh where he had
just arrived from Aberdeen on his way to Glasgow and Ireland. After
leaving this he became unwell and on reaching it again he was very
unwell-seized with inflammation in the chest. He was bled on Tues-
day night and again on Wednesday morning and felt much relieved.
On that morning I parted from him for Glasgow, &c. and returned on
Friday night, when I saw him again. He was better, having been bled
again on Wednesday night and this third bleeding had made a favourable
impression. On Saturday I saw him again, and he was then under the
influence of cathartics, feeble but better. On Sunday he was pronounced
by his medical friends to be convalescent. Yesterday he rose impru-
dently and was rather worse with a quicker pulse and increased cough.
To-day he is much the same. A letter which I wrote to Manchester had
the effect of bringing Mrs. Newton and son who arrived on Saturday
afternoon. The son is returning to-day and Mrs. N. must abide by her
sick husband, who is out of immediate danger but at present a feeble
thing of nought-a reed shaken, bowed down. May the Lord in his
mercy raise him up again and bless the stroke to him and his and to all!
"I am concerned about deeply, constantly so about
We
are all too selfish-may the God of all grace clothe us with humility and
inspire us with the law of kindness. Time flies-life wears away—duties
and responsibilities deepen and multiply. Oh may the grace of God teach
us to live soberly, righteously and godly; that we may die safely, gladly
and peacefully; and so live, and live for ever, and for evermore! Our
love to your wife, whose health I hope improves, and to your child, whose
head and heart I hope mend daily.
"Your affectionate Brother,
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
147
Clouds were again gathering over Methodistic affairs and
certain questions which have been already alluded to had as-
sumed proportions and importance such that their settlement
seemed to involve the very existence of the community. The
extremest warmth and excitement were displayed on both
sides throughout the country, and personal considerations
entered so largely into these unfortunate disputes as to tinge
them with the acrimony which too generally characterises
religious controversies.
Dr. Beaumont was very thankful that his location in Scot-
land removed him to a great extent from being called upon
to interfere in these painful subjects. For it must be observed
that no man had a more entire abhorrence of all controversy
and disputations, or ever loved peace and order and privacy
more than he. He never hesitated for a moment, it is true,
at any sacrifice of personal comfort, position or ease, to oppose
whatever he felt came within his path that he disapproved
of, or to support whatever was right with which his official
position or his relation to individuals connected him-but
whenever it was possible, without a sacrifice of duty and self-
respect, to avoid taking part in public controversies he was
most anxious to do so.
His first year in Edinburgh had been one in which he had
little encouragement or fruit of his labours-little at least
according to what he had been accustomed to see resulting from
them. In the second year his efforts produced a more decided
effect in reinvigorating the decaying Wesleyanism of that city
and, but for the discords which were rending the society
throughout the country and which were fated to disturb his
own circuit notwithstanding his constant efforts to avert this
evil, all seemed promising and bright. During the Wesleyan
year
of 1834-35 he was able to avoid the vortex which involved
most parts of the kingdom and to keep his own people in a
state of peace and union, but he was compelled to attend the
Conference of 1835 and to take part in its proceedings, and
in the ensuing year the contagious excitement mastered his
endeavours to maintain union in Edinburgh. In the position
which he filled both at this time and throughout his career he
stood to a great extent aloof from either Methodistic party.
He could not give his sanction or support to all the means
148
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
adopted by either to attain their objects, but he was not on that
account inclined to withdraw it from principles which he
approved. He could not countenance the assaults which
were made against his own order, nor could he consent to
place hors du loi, by an exercise or extension of "pastoral
authority," those of his flock from whose opinions he differed
and whose expression or propagation of them he disapproved.
As might naturally be supposed such a temperate and mediate
course steadfastly pursued exposed him to many difficulties,
suspicions and attacks from on both sides, and these he bore
in a courageous and Christian spirit. As to the subjects of
dispute, some were political, some politico-Methodistic, some
politico-religious, and some purely personal.
For Dr. Warren, who took a prominent part in this strug-
gle, and for others who were involved in it he had much
respect and personal regard and his advice was frankly and
readily afforded as well as his assistance against any unfair
attacks to which they were exposed. As to the proposal to
institute a College for educating Wesleyan Ministers, from
which many of these troubles arose, he was one of those who
looked upon the scheme with disfavour, though when it was
adopted he did all he could to secure and improve its effi-
ciency. It may appear strange to those to whom Methodism
is strange that a man with Dr. Beaumont's views should
have withheld his support from an object of this nature.
But whether the right of this matter was on the one side or
the other or, as may be thought more probable, not entirely
with either party, Dr. Beaumont's judgment was founded on
views of Methodism which had much in their favour. He not
only had a strong antipathy to ecclesiasticism, as has been
already mentioned, but he was apprehensive that the peculiar
training of such an 'Institution' might damp the original
ardour, and cramp or modify the peculiar genius and power
of Methodism or distort it from its proper and primitive form.
He did not consider that Church so much as the symme-
trical embodiment of a fixed religious system, but rather as
holding the noble office of avant garde to real spiritual Christi-
anity. This office he believed had been obtained and could be
retained only by the constant exhibition of active spirituality,
aggressive against the world of darkness, and rather solicitous
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
149
to extend itself than to envelope itself in forms which might
shroud its usefulness and confine its energy even if they
should add to the dignity of its appearance. Far was he
from not appreciating the decency and order which the
Apostle inculcates and which every man of propriety extols
and desires, far from wishing to see his beloved Methodism
exhibit the antics of fanaticism or the cant of Puritanism.
But he did believe that there was a position, between the
frigidity of more ancient churches and the frantic disorder of
some modern sectaries, which Methodism was appointed to
occupy both in the providence of God and in the contemplation
of its founder. He says in a letter to his brother at this
period, referring to the establishment of a newspaper which he
had been requested to sanction by introducing it amongst his
people, but had declined-" I am more and more convinced
of the mischief and folly of engrafting a worldly, proud,
earthly, systematic, tortuous, political policy on our church
doings, intendings and plannings." He looked back and
around at Methodism past and present and he saw that,
whatever it had wanted, it had furnished to the church a
succession of the most remarkable preachers who had arisen
since the days of the great Reformation, nor had it wanted
for those who were educated and even learned and polished
scholars. It might be feared, he thought, that a Collegiate
Institution for educating Methodist preachers-putting alto-
gether out of sight the charge which was extensively made
that the plan was a piece of Jesuitry and a scheme for the
establishment of a clerical aristocracy or autocracy-would
have a tendency even under the most well considered manage-
ment to emasculate the character of the Wesleyan pulpit, and
might possibly under less favourable circumstances degenerate
into a machine for undermining the economy of Methodism.
Whether these views were right or wrong all Wesleyans
who may read these pages will already have formed an opinion,
nor will these remarks lead those who are ignorant of the
subject to any conclusion upon it. All that the writer is
concerned with is to point out what were the real grounds on
which Dr. Beaumont's opinions were based as to this matter,
which was one of prime importance to the society in which
he was a prominent minister and was the source of one of the
150
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
bitterest schisms which have occurred in its ranks. Fully
however as he believed it behoved all Methodists to consider
and weigh such serious subjects, he never would stand by
and permit the condition of affairs amongst them to be mis-
represented. Indeed no man was a stronger supporter of
"Constitutional Methodism," for he was essentially a Wes-
leyan conservative on every point which was material to
sustain its evangelical character. The following extract is
from a letter which he addressed soon after the Conference of
1835 to one of the Edinburgh papers in contradiction of
some misstatements which had been made by it as to the
Wesleyan controversy :-
"In the' Courant' of Saturday it is stated that the Methodist Conference
is composed of the clergymen of that connection, that by them all the
affairs of Methodism are managed and that no laymen are allowed to be
members. It is true that the Conference is composed entirely of the
ministers of the body, but it is most untrue to say that by them all the
affairs of Methodism are managed. Many of those affairs are directed
by meetings of the respective 'circuits,' of which lay members are by
far the most numerous, and laymen form part, and a considerable
part, of all the committees of the connection by which the financial
matters of the system are regulated. Laymen, though not members of
Conference, form an integral, essential and important part of all the
committees by which the other affairs of the society are managed.
Equally wide of the truth is it to say that in England nearly the half of that
numerous body have openly seceded from the Conference! Neither the
half nor the fourth part of the society has separated from it either on
that or any other account or on all accounts put together. There is
nothing like a general desire throughout the connection for what is called
'lay delegation.' Where the demand for this innovation upon the
original and now well-tried framework of the body does prevail, it is loud
and clamorous and imperative. But at present the society generally is
against this-very generally it is not for the infusion of this new element
into the constitution of its Conference. I speak of things as they are.
Some represent them as they would have them, and thus an injurious
impression is made and many are decoyed from a church in which they
have been called, which they have chosen and in which they have been
edified."
Edinburgh was not to remain quiescent, despite of Dr.
Beaumont's ceaseless endeavours to preserve his flock from
strife by the utmost kindness and forbearance and most
constant exercise of his personal attention and influence.
The storm of excitement and agitation in which the Me-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
151
thodist world was involved extended itself to that place. Not
satisfied with discussion and expression of opinion on the
controverted points, the "Reformers," running into that
extreme to which popular movements ever tend, mistook Dr.
Beaumont's true character egregiously and attempted to
exercise over him an influence as subversive of his proper and
independent position as they conceived some of the pro-
ceedings of the preachers were of the liberties of their people.
No man was less accessible to influences of this nature, espe-
cially when exerted by popular bodies, and those Reformers
miscalculated completely when they thought that the man
who persistently refused at the peril of his existence as a
Methodist preacher to sacrifice his independence to the views
of his brethren in Conference would square his course ac-
cording to the mandates of the popular will. He firmly,
but with the utmost conciliation and the most scrupulous
observance of what are called by Wesleyans the "constitu-
tional rights" of the laity, resisted all "unconstitutional"
attempts to destroy the influence and legitimate authority of
the clergy, which were threatened by some of the overzealous
and intemperate or, as they were called by their opponents, the
"factious" agitators.
.
Nothing could more conclusively disprove the favourite im-
putation of one section of the overzealous and intemperate actors
in Wesleyan disputes who frequently, both in his life and since
his death, have sought to disparage his ministerial character
by charging him with laxity of "Methodistic discipline,"*
than his conduct at this and at other similar periods-conduct
which proves him to have had so much respect for the discipline
of the connection that while he exercised it firmly where resort
to it was necessary he would not consent himself to transgress
the appointed limits of his "constitutional" authority. The
result in Edinburgh was however inevitable, and a schism which
he had earnestly and prayerfully striven to avoid, took place
-the separatists expressing at the time of its occurrence
* This "discipline" of course consists only in censures of the con-
nectional courts and deprivation of the connectional offices, with expulsion
from the society as a capital punishment. It will be apparent that these
are serious penalties to those who are sincere and hearty Methodists.
3
3
152
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
and ever afterwards the utmost respect and affection for their
pastor.
Notwithstanding such tributes to himself, remarkable as
under such circumstances they were, this event caused him
the bitterest grief. That flock which he had striven to gather
and preserve in peace as well as in holiness, and which he
loved with a more than pastoral affection, had in spite of all
his efforts and influence fallen a prey to these unhappy secta-
rian discords. He was always notable for his practice and
reliance upon prayer as the Christian's chief support and,
during this period of contention, his prayers were constant
that the Spirit of peace would aid him in allaying it, and his
anxieties were painfully apparent to those who were in inter-
course with him during this period. The following letter to
a much valued friend touches slightly on this subject :—
1
64
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
"Edinburgh, January 29, 1836.
My dear Friend,—I most heartily acknowledge your truly welcome
communication, and have deferred replying until now because during
this interval I have been passing through the fires of contention and en-
during the bitterness of separation, and have been so much annoyed that
though my mind has communed with yours a thousand times in com-
muning with the sentiments of your letter I have not felt as though my poor
powers were quite in tune for the peaceful employment of responding to
it.
But before proceeding further let me notice the application so kindly
and zealously urged by you in reference to Worcester. I cannot at this
moment say anything positive in relation to this interesting matter.
Such deep uncertainty overhangs the future with me that I shrink from
stating what I may be able to do in reference to it, therefore you will
kindly excuse me from giving anything like a pledge to your friends con-
cerning it, as I have great reluctance to wear the fetter of any public
engagement long.
I have been lately in Ireland, and among my audience on one occa-
sion was a man who slept in the same house with your honoured father*
the night on which he preached his first sermon! I spent one night at
Coleraine and slept in the room which he had occupied when confined
there by illness upon his last visit, and on my way to the Giant's Causeway
passed near the place where at that time a residence was preparing for him.
"Suffer me in conclusion to repeat the expression of my best thanks
* Dr. Adam Clarke.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
153
for your very acceptable letter-happy shall I be to hear from you at
any and at all times. Susan's love to you.
Believe me, my dear friend, your much obliged and very faithful
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The visit to Ireland alluded to in the above letter was one
which Dr. Beaumont often referred to, describing with intense
enjoyment and humour his adventures in travelling from
Edinburgh to Londonderry. He had engaged to preach
certain special sermons for the Wesleyans of the "maiden
city," but being delayed by some public business in Edin-
burgh the Londonderry packet, on which he had relied for his
passage across the Channel, had sailed before he arrived in
Glasgow. As he was aware that his presence was looked for
at Derry with eagerness and his absence would be the cause
of severe disappointment, he determined to cross to Port-
patrick and reach his destination by route of Donaghadee and
Belfast, to accomplish which in time for his services on Sun-
day morning was just practicable. The weather was severe
and bitterly cold, and he arrived at Portpatrick considerably
after time. The rest of the journey had to be made as best
he could arrange and almost entirely on
"6 outside cars ""
and this night journey it was which he often graphically de-
scribed, caricaturing with great zest and humour his own
eagerness and anxiety, the crass ignorance and obstinacy of
the wild Irishmen who undertook to guide him over the equally
wild country which he had to traverse, their gross ignorance of
the routes and their astonishment at that apparently intuitive
superior knowledge which an observant and practised traveller
displays of a district in which he may never before have found
himself, at his peremptory directions and at the urgent speed
which, much to the peril of their Bianconis, he compelled the
"boys" to maintain.
At one point, where he had yielded to the assumption of
knowledge which of course his driver displayed, he was carried
completely away from the proper road and at last, convinced
that Paddy had misled him, he called up from his deep slum-
bers a gatekeeper who, without being more than half awake
or taking the trouble to assure himself of the direction in
which the traveller was going, assured him that all was right.
154
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
After proceeding a little farther on the faith of this assurance,
Dr. Beaumont felt more than ever satisfied that he was going
astray. The morning had now far advanced and, as no time
was to be lost if he meant to fill his appointed place at Lon-
donderry, he made his way back to the gatehouse. After a
spirited colloquy conducted between the shivering gatekeeper,
peering from his little window into the dark and wintry
night, and the eager traveller muffled on his rickety car, the
man confessed that his former direction had been entirely
wrong, but at the same time he restively declined to make the
only reparation in his power. "Come along, man,” replied
the Doctor-" don't stand airing yourself there, put on gar-
ments enough to make yourself decent and don't be long
about it—I'm in a hurry and you must come !" And at last
the unfortunate was compelled to abandon the hope of return-
ing to his comfortable bed and to accompany the peremptory
Englishman for some miles, as far as the direct road to Derry.
Finally, after nine o'clock on the Sunday morning and after two
nights and a day passed in urgent travel, Dr. Beaumont arrived
at his destination, to the great delight and relief of his despond-
ing friends and just in time to conduct the morning service.
A circumstance occurred on the occasion of this visit which
may be noticed. Very considerable interest was excited in
and about Londonderry by the expectation of Dr. Beaumont's
services. These were attended by many of the principal per-
sons of the city and neighbourhood, entirely unconnected with
Methodism, and amongst them came the late Bishop of London-
derry, Dr. Ponsonby, whose presence afforded the unusual spec-
tacle of a prelate of the Established Church sitting in a conven-
ticle, an attentive auditor of a nonconformist preacher. Indeed
the Bishop not only had the liberality of sentiment to present
himself as an auditor but expressed himself as willing to give
to the congregation his blessing. This proposal however did not
suit Dr. Beaumont, who always conceived there was some-
thing incongruous in such divisions of ministering in Divine
service. "Tell the Bishop," said he, "that I am grateful for
the kind feeling with which he proposes this, but I think it
won't do. If he will preach I will most gladly give him the
pulpit and will listen with great pleasure to him. Then he
shall bless also; but if I preach I bless."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
155
From the Conference of 1836 he returned to Edinburgh
to take his degree in medicine, which certainly he had labo-
riously earned. In several of his letters allusion has been
made to his medical studies, which he had commenced many
years before, partly as has been seen from his intense love of
knowledge, and partly from considerations which affected his
future prospects when the state of his health made it probable
that he would have to retire from the ministry. He resumed
them on his second appointment to Edinburgh entirely from
the former of these motives, having indeed a special partiality
for natural science, and for those studies in particular.
They were pursued by him under circumstances of the greatest
disadvantage, in interstices of time and occupation which few
would have found or could have secured or turned to any
profitable purpose-a remarkable illustration surely of the
powers of intellect and of labour which he possessed. To the
care of a family and of a laborious pastoral charge, to both
of which objects he gave the most unceasing and solicitous
attention, he superadded an amount of occasional preaching
and speaking throughout the country sufficient of itself to
task the energies of an able and laborious man and, withal,
he accomplished with credit and indeed distinction what are
to many the studies and objects of a life. It is a noticeable
coincidence that the subject of the essay which he prepared
for his degree examination was that class of disease which -
ultimately proved fatal to himself-disease of the heart. This
essay met with considerable attention and was considered to
attain to a much higher standard than that which such pro-
ductions ordinarily reach. Having laboriously and honour-
ably gone through the medical curriculum at Edinburgh he
was disposed to sever his connection with that ancient uni-
versity. He was disinclined to take his degree, one so un-
usually conjoined with a reverend prefix; but ultimately
after some consideration and hesitation he determined to do
so, and it might have seemed ungraceful and affected if, after
having accomplished his collegiate course, he had declined to
accept the honourable reward, the fruit of his labours.
156
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
CHAPTER IX.
1836-1839.
Ir cannot properly be said that Dr. Beaumont was ever at
the zenith of his power and influence, unless indeed it might
be so said of his last days, for even then no symptoms of their
wane were observable-indeed his influence was constantly in-
creasing up to his decease. He was however at the period of
his return to London, on the occasion of his first appointment
to the Hinde Street circuit, in the fulness of his years. He
was recognised as a distinguished and an admirable minister
of Christ not only in the Wesleyan Connection, but amongst
Dissenters and in the Established Church, and not only
amongst the more liberal party of that Church but by those
in its communion who seldom held out their hand to or fairly
estimated the labours of the dissenting clergy. Nor was
his reputation confined to what is called "the religious world,"
nor even to those connected with undertakings of an educa-
tional or philanthropic nature, but it was extended amongst
other large classes of society who appreciated his high gifts
and his attractive character. Of course the position which he
primarily occupied was that of a preacher and public speaker,
and in this capacity the demands upon his services for aid to
almost every religious or benevolent object, great as they
had been for years, now accumulated upon him from all
quarters in a manner quite beyond what he had hitherto ex-
perienced, so that from this time he was constantly occupied
in addition to his proper and ordinary labours in discharging a
portion, and often only a small portion, of the duties in this way
which he was constantly urged to undertake. The extension
of railroad communication enabled him to effect these gratui-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
157
tous and extraordinary labours to an extent which had formerly
been impossible, and perhaps few men ever surpassed, or in-
deed ever equalled him in the amount of public service which
during the remainder of his life he undertook and performed.
It is to be remembered that a very large proportion of
Dr. Beaumont's labours were thus gratuitous and extraordi-
nary, that besides his constant services for sacred and chari-
table causes throughout the country, he had to sustain the
pastoral care of large religious societies as well as the parental
care of a large family, and that the duties which these im-
posed he was most careful effectually to discharge.*
* Re-
membering this it must appear wonderful, even as a mere
matter of physical endurance, that he should have been able
to live so long a life thus exhausting.
Perhaps it is as fitting at this point as at any other to
endeavour to give an idea of what he did. Of course, as he
had not the faculty of ubiquity, he was often a good deal away
from his circuit and his family, the cares involved in which
were ample to absorb the energies of most men. Indeed
numbers would find themselves unequal to discharging them
alone with so sedulous an attention as he devoted to them,
and many are the good, well-meaning men who make a very
small allowance of daily toils an excuse to evade the responsi-
bilities of the education and improvement of their children or
the social duties of friendship, or who allege these latter calls
as accounting for neglect of their other duties. Dr. Beau-
mont always in his most laborious years carefully watched
over his children, and no ordinary amount of domestic care
was involved in educating and providing for his large family
in the circumstances in which it was his lot to be placed. It
was his habit carefully to seize those invaluable but squan-
dered moments called "odd times" for the enjoyment of
* One who after a similarly laborious and useful life preceded Dr.
Beaumont by only a few months in arriving at his "long home," the late
Dr. Newton, belonged also to the Wesleyan Society, in which his name
will long be remembered with affection and respect. During many years of
his life the Conference gave him the services of an "assistant preacher,"
who aided him in his circuit duties. A similar assistance would have re-
lieved Dr. Beaumont from much anxiety and many toilsome journeys
for objects comparatively small, but which his proper duties compelled
him to attend to in his own place.
?
158
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
•
domestic society in everyday life.
His children were always
welcome in his study, and he would write or read with one
or two of them on his knee or climbing about his chair,
and would break off readily from his occupations to answer
their questions or join their sports or regulate their behaviour.
He was never more happy than when he could get an hour or
two in the evening to make one of the household circle or
could form one of a family group for some morning excursion.
But that was not all. He made it his business to superin-
tend the education of his daughters and sons as they grew up.
Whether at school or under the care of a governess or masters
he regularly watched their progress with the deepest interest,
suggested and directed their pursuits, aided them on their
way, rewarded their success and grieved at their failure.
In fact any one would have said that he lived merely for
his family who did not know that his devotion to them was
only an illustration-it may be the best illustration-of how
he devoted himself to all his duties. The writer well re-
members how at this time, during a period when illness
prevented his resorting to a public school and when he had
been liberated from the sway of the family governess, his
father undertook the entire care of his education and, the
res angustæ domi forbidding the engagement of a private
tutor, he gave the most untiring attention to the performance
of this duty. Never had youth a more zealous, patient or
judicious teacher. He took care during this period to regulate
his occasional engagements so as to prevent their clashing with
his parental cares and systematically devoted a considerable
time each day to his son, not only for the regular study of
books but for that instruction by the eye and the ear which is
certainly the most delightful and, within its proper scope, the
most effective mode of education and on which he placed a
high value. With this object he was accustomed to guide
his charge to the various objects of interest in London, which
he made the texts for his ever-welcome lectures. Mere book
learning, cramming, he thought of minor importance, unless
accompanied by something which should outdraw and really
educate the young ideas.
The religious instruction of his children was also very near
his heart and, during their early life in particular, he anxiously
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
159
,
endeavoured to imbue their minds with piety, and to lead
them in those holy paths in which he himself walked. But
he was not more remarkable for the sedulousness than for
the tact and delicacy with which he discharged these duties.
Early religious habits and their common observance he failed
not to inculcate, but he relied on individual influence and
sympathy as the true chord by which to reach the hearts of
the young. He feared the hypocrisy and unbelief that lie
hidden under conventional formality and he knew the timidity
and shyness which children are apt to display towards their
elders. To guard against these evils he was accustomed to
commune with his little ones entirely alone in the dusk of the
evening and the quiet of his study, so that no unfavourable
influences of an external nature might prevent the confidence
which he sought for. Indeed his great aim was to secure the
full confidence of his children, believing that the law of love
was the most perfect law and the proper source and founda-
tion of domestic influence. The following observations were
made by him on a lady for whom he had the highest esteem
and they express in some measure the views which regulated
his own paternal conduct.
"Her supreme anxiety was that her sons and daughters might be the
sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty; and yet I am not sure that
there was not a degree of reserve manifested towards her children whilst
they were young, which on subjects of religion was felt by them to
have an effect somewhat refrigeratory, if not repulsive. There was a
stateliness of demeanour which did not particularly steal upon the affec-
tions of her children in their youth. Her inclinations, it should seem,
did not lead her to take special pains to attract them towards her at
that age.
She did not fail indeed very early to impress their minds
with the fear and love of God, setting before them in a solemn manner
their condition, their danger and their duty; but perhaps she did not
cultivate so fully as is desirable that affectionate openness, freedom
and confidence in them, which (next to its communion with God) ought
to be the soul of a child's happiness. The peculiarity which led to this
course on her part would probably also explain another defect, which in
some limited degree must perhaps be attributed to her, the omitting to
instruct her daughters in the several duties of life, or specially to direct
them in their pursuit of knowledge. They were consequently kept, or at
least had the feeling that they were kept, at an undue distance from their
noble and venerated mother. This had the effect of fettering and depres-
sing their spirits; and as she allowed no worldly company, nor permitted
her children to keep any sort of society which was not strictly religious,
160
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
their improvement in social manners and duties was perhaps somewhat
impeded, and the full development of their intellectual and moral powers
in some measure retarded through the want of a more minute, ready,
hearty and constant maternal attention to their personal, intellectual and
social advancement. Their excellent mother's fear lest they should be
drawn into the vortex of worldly friendships and vain amusements, was
the occasion of nearly excluding her children for some time altogether
from society; and on this account home did not always appear so desir-
able to them as home should be felt by children, and should if possible
be made to them. There are two extremes to be avoided: the one con-
formity to the world, and the other rigid, unsocial and half-monastic se-
clusion and abstraction. It is a matter well worthy of the most serious
attention of Christian parents, to regulate by a judicious standard the
treatment of their children, and the management of their households in
this respect. There is a duty which parents owe to their children, as
well as the duty which children owe their parents, the neglect of which
must produce its own natural consequences. If children are overlooked
by their parents and their society disregarded, and every other society
preferred to theirs, if they are kept at a distance and treated with reserve
and neglect, if their intellectual faculties, their social feelings, their do-
mestic manners, their mutual duties, their training for the intercourse
and engagements of life are neglected and unheeded, mischiefs of various-
kinds, if not alienation and accusation, may be expected to follow."
Passing from his domestic character, he is to be observed in
the performance of his ordinary ministerial duties. These
imply, in the case of a Wesleyan minister, not the pulpit
ministrations to and pastorate of a single congregation but,
with the aid of two or perhaps three colleagues, the service in
this way of from ten to twenty congregations, some numbering
perhaps two thousand, others a few hundreds and others a few
scores, scattered over the area of a circuit. Of course the
pulpit labours in these circuits are severe, probably not less
than five or six sermons being required from each minister in
every week, and to this duty is added the superintendence of
class meetings and other religious assemblies as well as of the
ecclesiastical and economical system and the educational and
eleemosynary institutions of the circuit and the pastoral visita-
tion of his people. Every one of these Dr. Beaumont made
it a point to fulfil and, as of course his extraordinary duties
interfered much with their fulfilment in their regular course, to
overtake his full work frequently occasioned him the greatest
inconvenience. He was often content to find for his larger
congregations an efficient substitute, but to the smaller ones
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
161
I.
!
it was his habit to volunteer to give occasional sermons so
as to make up for his absence, feeling that as his appoint-
ments to such places were at distant intervals (their pulpits
being ordinarily served by the local or lay preachers) it
would be more felt by them than by those to whom he fre-
quently preached. Thus the smaller and more remote and
undistinguished the congregation, the more careful was he
always that they should not suffer by his absence, and it will
be recorded that the last sermon he ever preached was one
thus volunteered and delivered on a bitter January night to
a little country audience numbering a few scores. The writer
has received numerous letters from his father's colleagues at
various periods which allude to the remarkable way in which
he was accustomed to compensate his own people by "extra
work" at home for what he took from them by "extra work"
abroad. Frequently would he come great distances just in
time to gain the pulpit and keep a preaching appointment
in his circuit, often at some almost unheard-of place, returning
the next morning, or perhaps the same night, to fulfil a remote
engagement.
In discharge of his pastoral duties he was most zealous.
The Wesleyan system of the itinerant ministry has the effect
no doubt of subordinating these functions of the clergy to
their public ministrations, and Dr. Beaumont's nomadic
habits of course made it peculiarly difficult for him to effect
all in this respect which he felt desirable. But, though that
systematic visitation which takes the form with the "better
classes" of morning calls and with the "lower classes” of a
sort of sanitary and moral police was not within his power,
he accomplished much in the way of friendly and pastoral
intercourse both with poor and rich, far more than might
have been thought practicable consistently with his multifa-
rious engagements. To any special call he was ever acces-
sible, and no amount of fatigue or occupation would prevent
his hastening to the bedside of those who were stricken and
afflicted and to whom his presence might be serviceable or
grateful.
•
In another feature of the ministerial character he was
most exemplary. Small as were his private resources and
income which he derived from his profession it is surprising
M
1
•
་
"
162
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
how he was able to do what he did in the way of pecu-
niary succour to the poor. It was part of his creed that,
though great charitable associations were necessary to col-
lect the gifts of the many, they were a mere apology for
individual benevolence, and while he was ever their ready
supporter not only by his public efforts but by his personal
aid, he considered it his privilege and duty himself to relieve
the temporal wants of his fellow-men wherever he could.
All this was done in so entirely quiet and unostentatious a
manner that even his family, who knew somewhat of his
"cheerful" giving, were astonished after his death at find-
ing from some occasional memoranda the extent to which it
had been carried.
So far his regular official duty extended, but in addition to
this came the vast amount of labour which he spontaneously
undertook from love to God and the desire to advance His
glory and the happiness of his own fellow-men. It has already
been remarked that, though of course the greater amount of
this occasional labour was devoted to objects connected with
the Wesleyan Church, it was frequently undertaken for re-
ligious, charitable, educational or literary objects quite un-
connected with that community or independent of any
religious body. It would certainly not be exaggerating his
labours as a whole if it were recorded that, for the last twenty
years of his life at all events, he addressed some public
audience either from the pulpit or the platform, and latterly
(since the extension of literary institutions in various locali-
ties as handmaids to religion) as a lecturer, not less than nine
or ten times in every week. Occasionally he would secure a
week of comparative repose spent in his own town in which
perhaps two or, very rarely, three days might be marked by no
appearance in public. But there would be the double service
on the Sabbath; frequently a third sermon on behalf of some
local charity would occupy the Sunday afternoon; there
would be three or four week-night services in the ordinary
course of circuit duty; one or two evenings would probably
be marked by sermons or speeches in the cause of some non-
Wesleyan or non-sectarian charity within his own district,
and many a time would he pass from one meeting to another,
or from the pulpit to the platform, or find himself discharging
3
-
1
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
163
some public duty both in the morning and the evening. Such
would be a week of rest.
But then came his more ordinary weeks, when his time was
divided between various parts of the country. Often, after
preaching twice or three times on the Sunday and spending
his evening with his family as happily and easily as if it had
been his holiday—pleasantly leading the conversation, in which
he had the rare faculty of combining seriousness and ear-
nestness with a graceful and humorous ease, conducting the
worship of the family, and revelling in some of the beautiful
chants and hymn tunes in which our musical literature is so
rich, or in the grander strains of Handel or the tender sacred
melodies of Mozart-often would he, after sitting till past
midnight thus occupied, dismiss his family and continue
(if the exigencies of his route required an early departure)
till morning writing or making necessary arrangements for
his week's journey. He would probably not preach till the
evening of Monday, but then each day he would advance from
place to place, sometimes sixty or a hundred miles apart, and
would commonly preach or speak twice (and not unfrequently
three times) on the days of his absence from home. It was an
ordinary occurrence for him to preach at two different places
on the same day, passing from the railway station to the pul-
pit and from the pulpit to the railway station, and sometimes
he would again, after preaching in the evening, renew his
journey in order to reach some distant town by the next
morning. It was his more usual habit to conclude his week's
engagements on the Friday, and on the Saturday he would
either return home or, when he had planned a longer tour,
would reach the place of his Sunday labours again to com-
mence a week of toil.
Sometimes such a week as has been described would be
varied by visiting home either to perform some circuit duty
or just to spend a few hours at his own hearth; and he
frequently arranged his work so that his foreign labour should
enable him to fulfil his ordinary duties, without being much
lightened in itself. He would in this way make four or five
engagements, for morning or evening as might suit his "cir-
cuit" appointments, at distances which would allow of this, and
would each day and night run backwards and forwards, out and
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
home, without seeming to think anything of doing so, and would
join his family for a fragment of an afternoon or evening, as if
he had merely released himself from his studies or was passing
a quiet hour between the periods of a vacant day. "I have
often been astonished," writes one of his colleagues of him," at
his prodigious powers of exertion. Although his energies were
always in a state of high pressure, he never seemed without a
reserve of strength. He returned from the most exciting and,
to common men, exhausting public services at a distance, not
to rest but to toil with unabated ardour. I have known him
after travelling from a very early hour reach London at seven
in the evening, walk from Euston. Station to his home and, just
leaving his carpet bag, with scarcely a moment's delay and with-
out the slightest refreshment, hasten away to some distant
street, court or alley to visit the sick."
new.
It will be apparent that labours of this nature and to this
extent did not permit, as indeed they did not demand, a pro-
portionate amount of study; for of course sermons and speeches
delivered in various parts of the country for occasional pur-
poses of a cognate character were not required to be all
Yet perhaps few ever preached and spoke with so little
repetition. He had a great dread of committing himself
by preaching a sermon a second time to one audience;
he was a very prolific writer, at all times a careful student
and a constant thinker, and perhaps in his busiest days he
wrote more sermons than most men would consider suffi-
cient to occupy them entirely. It is unnecessary to say
that his preaching was ex tempore, in the sense in which
that phrase is used with regard to preaching. He ordi-
narily sketched his sermons more or less fully, elaborating
here and there certain parts; but sometimes, when the sub-
ject or its treatment was unusual, or when the sermon was
intended to be preached repeatedly on occasions of a similar
nature, he completed it for delivery, though frequently he
would be so pressed for time that its last lines would be
still wet as he left his study to preach it. In such cases
he would make more or less use of his written notes in
the pulpit, though he always felt himself trammelled by this
necessity.
In the Hinde Street circuit he was associated with the late
市
​LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
165
Mr. Atherton and Mr. Beal. With Mr. Atherton it was his
good fortune to be stationed on a subsequent occasion, and
he highly respected the vigorous, masculine powers of that
remarkable man, who had the greatest admiration for the
character and talents of his younger colleague. Indeed, dif-
ferent as were the men-apparently perhaps opposite-they
had much in common in the vigour, earnestness and in-
dependence of their minds, as well as in many of their
views. Between Mr. Beal and himself a warm friendship and
confidence subsisted up to his death, and between the three
colleagues there was for the whole period of their association
the most complete and friendly harmony and the most
zealous co-operation; and the circuit, which is one of the
most important in the Wesleyan community, was during
these years the scene of a remarkable and increasing pros-
perity.
A very natural idea had extended itself about the time of
Dr. Beaumont's return to London in 1836, that the degree
which the Edinburgh University had just conferred upon
him was one in divinity, and this idea to some extent always
continued to exist. Some of his most intimate friends en-
tertained this supposition, to which the following letter to
one of them adverts-indeed so little publicity did he give
to his intention of taking his degree, that his own family
were not aware of it up to the morning of the ceremony
with which it is the custom in Edinburgh to confer that
honour:
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
"London, 7th October, 1836.
"My dear Mrs. Rowley,-First of all let me set you right as to what
has happened to me. I am not D.D. as you suppose-no Methodist
minister has ever been so endowed by any British university. When
these letters associate with our names America is the fountain of honour,
In short my D. is nothing but an M.D. and testifies nothing but as to the
course and result of the general aud particular education of the person
who bears it. But a truce to such trifles.
"I have only just returned from Lincolnshire, and my public work on
Sabbath next is to preach in the morning at St. George's, and in the
evening at Hinde Street. On Wednesday I have the prospect of being
unmolested for the most part, and we shall be happy to have your com-
pany on that day to dinner. I am obliged by your admonition on a sub-
·
1
166 -
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
ject of some importance, and the kindness on your part in administering
it is I believe not less than the necessity on mine to receive it.
"I am, dear Mrs. Rowley,
"Yours very sincerely,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The following is to the same friend and alludes to the death
of her mother, the widow of Dr. Adam Clarke :-
"19th January, 1837.
"Dear Mrs. Rowley,-I am much obliged by your affectionate remem-
brance of me in the midst of new griefs and sorrows which have over-
taken yourself.
I must be to blame that I did not make an opportunity to see her
that is away. But, knowing the retired and secluded life which she was
leading as most congenial to her feelings, and having nothing special
with which to intrude upon her privacy, and waiting for some occasion on
which to present myself-thus and thus time passed, an interview was not
enjoyed, and so has been furnished I fear another exemplification of the
words, 'Death hath swifter wings than love.'
"I heard not of your mother's death till some time after the event-
and of her interment I have heard nothing-though when I received the
scarf I was assured that it was past. I knew not where you were or how
long or short was to be your stay, and now for more than a week I have
been laid aside with an attack of influenza. At present I am convales-
cent but wholly confined, nor have I the prospect of being able to cross
the door for some days to come. My doctor has just been here and as-
sures me that if I stir for some time yet I shall have a relapse. In this
state of things I cannot entertain the least hope of having the pleasure
of seeing you this week, and should you return without our meeting I
shall regret it.
"I do most sincerely condole with you on the bereavement with which
you are visited. You do well to remind yourselves of the mortality by
which we are o'ershadowed. Let us prepare habitually that our ‘mor-
tality may be swallowed up of life!' God bless you and guide you all
your days.
"Yours very affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
As an illustration of how willing he was to do his utmost
to promote the welfare of all undertakings of a public nature
which he thought well-intentioned and capable of being ap-
plied to beneficial purposes, even when he had doubts of his
own about their scheme and success, it may be mentioned
that during this period in London, while the Wesleyan
Theological Institution to which reference has been made
1
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
167
was in its infancy, he took great interest in its progress
and the system of education adopted there, and officiated
as one of the examiners of the students, trusting to find
every unfavourable misgiving which had been entertained
as to the plan and results of that institution removed.
He was often applied to by persons of his acquaintance,
and not unfrequently by those who were unknown to him,
for advice and aid on various matters, sometimes public
and frequently entirely private, relating to religion, morals,
education, science, and even to what was purely personal
or political. These applications came from all quarters of
the globe, and many pages might be filled with instances
of them and of the mode in which he met them. The fol-
lowing extracts however from a letter addressed to a lady
with whom he had a slight acquaintance and who had sought
his advice about the education of her son will suffice as an
example of the manner in which he attended to such com-
munications. In this letter, after the remarks which are
here extracted, he proceeds to give in detail his own views
as to the means of intellectual and moral training best suited
to the particular case.
“I have much pleasure in complying with your desire—but find it
almost impossible to recall the substance of some desultory and unpre-
meditated remarks which may have fallen from me at my last visit
to Seafield. Those remarks were called forth by certain observations
made by my friends and, without these, it becomes difficult to supply
what was advanced in return. In committing to paper therefore senti-
ments on the subject which elicited the observations referred to I cannot
pledge myself that they will contain either in thought or language what
was then expressed. The point under consideration was the manage-
ment of a youth who gives unequivocal evidences of mental capacity, and
is zealous in acquiring all the knowledge within his reach, one who seems,
even after allowing for the partiality of a fond parent, full of promise.
It must be allowed that education is in every case of great moment, and
that the education of such a youth becomes especially interesting and
imposes the necessity of the greatest caution and prudence. By educa-
tion I understand that series of means by which the human understanding
is gradually enlightened, and the dispositions of the human heart are
formed and called forth, adjusted and corrected between childhood and
the period when we consider ourselves mature, qualified to take a part in
active life, and when, ceasing to direct our attention solely or habitually
to the acquisition of new knowledge or the formation of new ideas, we
are content to act upon the basis and principles to which we have already
►
168
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
•
}
attained. It comprehends of course the circumstances of the child in
regard to local and social situation, the manner in which the necessaries
and conveniences of life are supplied, the example set by parents, pre-
ceptors and companions, the degree of restraint or liberty to which he is
accustomed, the various bodily exercises, languages, arts and sciences
which are learned or practised by him, and above all the moral and re-
ligious principles which are instilled into his mind.
"With the generality of youth, every proper means is to be employed
to drive forward-with some however it is happily otherwise. I shall
not attempt to say anything on the management of such distinguished
children, in general, but in a few words will mention my opinion on the
case of your own interesting boy. Much depends on the order in which
studies are brought forward to occupy and engage the attention of the
young mind. In your son, there is evidently to be found a great apti-
tude to learn, and a pleasing thirst for knowledge, a quickness of per-
ception and a retentiveness of memory. Where these exist, the danger
perhaps most to be avoided is lest the tone and vigour of the health and
constitution of the body, and indeed of the mind itself also, be weakened,
diseased and possibly even overthrown by the activity and ardour and
premature accumulations and labours of the faculties. For it is certain
that a child may be too manly not only for the proper enjoyment and
application of the present, but also, and in truth consequently, for his
future progress and usefulness. It is obvious that while the moral powers
of the soul are all awfully degraded by the great apostacy, its natural
powers do not seem to have been very much deteriorated, at least in so
far as we can judge. The body is however, on this side the resurrection,
in all conditions' a vile body'—and in consequence is not now a very
companion for the soul. Thus the reason why we cannot surrender our-
selves to the full, the mighty tide of thought and feeling adequate to
those vast subjects which religion and revelation supply is that we can-
not bear the body with us into all the lengths and breadths and depths
whither the soul goes bounding and exploring. We are tied to a sordid
and sluggish partner, fastened to a log which obstructs and impedes our
The body fades and is exhausted by the very buddings and
dawnings of thought; and before the fruit is fully ripened and hangs
upon the branches, there comes the withering blast of death and
course.*
fit
*These sentences will call to the mind of many readers the beautiful
fable of the Soul uttered by Socrates in the Phædrus-the charioteer and
his two horses, "one of which is nobler in nature, has its form erect, is
finely moulded, high necked, with full nostrils, white coloured, black
eyed, a lover of honour, of temperance and modesty, a companion of
true glory, governed without the whip by command and voice alone.
The other is crooked, ill shaped, clumsily put together, strong necked,
short throated, flat faced, black coloured, gray eyed, hot blooded, a com-
panion of insolence and swaggering, shaggy eared, deaf, and scarcely
obedient to whip and spur together.”
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
169
all is at an end. There are many examples of youths of delightful
promise meeting with an early departure hence whose bodies, suf-
fering by sympathy with the ill proportioned and uninterrupted exer-
tions of their minds have fallen victims to this infirmity and have
become early wrecks. Your son may be healthy, but his frame is
delicate, and therefore with his fine and vigorous mind, it would be safer
to restrain his pursuits within prescribed bounds—at least for a season.
Writing I think especially should now occupy his attention. Exercise
and amusement he should be allowed plenty of; but he should never be
urged to exercise beyond his desire, for this course would only result in
making him inert and inactive.”
The published works which Dr. Beaumont gave to the
world were mostly of small importance, and of a character
occasional. In the year 1838 appeared his principal literary
effort, a biographical memoir of Mrs. Tatham of Notting-
ham, a lady who had been one of his "charge" and for
whose distinguished Christian character he entertained a
very warm admiration, and between whose family and him-
self a friendly intimacy subsisted. This Christian lady was
notable for her ardent and elevated piety and devotion to
the cause of God, and in her memoirs her friend displayed
his accurate and delicate appreciation of character by the
judicious mode in which he treated his subject, as an intro-
duction to whose life he treats generally of distinguished
women. A few extracts are here subjoined from the many
comments which this volume contains on the religious views
and feelings of Mrs. Tatham. After alluding to the incon-
sistent theories of the origin and nature of temptation, he
says:
"Even when temptation is attended with a happy issue, it is in Scrip-
ture allowed to be of a perilous, alarming, distressing nature. It kindles
in the Christian the conflict between the flesh and spirit; frequently
distracts the mind by perplexing difficulties, by promptings of despair,
by melancholy apprehension of danger, of calamities heavy, sudden, re-
peated, and apparently endless-perhaps by several, perhaps by many or
all of these evils at once.
"It is not meant by these remarks to insinuate that the most dan-
gerous temptations are confined to those which imply trouble of mind.
There is, no doubt, unspeakable anguish in gloomy suggestions against
the truth of the Gospel or our interest in its blessings, the very being of
God, or providence, or heaven; in blasphemous thoughts, which distract
devotion and meditation and every source of comfort, which banish us
from society, while they haunt our solitude and make man a terror to
+
་
170
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
himself; in the outrageous violence of contending passions, provoked
equally by restraint and indulgence, always enlarging and never satisfied,
impetuously hurrying us away, and driving us on, regardless of the risk
even of eternal perdition. We may be, however, in more real danger
when the mind is tranquil and lively, when the tempter's malice is more
artfully concealed, when suggestions arise which are the opposite of
alarm and distress, and when complaisance carries us so smoothly down
the stream that we may have gone far ere we are aware of it. Thus the
wicked are 'led captive by the devil at his will.'"
Alluding to some strictures which Mrs. Tatham made upon
doctrinal deficiencies of the Methodist preachers and people,
he writes:-
"C
But, both upon the practice of the preachers and the experience of
its people, the writer is of opinion that these strictures are too severe, and
call for some limitation. On the great subject of Christian holiness
undoubtedly the first preachers of Mr. Wesley's communion gave to the
trumpet of their evangelical message a certain sound which waxed loud
and solemn, and fell with irresistible force upon the ear of the listening
multitudes gathered by its tones, producing in many a change like life
from the dead. Preachers of a later day, however, who have much
oftener to address their flocks and who are their sole pastors, have to take
a wider range of instruction and to bring forward the minute and what
may be called the interstitial portions of the great body of heaven-
revealed truth as well as its primary, cardinal and fundamental parts."
Mrs. Tatham had in a passage of her diary inserted in the
Memoirs, found fault with one of Dr. Beaumont's own sermons
as being vague and unsatisfactory in its explanations of the
Providence of God. On this he remarks,-
"The doctrine of a superintending Providence, indeed, cannot con-
sistently be questioned by any one who is convinced that there is a God,
and that the universe is His creation. That this providence is not
general only, but particular, that it is (to use Mrs. Tatham's phrase—a
phrase which the writer thinks preferable to either of the former taken
singly, or to both of them together) universal, comprehending under
its direction all events of every kind, of every degree of importance and
in all their endless variety of circumstances, is not only occasionally
asserted but is every where assumed as a fixed principle in the holy
Scriptures; and this view of the matter perfectly accords with the
dictates of enlightened reason. The difficulties attendant upon the
doctrine of Providence have their origin chiefly, in the proneness of our
minds to imagine the Almighty to be such an one as ourselves; we are in
imminent danger of forgetting that infinite power, infinite presence and
infinite knowledge are not to be measured by the low standard of our
conceptions.
1
-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
171
"It has been justly said that the idea of a present Deity, pervading the
universe, sustaining the whole system by an unintermitting energy,
guiding the movements of every part according to regular laws, and
exercising a constant although secret and imperceptible control over
the circumstances and actions of all creatures in which is the breath of
life, rational and irrational, seems on the whole to be far more con-
sonant than any other to the dictates of sound philosophy, as well as to
the general tenor and express declaration of the holy Scriptures."
The following sentences illustrate his suspicion and dislike
of the offensive extremes to which religious or pseudo-religious
feelings have led badly constituted and weak minds:
"That fierce impetuous zeal which sometimes makes a blustering noise
about the conversion and salvation of perishing sinners, but which is
blind and inconsiderate, rushing wildly forward with arrogant boldness
and snatching greedily at every plausible appearance, as giving demon-
strative proof of the great change being undoubtedly effected, was not
that which Mrs. Tatham countenanced. The unseemly appearances,
pernicious effects of this foolish, ill regulated, intemperate zeal she
regretted as too much resembling the destructive swellings of a disor-
derly torrent."
One other extract will be made because it expresses a cha-
racteristic feeling of its writer's own heart, his tender,
genuine love of flowers-a particular development of his
universal love of beauty which displayed itself prominently at
Kingswood in his early boyhood, and which remained with
him a constant sentiment to his latest days.
"The reader has already learnt that she was a great observer and ad-
mirer of nature: vegetable life, growth and beauty, supplied her intellect
and her heart with a tranquil and delightful source of improvement. She
was a lover of flowers (and who is not?)-of those gentle, beauteous
children of the sunshine and the shower-those sweet gifts fresh from the
hand of the Deity, rendering more beautiful the face of a world already
rich with His bounty. How many fine and pious and grateful feelings
is their presence calculated to call up in the meditative mind! Flowers
may be said to be the poetry of nature, emblems of purity, grace and
beauty, the free-will offerings of Him whose benignity adorns the earth
with loveliness. They are associated with the song of the birds, with
trees and streams, and everything fair and symmetrical in nature. They
are links in the mysterious chain, binding by delicate ties the heart of
man to
'The good God, who loves and cares for all.'
"The ancient Greeks were passionate admirers of flowers; their love
for them was boundless, as in them they found the most delicate and
172
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
varied forms of beauty. They scattered them in the porticoes of their
temples, they strewed them in the conqueror's path, and on all occasions
of rejoicing they were profuse in their use of them. In Scripture, flowers
are everywhere to be met with, quoted as incentives to faith, love and
duty. The Song of Solomon is full of passages alluding to them. 'Lo,
the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the voice of the turtle is
heard in our land; the time of the singing of birds and of the springing
of flowers is come. Let no flower of the spring pass by us; let us crown
ourselves with rosebuds before they are withered'! Our blessed Saviour
himself did not disdain to use them as emblematic of the entire depend-
ance of man on the goodness of God. 'And why take ye thought for
raiment? Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin
not; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon, in all his glory, was not
arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which to-day
is and to-morrow is cast in the oven: how much more will he clothe you,
O ye of little faith?' Even simple wild flowers call up thoughts of high
import to man; but viewed in their true sense, as emanations of a love
that never fadeth, as sent to minister to the pleasure of man, to gladden
his abode, and make his heart joyous, how dear they may well be to us
for the sake of Him who bestowed them! And when we look on their
beauty and wonder, let us think of His creative power, and of the protect-
ing care which He bestows on the humblest of His creatures!
'Thou art, O God! the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see ;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee!
Where'er we turn thy glories shine,
For all things fair and bright are Thine!
On the revival of the anti-slavery agitation, which resulted
in the entire abolition in 1838 of the negro apprenticeship
system, Dr. Beaumont took part in supporting that measure.
He no doubt did this with some hesitation and misgivings,
as the case was not without its difficulties, and though the
course which the slaveholders had taken of frustrating as far
as possible the effective operation of the Emancipation Act
seemed to deprive them of all title to be considered in the
matter, the prophecies which were made of the evils which
might flow to the negroes themselves from so sudden an
abandonment of the settlement of 1833 had sufficient of
probability to render the act of 1838 a somewhat critical ex-
periment. At the same time the Doctor's position was such
that he could not well keep aloof from the controversy and,
while it was very hard to foresee with any measure of cer-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
173
tainty the results of the measure in practice either for good
or evil, its propriety so clearly flowed in theory from those
great, eternal principles which had already won the Emanci-
pation Act, it was in itself so just and right, and the slave-
holders had in many cases so unfairly exercised the rights
which had been left to them, that he could not on this diffi-
cult question avoid supporting the immediate abandonment of
the apprenticeship.
It is indeed a very difficult thing for a public man to steer
his course in cases such as this. Individual action is little worth
and, whether it be in parties, or in sects, or in communities,
something must be given up to effect a common object, just as
in the ever-introduced illustration of the true nature of society,
by which on the one hand we are deprived of a measure of
personal liberty, but on the other we gain the inestimable ad-
vantage of civilization, protection and, in the result, the utmost
amount of liberty. Of course in religious life it is especially
the case that a public man cannot act alone, not in the sense
which frequently puts cannot for dare not, but really and ho-
nestly cannot, because by doing so he would infallibly “to do
a little right do a great wrong," and squander his influence
for good for the sake of some minor and perhaps hypercritical
consideration. Nevertheless the occasions which arise for
modifying individual views in associated action are to a zea-
lous and conscientious man, trying, difficult and delicate.
A mere student, a thinker or writer scarcely feels such em-
barrassments-his influence is exerted individually and from
behind a screen which secures him very much from external
pressure. But a man of active labours-living in the world,
working openly, face to face with mankind-must frequently,
if his mind is at all eclectic in its character, find himself in a
delicate position, called upon to be silent when he would
speak, or even to speak when he would fain be silent, or
to utter loud and dogmatic sayings when he would rather
mutter meditations or whisper suggestions. Dr. Beaumont's
mind was of this eclectic character and consequently he
occasionally acted with less eagerness on certain subjects of
public concern than was the case with others whose - prin-
ciples and views be in the main concurred with, and now
and then took but a small and hesitating part in "associa-
174
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
tions" (in which the whole motive power of the social system
seems in these latter days to be concentrating itself), as to
the objects or schemes of which he entertained doubts or
reserve and yet to which he could not on general principles
be indifferent and from which he could not withhold his
sympathy.
The two following letters refer to the illness and death in
his early boyhood of a promising son of the friend to whom
they were addressed-a child to whom might be applied
Dr. Beaumont's own words used on a similar occasion, "The
bud was large, the blossom was beautiful and lovely but the
fruit was not permitted here to be matured.
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
'66, Albany Street, 3d January 1839.
My dear Friend,-Well, again and again I have felt that I would,
that I should, that I should like to write to you; but from the dim and
indistinct notion that I had and the anxiety that I felt about your per-
sonal condition and circumstances, I paused, sent my mind outwards and
onwards, and I trust upwards, and waited and waited, until your welcome
letter (though unwelcome in some of its tidings) has set my hand a trac-
ing these lines, though it is not yet five minutes since it was in the hands
of the postman. I knew nothing of what had befallen you by railroad
until long after the occurrence, when your son who one day favoured us
with a call gave information of the untoward event that had occurred,
but not until I saw Mr. Rowley at Birmingham was I made aware of the
severity of the shock which you had sustained, or of the extent of the
consequences superinduced by it. I am now thankful to see that at any
rate you think and feel and reason and write at least as if nothing were
the matter with you, as if you were altogether yourself and, though late,
you now have my hearty congratulations on your recovery.
“Your account of Reginald admits scarcely of a ray of hope respecting
him, suffering so decidedly as he does from that insidious, serious, fatal
malady which has invaded his beauteous frame. The treatment which
you describe was proper-however art is powerless in grappling with
this affecting malady. The vis medicatrix naturæ no doubt is often
effective where art is feeble, and God's will or the Divine fiat can turn
the shadow of death into the morning. May it be so in this instance,
and may your mind be divinely strengthened and consoled in the waters
of affliction, in the fires of adversity.
"As to the movement of the society to which you have referred,* you
may take too abstract and philosophical and ascetic a view of the affair;
Alluding to some questions of a Methodistic and controversial cha-
racter.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
175
but we are no doubt in danger of making too much of our 'wonderful
machinery' and 'admirable economy,' and are rather given to boast of the
'constitution of Methodism,' till the spirit of it is endangered. For my
own part I had infinitely rather Methodism were like Samson when tear-
ing up the gates of the city of Gath, than like him when his locks were
shorn off in the lap of Dalilah. My hope is in God, who I trust has a
favour towards us as a people, and will overrule events for the ultimate
welfare of our Zion, and whom I pray to forgive what is erroneous and
vain.
66
"Whether I am too old or not, I am certainly too happy and have I
hope too much proper pride to part with my independence. And what
could I get for it? This Connection has nothing valuable to give me which
I do not already possess, and of which I cannot be deprived whilst my
faculties, my health, and the grace of God cohere in my humble person.
Having previously declined several invitations, I finally accepted one
in September last to Liverpool South. About a month ago I was waited
upon by the circuit stewards of the second London circuit (Queen Street)
to request me to consent to their proposing me for superintendent of that
circuit, as such was its wish and desire. I could only tell them that they
were too late. But I do not regret nor would I retrace the step which I
have taken. Queen Street said it was not its practice to invite till the
Christmas quarter-day-my answer was that it was my practice to accept
at September. I trust all will be well, and feel a great hope that my
happiness as well as my usefulness will be promoted by a Liverpool ap-
pointment, at least by such an one as I have accepted.
"Your letter was directed with perfect intelligibleness and absolute
correctness to me at Newport and, some time after my return home, it
came to me, written over in red ink 'Missent to Machynleth,' certainly
a miss, but no fault of yours. My love to Mr. Rowley and to your son,
and trusting to hear soon of the issue of the sickness which I deplore,
I remain, your affectionate friend,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
'So 'Reginald has entered the paradise of God.' In that affirmation
of yours is contained the only store of consolatory thoughts compatible
with and supplied in such a bereavement, at least in my opinion. For
somehow, I feel a shrinking from the admission of the sentiment that if
our improvement is forwarded by the death of another, and especially of
one so near and dear as a chiid, the bereavement is vindicated to our
feelings or to the intellect. But when death is life-life eternal-and
ministers to our fitness for so vast a consummation, there is I think room
and aliment for such thoughts as those which you now need and in your
letter desiderate. I am not surprised at the event-and inasmuch as
such an one has not yet befallen myself I am but imperfectly qualified
to deal with it in communing with another. Unquestionably however
[
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
176
+
we should seek improvement from so sacred and searching a providence;
'Lord, let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it,' is perhaps at
this season a suitable scripture for private meditation as well as public,
instruction, and I know of no more convincing comment upon it than is
supplied by trials such as those through which you are now passing.
Happy, happy indeed if as our roots are loosened from earth they are
firmly fixed in heaven!
“I need not remind you that no child of God escapes the rod
(Heb. vi. 12.) If we look at Moses, at Abraham, at Job, at David, at
Daniel, at the Apostles, and at all the first Christians, we see that the
page which unfolds their history is but the record of their afflictions.
Affliction is the consecrated path that conducts to heaven; and it is
through much tribulation that we are to enter the kingdom.'
66
Beyond controversy some of the dispensations of Divine Providence
are exceedingly painful and mysterious. They deprive us of property,
of health, and of the desire of our eyes, with a stroke. They make our
hearts desolate, and render our house the house of mourning. But when
sanctified, they are often the means of more than ordinary communion
with God—that appropriate and only perfect bliss of our nature. We see
His hand guiding and inflicting them; we hear His voice speaking to us
by them; we feel His influence accompanying them, and we say, ‘It is
the Lord, let Him do what seemeth good in His sight.' And when we
thus have fellowship with God, the merciful design of affliction (as far as
we are concerned) is answered. For, as Absalom set Joab's field on fire
in order to gain an interview with him, so God often sends some fiery
trial to us, for the very purpose of bringing us nearer to Himself, that we
may have fellowship one with another; and, though the furnace through
which we have to pass be seven times heated, yet one like the Son of man
is always there, and there we have fellowship with Him through His
sufferings. Blessed Jesus! thou hast been a man of sorrows; thou art
touched with the feeling of all our infirmities; every string that trembles
in our bosom, produces a vibration in thine own; and thou art nigh
unto them that are of a broken heart, and savest such as are of a contrite
spirit!
Walter I trust will be spared to you, and I incline to think that he
will. It has been with great difficulty that I have been able to snatch a
few minutes before post time to express to you how much I sympathise
with you in this affliction. May you and yours be comforted and
strengthened of the mighty God!
“Yours,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The years 1839 and 1840 were distinguished in the history
of Methodism by the noble offertory, amounting to nearly a
quarter of a million, which was devoted to various Wesleyan
institutions, and which was collected in commemoration of
the Centenary of that community. No man felt more than
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
177
1
did Dr. Beaumont the interest attaching to this occasion, nor
did any man more effectively aid its progress by the many
powerful appeals which he made and the sympathy which he
manifested in its favour. The Conference of 1839 was held
in Liverpool, to which place he was himself appointed to travel,
and the following letter was written to his wife while he was
attending that assembly. Some allusions to trivial matters
which it contains have been admitted to these pages as illus-
trative of the minute interest which he took in the welfare of
his family.
CC
"Brunswick Chapel, 29th July, 1839.
'My dear Susan,-I have just seen Mr. Treffry, who, to my surprise,
informs me that he did not write home, to give the information of the
Stationing Committee, by which you would have been informed of my
appointment. It is, according to previous arrangement, Liverpool South
—and I have no reason to expect any change. The whole appointment
is Squance, Beaumont, Nelson.
"I got on Saturday week amongst a few lockmakers at Willenhall
£115, and at the closing service at Hinchliff Mill, within a stone's throw
of the house in which my father was born, £104! I arrived at my
quarters, Mr. Sinclair's, Wavertree, about four o'clock on Saturday after-
I preached yesterday afternoon here to a very large congregation,
and got through quite as well as I might have expected.
noon.
"At present I have not seen the house in Stanhope-street, but I hear
a very satisfactory account of it. I have just seen Mrs. Wilson, who
says that she has a parcel for me which I shall receive by and by.
"Believe me yours most affectionately,
1
"JOSEPH.
I hope the
My love to
"P.S.-Secure as much order and early rising as you can.
children will get to their French and music-and writing.
them all, down to little John. I hope that you will all be preserved in
health and receive heavenly grace.”
TO THE SAME.
<C
Brunswick Chapel, 9th August, 1839.
My dearest Susan,-I dare say that you begin to be impatient for
further intelligence from Conference, and of course I have had no sinecure
of my Conference attendance. Generally speaking, I think my course
has impressed the Conference more powerfully than in any former year;
and altogether the effect of my humble and ceaseless toil will not I hope
be in vain in behalf of the cause of Wesleyan Methodism, to which I
have devoted my life and the purity, spirituality and efficiency of which
are objects of my anxious and laborious solicitude. I was proposed to
be elected into the Hundred,'* when objected, on the ground that
* This is, as has been already mentioned, the select body which strictly
N
178
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
+
I had not signed the Declaration! supported him, which called
forth from me an emphatic and indignant condemnation of their conduct.
I repelled the insinuation that a man who had laboured and suffered for
the Body, and was toiling in its services and devoted to its doctrine and
discipline, should be precluded from entering the Hundred because he had
withheld his signature from such a declaration. But I believe it will be
better for me to reserve all such communications until I see you face to
face: and I must request that you will now keep altogether to yourself
what I have written.
Mr. -'s case was disposed of yesterday, and is amicably settled: I
trust that I both helped him and helped the Conference in the affair.
The Stationing Committee is now sitting for the first time since it assem-
bled before Conference to prepare the rough draught of the stations. They
will sit again this afternoon and then to-morrow they will come into the
Conference. I have just heard of several changes which they have
effected in London. They have not reached Liverpool, so that I know
nothing about myself—if you do not hear from me in a day or two, you
may conclude that I am not changed.
“I have this morning seen the house which will fall to us, should we
come here—it wants painting and papering, and needs much to be done
at it. However, I trust that you will have health and happiness in it,
and that our dear children will be blessed with the same. I confess that
Liverpool seems altogether uninteresting to me after London; and now
that leaving London has actually come upon me, my heart is ready to say
No. But let me trust that all will be well, and that my soul in this
matter will become as a weaned child. I long to be at home, and hope
to reach it by the end of next week-but the Conference has got on
slowly, and when it will terminate it is quite impossible to say. God
bless you and the dear children: my love to them and my love to friends,
from your affectionate husband.”
His parting from the Hinde Street circuit was matter of
considerable regret. Aside from the many ties of habit, of
taste and of a domestic nature which bound him to London,
which had to be broken, he had the sorrow of leaving his own
people. He and they loved one another mutually and would
fain have remained connected but for the inexorable Metho-
constitutes the Conference. Notwithstanding his prominence in that
assembly and his celebrity and influence out of it, Dr. Beaumont was
not admitted into the Hundred for some years after this period. The
Declaration alluded to in this letter was a sort of mutual bond by which
many of the preachers bound themselves and expressive of certain prin-
ciples as to Wesleyan matters. The Doctor on every occasion absolutely
refused to concur in any such Declaration, which he conceived calculated
to undermine the independence of the preachers.
་
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
179
dist regulation which removed him. He had however the
consolation of experiencing every kindness and proof of their
affection from them, testified not only in their constant con-
sideration for him and their universal regret at his removal,
but also (as was the case in many of the circuits in which he
travelled) in a permanent and material form. Parting however
is not to be made sweet by the satisfaction of retaining a con-
tinuing affection or by any testimonials of respect, and it was
with a lingering heart that he travelled once more north-
wards.
►
180
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
CHAPTER X.
:
DR. BEAUMONT AS AN ORATOR.
IN narrating thus far the history of Dr. Beaumont's life
allusion has of course been made incidentally to various fea-
tures of his character, but beyond doubt his eloquence was
the most important and distinctive of the powers displayed in
his public career as they were seen by the many, though by
no means the leading characteristic which distinguished him
in the estimation of those who were intimately acquainted
either with his private or his public life. "An eloquent man
and mighty in the Scriptures," were the words most appro-
priately selected as the subject of the sermon which was
preached in his own chapel at Hull upon the occasion of his
death by his friend Dr. Dixon; and it is high time to attempt
in some measure to describe the nature and sources of his
eloquence, his position as an orator, the use which he made
of those "winged words" by which he produced in a great
measure the wide-spread good which has made his name
honoured. The task is however difficult, for it is impossible
to slur over or to describe in a few general phrases what
made him not only one of the most remarkable orators which
the pulpit has produced, but also a most powerful and effec-
tive public speaker beyond the sphere of the pulpit.
"A slave never can be eloquent," said Longinus, and an
English philosopher and statesman, Bolingbroke, has said
with regard to the same subject, "Eloquence must flow like
a stream that is fed by an abundant spring and not spout
forth like a little frothy water on some gaudy day and remain
dry the rest of the year." These apophthegms point at the ori-
gin and real nature of Dr. Beaumont's distinction as an orator.
3
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
181
The vigorous indépendence and openness of his character, its
fearlessness and freedom, his ardent feelings, his luxuriant
imagination, his expansiveness of mind, and the multitude of
his sympathies and resources-these were the original and
ever-flowing springs which fed the full stream of his eloquence.
When his faculties are analysed he is found possessed of all
those which go to make up an orator. He was not only gifted
with those loftier powers which are requisite to give a real title
to that great name, but these were conjoined to the subsidiary
yet essential qualities without which it cannot be supported. He
had an extraordinary command of language, in a measure pro-
bably unsurpassed, possibly even unequalled, and his physique
was such as answers to the ideal of one made to sway men's
minds by the force of eloquence.
He did not much exceed the middle height but he was
powerful and well-proportioned, graceful and agile; his coun-
tenance was broad and massive, but moulded with great re-
finement and beaming with expressiveness-indeed of his
appearance and presence might be said what was written of
one of the great German Reformers, "Vividus vultus, vividi
oculi, vividæ manus, denique omnia vivida." He was of
a fair complexion, somewhat ruddy, and every feature was
marked with a striking individuality. His hair-in later
years varying in colour, now brown, now silver, now nearly
black-flowed almost unrestrained and with singular softness
and grace over a brow which was remarkably lofty, delicately
modelled, and to which its beautiful proportions and the open
expansive temples gave a magnified appearance. His eyes,
which were small and deeply set, were of that brilliant blue
which is more often talked of by poets and lovers than seen,
themselves most eloquent, ever gleaming with the fire of an
ardent soul, but full of the love and tenderness which can
perhaps be perfectly expressed only by eyes azure-tinted as
were his. His mouth betokened all the wealth and power
and sensitiveness of his character; it was large and mobile,
and, while full of earnestness and thought in its expression,
it was constantly relieved by an ever-varying play of senti-
ment, humour and kindliness, and thus it formed a fit organ
for the chief exercise of his great powers. Nor were his
other features or his contour wanting in expressiveness, but
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
F
all aided to produce a countenance singularly brilliant, power-
ful and attractive.
The Doctor's manner was suave, dignified and impressive,
perfectly removed from and opposite to severe, and remark-
ably placid except on occasions which gave rise to an ex-
citement irrepressible and certainly not less effective than
his ordinary manner. His voice was singularly fitted for
oratorical effect-a barytone, sonorous and powerful, ex-
tremely mellifluous and susceptible of remarkable modula-
tion. Aided by his excellent musical ear, he used it with
extraordinary skill and nothing in this way could be more
impressive than was Dr. Beaumont's reading of the Liturgy,
or of some favourite passage from the Scriptures or the
poets, or especially of the beautiful service for the burial
of the dead, his voice rising and falling with a swell and a
plaintiveness like the tones of some grand organ, and modu-
lated with a justness and a naturalness absolutely opposed to
the received canons of clerical reading, but which never failed
deeply to move and to rivet the attention of his hearers.
In preaching Dr. Beaumont had one vocal peculiarity
which was no doubt, in the extent to which he occasionally
carried it, a defect. His skill was like that of a great musi-
cian, but, like some of the greatest of musicians, he not
infrequently employed a peculiar "discord," which was
effected by dropping his voice to its lowest depth and mut-
tering, sotto voce, or sometimes gutturally, a few words or a
sentence so rapidly that it was often difficult for those who
heard to apprehend his words. This mannerism no doubt
arose (as has the too frequent use of discords by great
musical composers in several instances) from perceiving the
powerful effect which such a change occasionally produces-
an effect which can however but very rarely be relied on legiti-
mately. But like all other mannerisms it did not stand out as
a mere defect. It had its own meaning and force which were
especially felt by those who were familiar with Dr. Beaumont's
style, and it was utterly different from the vagaries and extra-
vagances of a pretender. Singularly enough this habit was
only apparent in his preaching, as in other positions he never
adopted it, and perhaps it could not have been adopted with
any measure of advantage or effect except from the pulpit.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
183
Another defect in his manner of speaking was occasionally
extreme loudness, though this is perhaps one which the most
distinguished orators have fallen into to a greater or less de-
gree as to some extent necessarily accompanying earnestness.
It is beyond question impossible for one who has not trained
himself in the constrained and spiritless school of those tame
rhetoricians who can never hope to attain to more than me-
diocrity, entirely to avoid some faults of this nature. It is
beyond question impossible, so long as the fire burns that
makes a true orator, to restrain it from occasionally mastering
his judgment and art; nor, were it otherwise, would it be de-
sirable absolutely to repress those outbreaks which are, where
genuine, the true and never-failing accompaniments of genius.
They have distinguished Demosthenes and Eschines, Cicero
and Hortensius, Grattan and Burke, and it may be doubted
whether the soul can be truly vehement without causing a simi-
lar and occasionally an excessive vehemence of manner, a some-
what of the quivering lips, the gasping breath, the fiery eye and
passionate sounds which the Greeks when the world was young
attributed to their splendid ideal, the Trojan prophetess and
orator Cassandra. Dr. Beaumont's oratory was in this way
eminently vehement, and was formed very much on the
Demosthenic model, or at least it displayed very much the
Demosthenic character, especially as he followed the well-
known precept which inculcates the constant use of action
-action in his case the most vivid, natural and expressive.
But he was by no means insensible to the danger which beset
him of allowing this vehemence undue liberty, and with
much care he almost invariably restrained it within the limits
of art as well as of good taste. This was a peculiarly difficult
task to one trained in a position such as was his in early life
a position which opened to him but a bad school for such
training. He required the severe test of a forensic education,
the calm practice of addressing a select assembly on argumen-
tative topics, rather than to be exposed at nineteen years of
age to the temptations of preaching to large audiences of
eager hearers, consisting to a great extent of the humbler
classes, and easily inflamed by the earnestness of a young
pietist; but, notwithstanding this and notwithstanding his
own ardent disposition, the occasions of Dr. Beaumont's excess
184
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
**
:
in this particular were quite exceptional and his manner was
such as had for the refined and educated a charm equal at
least to that which it had for the rudest and poorest of his
hearers. It was usually calm though earnest, but in his most
unrestrained appeals he displayed nothing of the vulgarity
of the demagogue and, while now and then too vehement
bursts of feeling might mar the harmony of his splendid
eloquence in an artistic point of view, they were in them-
selves most powerful and their significance could only be
misunderstood by the affected or the ignorant.
An opportunity will occur in editing some of Dr. Beau-
mont's works to consider more at length than is here desirable
the substance, the literary and material merits of his sermons;
but these pages would be very incomplete without some notice
of their character. "What is the reason," frankly said the
good Archbishop Sancroft to Betterton, "that you players pro-
duce such extraordinary effects as you do in your houses, while
we preachers fail in producing any in our churches?” “ I sup-
pose, your grace, that this is the cause," replied the actor—
"you parsons preach truth as if you were acting or reciting a
fable, while we players act as if we were in earnest." Certainly
Dr. Beaumont did not belong to this class of "parsons," for
his earnestness operated as a magical spell on the most listless
and indifferent audience. No flesh could have been so dull,
no spirit so cold, unsympathetic and unimpressible as to re-
main unmoved under the fervent and eloquent appeals which
he urged with the whole force of eternal truth. This earnest-
ness was the thing which most essentially characterised his
sermons. The envelope was beautiful and elaborate, and
would of itself have been precious had it enclosed something
less rare-nay, it was precious, but its value was lost in that
of the real, living, sacred substance which it carried to the
heart and allowed not to rest in the fancy or the ear.
It was often striking to watch the way in which Dr.
Beaumont roused his hearers. It might be observed in
audiences of all kinds, but here allusion is made more parti-
cularly to those to whom he preached. Listlessness was
dispelled as soon as he entered the pulpit, but when his text
had been read, all would set themselves in attitudes of eager
attention, their souls having been gradually elevated by the
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
185
**
remarkably solemn, beautiful and devotional mode in which
he always conducted the prayers and praises of his congrega-
tions. His prayers both in public and private were perhaps
his most beautiful compositions; but not as compositions ought
they to be looked at, so sacred and solemn was the influence
which they produced. One of his colleagues has well described
the former class of them in the following words: "His
prayers were always models for public devotion-chastened,
subdued, fervent, importunate petitions. That amazing afflu-
ence of diction and discursiveness of fancy which usually charac-
terised his addresses to his fellow men gave place in his appeals
to the mercy seat to a reverent and beseeching simplicity. Then
his imagination (like the angel of whom were his last earthly
utterances) seemed to droop its head and veil its flaming eyes
with its vast pinion. His prayers often reminded me of Thomas
Goodwin's saying, 'Prayer moves God not as an orator moves
his hearers but as a child moves his father!'”
He usually commenced his discourse by a short exordium,
delivered with much quiet force and eloquence, by which
he ordinarily succeeded in at once bringing his hearers
in close sympathy with himself. After a few minutes atten-
tion would be changed for eager anticipation, often mixed
with a sort of wonder. If a spectator had taken the trouble
to examine he would have seen many eyes moistened, some-
times merely with the joyful excitement of the listener, but
very often with penitential tears or with the mournful sym-
pathies which the preacher's pathetic laments and his elo-
quent entreaties called forth, and it would have been strange
had he beheld any of the unseemly displays of lassitude
and inattention which are so common in the present day.
He allowed his hearers no rest. His preachings were not
meditations but sermons, with a goal and a course, and
those who listened never went away wondering what they
had heard or whither he had led them. He might hover
for an instant over some reflection or suggestion incidental
to his subject; he often elaborated some part of it on the
spur of the moment far beyond the proportions which his
limited time would allow or which his plan had allotted to it,
but he was only on the way to some ultimate point which he
ordinarily made a sort of climax, and up to this he would
1
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
་
soar, dazzling his hearers often with the regions of brilliancy
through which he conducted them and amazing them with
the height to which they had been borne, till this point was
gained and the promised prospect opened. On this summit
theme he would descant until he had thoroughly impressed
it upon the hearts of his audience, and then his end was ac-
complished. Often as he proceeded in this way his hearers
became deeply and universally moved and excited; in the
more rural and less artificial congregations, the old Metho-
dist fervour carried them beyond the decorous limits to
which they were habituated, and he was interrupted by re-
sponses and other audible manifestations of feeling. Even in
more select assemblies (and those who know what are called
the aristocratic congregations which are gathered from amongst
the dissenters of large towns will be aware that by no class are
the proprieties and decorum of public worship so punctiliously
observed as by them) he was repeatedly startled by a general
burst of applause, and by one of the largest of these "aristo-
cratic" crowds in Manchester, he was on one occasion urged
to "go on" when drawing to the close of a discourse which
had been prolonged beyond the ordinary limits allowed to
pulpit addresses.
Dr. Beaumont's sermons are properly to be called original,
not in the sense of their substance being something in itself
novel or strange, but in so far as that they evinced in manner
and in style the individual soul and thought of their author.
Perhaps they belong to no distinct school, nor indeed do they
always display the same features, though always bearing the
impress of his original, thoughtful and fertile mind. His study
of the sermons both of the English and French, the Anglican
and Nonconformist divines was careful, but it is difficult to
trace in his own works of this kind a close resemblance to any
of them. Possibly the pulpit orations of Massillon are those
which are the most similar to his own in character, while at
the same time they differ very widely. The works of that dis-
tinguished man, doubtless one of the greatest of preachers, with
all their earnestness and fervour and faithfulness hardly an-
swered the idea of Gospel preaching as Dr. Beaumont under-
stood it; his efforts had too much of the essay, and too much
of the stateliness and ornate character best suited to the society
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
187
*
-
in which they were produced; they were altogether too artificial
and sacrificed too much of the life to the form. Yet in warmth
and glow of feeling, the poetical element, the broad features
of their style and general mode of treating their subjects, their
direct appeals to sinning mortals to believe on the Lord Jesus.
Christ, to abandon all for Him, and to rely solely on His
cross, these two great preachers seem to have had much in
common. Many of Dr. Beaumont's sermons have much in
Common also with those of Jeremy Taylor, but they are far
less ornate and want the form and many of the characteristics of
those noble productions. For the works of another Anglican
prelate, Bishop Hall (a widely different man from Taylor), he
had a great admiration, and many traces of his familiarity with
the "Meditations are to be found in his pulpit works. He
derived also much profit as well as pleasure from the literature
of the Puritans, for some of whom, and the illustrious Baxter
in particular, he entertained the highest reverence; and he
turned to good account the works of the Scotch divines as well
as those of the English dissenters and of his own religious
community.
He was decidedly evangelical (understanding the word in
its original sense) in his preaching. He avoided doctrinal
disquisitions which, as has been mentioned, he esteemed un-
profitable and distracting subjects for a society of professing
Christians, at least when treated in a controversial tone; for
in an expositive spirit he constantly preached on the leading
doctrines of Christianity, and especially upon those of justifi-
cation by faith and sanctification. He most delighted in
holding up for contemplation the mercy which endureth for
ever, that love which casteth out all fear, that holiness with-
out which no man can see the Lord. He loved also to hold up
as objects for desire and attainment the pleasures of religion,
the beatitudes of a sanctified spirit, the glorious future when
the flesh shall be raised incorruptible, the graces of Christian
perfection and the joys of a full deliverance from the dominion
of sin and the curse of selfishness. He preached much on
personal and relative duties, and he was not tender in pointing
out the terrors of the law to the wicked, of enforcing the obli-
gations under which all men are to Him who is the Lord and
Giver of life, as well as the Redeemer of the world, or of pro-
188
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
#
*
phesying the whirlwind and terrible tempest which will infal-
libly involve those who despise His sayings. The following
selection of a few of his favourite texts will illustrate in some
measure the subjects which he most frequently treated.
کھی
"I was glad when they said unto me, let us go up to the house of the
Lord."
“And his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God,
the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace."
"And the Spirit and the bride say, Come.
say, Come. And let him that is athirst come.
him take the water of life freely."
•
And let him that heareth
And whosoever will, let
“If I forget thee, oh Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth;
if I prefer not Jerusalem, above my chief joy.”
For thou hast made me glad through thy presence; I will triumph
in the work of thy hands."
66
That by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to
lie, we might have strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to the
hope set before us."
“The righteousness of God which is by faith in Christ Jesus, unto all
and upon all them that believe; for there is no difference."
"
'Refuse profane and old wives' fables, and exercise thyself unto godli-
ness. For bodily exercise profiteth little; but godliness is profitable for
all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to
come."
It will be observed that several of these texts are taken
from the Psalms and, in this respect, the selection illustrates
the partiality which Dr. Beaumont had for that portion of the
Scriptures, of which he thus speaks in one of his sermons :-
The Book of Psalms seems to unite in a degree peculiar to itself the
characteristics of various other parts of the inspired volume, for it is his-
torical and prophetic, doctrinal and practical, it is full of pathos and
pre-eminently devotional; so that the sweet singer of Israel shall be the
singer for us, and when we want apt words for apt places, choice ex-
pressions of choice sentiment, we will cull them from the inimitable
Psaltef of David. For, though it was indeed composed for the service of
the Jews under the law, it is not the less adapted to the service of
Christions under the Gospel. Like the manna which came down out of
the clouds and fell on the tents of the Israelites, it accommodates itself
to every heart and every requirement, to every sorrow and every hope.”
The key of Dr. Beaumont's success as a preacher, it will be
found on looking a little within the veil of his mere outward
gifts, was peculiarly sympathy. He had the faculty of putting
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1
66
all classes of his hearers in magnetic communication, if that
may be said, with himself—the sorrowing by the inimitable
pathos with which he opened their hearts and applied the
strong consolation;" the ardent and devout by his glowing
pictures of the eternal reward of the faithful and of the
glorious privileges of the perfect Christian; the hopeful, the
youthful, the indifferent and the worldly by his sympathy with
their joys and their failings and temptations; the rebellious
by his tender and affectionate manner, and the critical by the
earnestness and devotion of his discourses, their freedom from
affectation, and the simplicity as well as the intellectual qua-
lities and the knowledge of men and things which they
displayed.
Nothing was more distinctive about Dr. Beaumont's preach-
ing than the brilliance with which he painted the joys of the
Christian. He was no morbid melancholic who thought hap-
piness a proof of sin, society a snare, or seclusion a virtue
and a blessing; but while he constantly maintained the im-
portance of strict self-examination and the most unfaltering
pursuit of spiritual improvement, he ever represented the
result of these duties, true religion, as joy and gladsomeness,
and he would often dilate on this aspect of it to his hearers,
whatever might be the subject of his discourse, in the fol-
lowing words or in some similar strain :-
+
I sometimes hear men say, 'Yes, religion is a very good thing, a
very political thing, a very respectable thing, but it is a dull thing, a
gloomy thing, an oppressive thing. It stops the flow of a man's blood,
the laugh at his heart, the light in his eye.' Why, what manner of men
are these? Religion is all joy-the source of the purest happiness, the
complement of earthly felicity, the sum of man's good as well in this life
as in that to come! You might as well say the sun that turns the damp,
chilly, dark, grey dawn into the brilliant splendour of a summer's morn-
ing is a dull thing! You might as well say that the early spring, with
its soft rain and fertilizing warmth which cause the fields to laugh and
the flowers to spring, and the winter to be forgotten, and hope to come,
and youth and joy to abound, is a miserable thing! You might as well
style the gentle strains of music as they delight the ear and gladden the
heart a gloomy thing! But-I grieve to say it-there are those who call
themselves Christians who give some countenance to this misrepresenta-
tion of religion. Take care you don't put a stumbling-block in the way
of others by your moroseness, or your narrow-mindedness, or your un-
charitableness. Depend upon it, if you display these sinister features of
*
:
1
•
190
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
.your character, if you entertain these miserable ideas, there is something
wrong with you rather than with those you blame, for Christianity has
nothing to do with melancholy except to chase it away! You, doubting,
miserable, faltering Christians! why do you tremble and walk with your
eyes downcast to the ground as if this earth were the best you have to
hope for, and the next all you have to fear? Lift up your heads I say,
break forth into singing, and let not the world sneer at you with the say-
ing, 'Lo, these seek after they know not what, and are wandering in a
vain shadow!'
* 19
The same views are differently expressed and applied in the
following sentences :-
“Do you say that this world is a pleasant place? I know that it
ought to be so, and cultivated by the hand of industry and brightened
by the light of virtue it is a garden that yields some delightful flowers;
but if you will have the world as a garden you will allow me to remind
you what sort of a garden it is. It is surely like that garden you read of
in the Gospel. There was a garden, and in that garden there was a
sepulchre '—and as this world is the cradle, so is it the grave of enjoyment.
How beautiful are its flowers, how fragrant are its fruits-but the flowers
droop and fade, the fruits drop and corrupt-in the garden there is a sepul-
chre! My believing brethren, lift up your heads, lift them up and behold!
The grave laments, its gloomy shadow speaks; but by that sepulchre a
flower lifts its head and unbosoms its beauty and diffuses its fragrance-a
flower that never fades and never dies, the flower of immortality! Christ
saith unto you, ' Because I live, ye shall live also,' and with all the glories
of the Godhead in his countenance and all the music of heaven in his voice,
he is calling to you, Rise up my love, my fair one, and come away, for lo,
the winter is past, the summer is over and gone, the flowers appear on the
earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle
is heard in our land. Arise my love, my fair one, and come away!"
Dr. Beaumont's sermons were usually of a simple character;
they took the salient points of the great truths of Christianity,
the leading features of the Gospel of Peace and applied them
in the most direct and forcible manner to the hearts of his
hearers, and they did this in a form as simple as ordinarily
the matter was, and generally with but little of precise and
formal arrangement; or rather his arrangement was less of a
logical, and what is commonly called methodical, than of a
subjective nature. This instead of detracting from the merit
of these productions rather formed one of their characteristic
charms, so effective and complete was the harmony, the light
and shade, so to speak, with which they were elaborated. But,
simple as were his sermons in their enforcement of Christian
:
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
191
doctrines, they contained the most elevated and practical ex-
positions of the precepts of religion; they were full of beauties
of sentiment and of thought; they displayed the work of a pro-
found, earnest and original intellect, and whatever they con-
tained was set in a form and language so beautiful and glowing,
and delivered in a manner so masterly that his distinguished
success in the great work of evangelisation (which, whatever
else he did, he felt was his peculiar and grand calling) and his
great reputation and influence are by no means wonderful.
Many, very many, were brought into the Christian church
through his instrumentality, so that the period of his appoint-
ment in each circuit was marked not only by crowded con-
gregations and general prosperity but more especially by the
richer trophies of many sinners converted to Christ. Many
were the ministers in his own and in other churches who
were through him brought to God, and many were by him led
to undertake the sacred office. Some of these have become
themselves useful and successful preachers of salvation; and
wherever he went he was greeted and from all parts of the
world addressed by those who claimed him as their spiritual
father. How great is now his joy in these the ever germinat-
ing fruits of his labours!
Passing from this subject, some points about his style deserve
to be remarked upon. His manner was to speak in nervous
English, with a preference in practice for that of a Saxon cha-
racter, but he had an idiosyncrasy in his use of language which
led him sometimes to select with great skill words peculiar and
of Latin or technological character for the sake of emphasis, or
of what would perhaps be more properly described artistically
as relief. Another peculiarity was what an able writer who pub-
lished an account of him some years ago, calls his repetitive style
which was frequently adopted and which consisted in the em-
ployment of nearly synonymous words in a mode quite singu-
lar. He did not use these for the purpose of vulgar ornament,
nor did they in the least give the appearance of turgidity, but
they had the effect of a sort of commentary on one another,
expressing with the aid of his voice and manner the various
aspects or parts of the same idea, or sometimes merely enforc-
ing and enlarging upon it. Occasionally the same effect would
be produced merely by a repetition, perhaps several times, of
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT:
the same word; and such was the quality of his voice and his
eloquent manner, that in this way he often produced the most
striking and legitimate effects.
His general style, though chaste and often severe, was bril-
liant and imaginative and was particularly distinguished by
his effective use of metaphor. His faculty for the invention and
application of figures, similes, and what the writer before refer-
red to calls "rhetorical analogies" was masterly and such as
could only have resulted from a remarkable combination of
imagination and good taste with the more severe intellectual
powers. Perhaps no orator ever possessed so delicate and ready
a power of elaborating them with the utmost exactitude and
refinement, the purest fancy, and yet the most forcible effect.
He did not deign to the vulgar, fantastic tropes which are
easily enough accessible to every would-be orator and the ab-
surdity of which is commonly concealed or heightened, accord-
ing to the taste and knowledge of the hearer, by the bombastic
use of rotund language. Nor did he ever mistake these rhe-
torical graces for or put them in place of the substantial frame-
work which it was their office to adorn and strengthen; but he
had recourse to the whole world of nature, of art and of feeling
to draw thence arguments and illustrations by which to point
and enforce his teaching, to touch the heart, to arrest the atten-
tion or to hold the memory. Two or three illustrations will
however more satisfactorily display this feature of Dr. Beau-
mont's eloquence than could be done by any criticism. Speak-
ing of the mystery of the immortality of the soul he said :—
"All that we know is that the soul never, never dies. It is like a swelling
river, the course of which you can follow from region to region and from
soil to soil but which, at last, bewildered, you lose by the stream entering
a deep and embowered wood. You can follow it no further the wood is
so thick, the forest is so dense that you cannot go after it, but you hear
it dashing on by the furiousness of its roar. So it is with the human
soul. You cannot follow it after death, but you know by the intimations
which reach you that it is immortal."
In the following passage he speaks of the abiding peace
which religion imparts:*-
* Both these extracts have been already published in the eloquent
pages of the "Shadows from the Lights of the Modern Pulpit," where
they appear as instances of Dr. Beaumont's figurative skill, and they
are here transcribed as they afford very good and particularly concise
examples of that skill.
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
193
'You cannot touch the deep foundations of the Christian's peace.
When the winds are up and raving loudly you see the trees torn up by
the roots, the waves of the sea boiling and ships dashed to pieces by their
surges. You are perhaps inclined to say, 'How tempestuous it must be
below, a thousand fathoms down!' Ah, the winds have never reached
those depths-there all is peace-there rests a large mass of waters which
they cannot reach, for their effect is spent on the surface. And so, let wealth
depart, let political influence decline, let death come, let all the winds
from hell be unloosed-you cannot touch the deep foundations of the
Christian's peace. You have only seen the surface; in the deep within all
is peace, peace!"
He repeatedly made use of an illustration when he desired
to enforce on his hearers the importance of diligence in their
spiritual vocation which was so very beautiful that it is with
great regret that the writer finds himself, after every endeavour
to procure them, unable to give the words in which it was
at any time couched. In a volume which was originally pub-
lished in America* he has however found a passage in which it
is referred to which is here quoted as it describes that illust-
ration far more ably than the writer could hope to do.
Sometimes, indeed, the preacher (Dr. Beaumont) seems himself to be
the personification of the symbol employed, so perfectly does he embody
his idea, and so entirely in keeping is every intonation and action. I
remember one remarkable instance of this, though the occasion is now so
remote that I cannot remember other portions of the sermon, in the
absence of which, and because I cannot recall the speaker's felicitous
language, the figure will be shorn of much of its beauty.
"Dr. Beaumont was preaching in one of the Salford (Manchester)
chapels. In the progress of the discourse he was led to speak of the
'riches of wisdom and knowledge' and consolation which the true
believer might gather from the sacred word. It was 'sweeter than honey
or the honey-comb.' But it was by diligent searching only that its
hidden treasures could be secured. Carrying out the idea, he depicted
the bee, industriously prosecuting its search for honey, darting across the
cultivated garden, sipping nectar and lading itself with store-honey from
every opening flower; now flying over the wide-spread moor, finding
treasures of sweetness even in the modest flowers of wild thyme and the
delicately tinted petals of the heather bell: and anon humming blithely
its merry, grateful song, as it sought its homeward way by the deep
ravine, and even there found new treasures as it alighted for a moment
upon the lowly primrose or retiring violet. But no types, no language,
* "Sketches of Wesleyan Preachers. By Robert A. West."
O
194
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
especially where memory is the only guide, can convey to the reader a
tithe of the beauties of the illustration as orally presented by the preacher.
Placing the Bible under his arm, and pressing it to his heart as a treasure
'more precious than rubies,' he dwelt in measured cadence upon the
picture, adapting his intonations so exactly to the rapid movements, the
sudden haltings and startings of the laborious insect, that his hearers
seemed to journey with him through the garden, and moorland, and
clefts of rocks, and almost to see the ideal insect, and hear its joyful hum,
as now it hovered over the inviting flower, or, rejoicing over its spoils,
sped its rapid flight to its refuge and home. I have listened to not a
few glowing scenes from nature, but never heard so perfect a poetic
impersonation—for it was more than painting; it had life, and motion,
and voice."
Dr. Beaumont was as distinguished a "platform" speaker,
as it is called, as he was a preacher.
a preacher. He had the happy
faculty of saying the right thing at the right time in the best
way, and he was never more effective than in circumstances
which called for tact and delicacy of "handling." In this
respect especially he would have been distinguished as a
forensic advocate, for he could play on his audience as a
musician plays on the keys of his instrument so as to call
forth the responses most harmonious and sequential. This
power made him also singularly fitted for all those minor
and graceful exercises of oratory which relieve and may
perhaps be said to dignify festive and social gatherings. On
such occasions it was curious to mark the astonishment and
delight occasioned by the contrast which his brilliance
afforded to the painful shyness, awkwardness and affectation
with which many of the orators on such occasions succeed in
depressing and mystifying themselves and their auditors.
Bright, sparkling, racy humour, friendly badinage, pleasant
burlesque were so skilfully adapted to the kindly sentiment
and the earnestness and reflectiveness which gave a substance
and importance to the whole as to invest these speeches
with an extraordinary charm, a force and character quite un-
usual.
But it was of course only on more grave occasions that
the higher qualities of his eloquence on general subjects were
shown. When he came forward in a great public assembly his
appearance was ordinarily the signal for a remarkable display
of enthusiasm; burst after burst of applause, cheers and
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
195
shouts were repeated over and over again before the tumult
could be appeased, and it was generally some minutes
before his hearers could settle down into a state favourable
to attention. This sort of furore occurred equally on oc-
casions of the most diverse character-at the London Tavern,
in Exeter Hall, or at a literary assembly, just as at a
remote missionary gathering in Wales or Cornwall, and per-
haps no man was more accustomed than he became to that dif-
ficult pose of standing mute and placid in face of a tumultuous
though applauding multitude. He had much felicity in appre-
hending immediately the humour of his audience, and he
adapted his speeches so readily to that humour that on ordi-
nary occasions his addresses from the platform were entirely
impromptu. With the broadest and most vigorous strokes he
showed the leading features of the subject under consideration,
adorned with every adventitious rhetorical beauty, but with the
greatest distinctness and force. "The master of rhetorical
analogy" he has been well called and as such he illustrated
and enforced the themes of such speeches with all the opu-
lence of his intellectual resources and his fertile and genial
imagination. He moved on the feelings of his hearers as
by a strong wind and, after opening every recess of their
hearts to his appeals, urging them by his fervour, delighting
them with his fancy, touching them to pathos, attracting
them by some luminous point or some happy anecdote and
infecting them with his spirit-yet ever keeping to his
text and pushing forward his argument-he would retire from
the excited assembly amidst shouts of applause even more
unmistakeable and tumultuous than those which greeted his
introduction.
As hardly any of Dr. Beaumont's speeches were ever written
even in outline, and as he never preserved reports of them,
there are only limited opportunities of selecting passages
from them; but a few sentences from those which are extant
are here inserted as being illustrative of the character-
istics of his oratory. The following is from a Missionary
address, which was as much distinguished for its elaborate
treatment of the subject and its elevated philosophy and
breadth of view, as for its eloquence and Christian senti-
ment.
196
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
“The second great increase of Christianity arose from an event which
threatened to overwhelm it in irreparable ruin-the irruption of the bar-
barians into the Roman empire. But the Gothic race were still in that
rude state of society in which superstition is local in its tendencies, and
when the gods seem less to inhabit the heavens than to haunt the rocks
and woods and streams. When the barbarians had left behind them
their native mountains, the deities which haunted them seemed also to
be at a distance, numbers and superior civilization prevailed, as they
ever must, over force and the conquest of violence, and the victors as-
sumed the religion as they assumed the language of the vanquished,
modified with lingering recollections of their own simple faith.
"The Sclavic race exhibited on a smaller scale and more obscurely the
same changes as the Gothic tribes had done, nor were these peculiarly
attributable to Christianity in either case, but we may see in them
the result of a common principle, which led the descendants of Zinghis
Khan, after wavering between Christianity and Islamism, to adopt the
religion of their conquered subjects just as the Mongol and Mantchou
Tartars adopted the manners and opinions of the Chinese. This partial
and almost nominal conversion has in the result proved the most im-
portant acquisition that Christianity has ever made, for the Gothic stem
has been fruitful in suckers, like the banyan tree of Milton, which
spreads her arms
Branching so broad and long that in the ground
The bended twigs take root and daughters grow
About the mother tree.'
"The three things in which the present age excels the ancients are the
inductive philosophy, the art of printing and extended education. By
means of these Christianity may and will deserve the epithet of Catholic.
The withdrawal of the veil from nature will show the utter incompatibi-
lity of all false religions with the philosophy of facts, and the Meru of the
Hindus, the Kaf of the Moslem, and all the dreams of superstition must
vanish away before the light of truth bearing the Gospel in one hand
and true philosophy in the other.
The future of the
•
vast empire of India is placed under the direction and control of the
British government, and an empire more absolute than any which has
tyrannised over the body might be held in the affections, established in
the traditions and supported by the literature of a hundred millions of
subjects. The fiction of the Brahmin might be realised and the White
Islands of the West become more sacred to the Hindus than Meru, and
the waves that wash its shores more holy than the waters of the Ganges.
It is no fantastic or enthusiastic dream, but a prospect as well founded as
it is glorious, that England, the classic land of the better days, may have
the fulness of the Gentiles for an inheritance of glory; for charity is a
gad that wanders up and down through the world, and though she begins
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
197
her work at home yet will not stay till she has embraced within the ample
folds of her mercy every son and daughter of affliction.
"As faith waxed feeble so with charity, and with charity all efforts to
instruct and to save; and Christians, instead of publishing it to others,
disputed over the truth among themselves, and the Bible, instead of being
as a highway for the simple, became a labyrinth of subtleties for the
disputers of this world and was changed from the herald of peace and
goodwill into a magazine of weapons offensive and defensive, where
every combatant might be furnished to his need, where text was set in
array against text, evangelist against evangelist, and apostle against
apostle."
The following sentences are taken from a speech delivered
at a meeting of the Young Men's Christian Association in
Exeter Hall. Alluding to the value of religious and moral
culture in early life he said,
"To see a full blown flower dishevelled, broken, dishonoured, dis-
mantled is a painful sight; but to see a bud, a full, promising bud with all
its elemental beauty and all its rudimental life prostrated, broken, sullied,
damaged is a melancholy sight indeed.
"And yours is an association. Our friend Mr. Curling spoke of the
rapidity of the electric fluid and the transmission of thought. And how
do they manage to propagate sentiment by that agency so far? Just by
an association of batteries. A single battery will only send a message
to Slough-connect two or three more batteries and it will send it on to
Reading-a few more jars to produce a little more electric matter, all
being connected together, and you will send it on to Bath--and one jar
more and it will come to me at Bristol! But then these must be all as-
sociated, all connected; for then only comes the battery called the galvanic
battery, then comes the pile called the voltaic pile before which resistance
is impossible. Such is the value of association even in matter, matter in
its condensed and concentrated form and condition, united, tied together,
married, if you will have the word, Sir!
"The Christian! oh, how I love that word-it falls like music on my
ear! We live in times of peace, Mr. Chairman, in which there is a
growing passion for intellectual knowledge. I blame it not-not I!
The intellect is a noble product of Omnipotence and Wisdom-and God
never made an intellect to remain uncultivated. It is the receptive
organ of knowledge as the eye is the receptive organ of light, for the very
anatomy of the eye shows that light was to go into it, and the physiology
of the intellect tells me that it was made for knowledge. I am no enemy
to scientific or political or any kind of knowledge, provided it does not
lumber the mind, that it is knowledge and not a congeries of blunders
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
packed away in the convolutions of the brain, that it is not a heap of rub-
bish collected under the name of knowledge. What I mean by knowledge
is the agreement of the mind with truth. There are scientific truths,
and there is a great passion for them, and I do not wonder at it. We
used to know nothing at all about the atmosphere that girdles the globe
-one neither saw nor felt it, one did not know there was an atmosphere
your troublesome philosopher told us, and now we know all about it;
we know it is soft and elastic, that it consists of several gases combined
in certain proportions, that from a mixture of these gases comes a vital
fluid holding in it the elements of animal and vegetable life. Well, I
like to know that, and I think you like to know it too!
till
"And so I might go on and speak of water, perhaps of light and of
other beautiful substances created by the great Architect of the universe.
Acquaintance with these things increases our knowledge of that which I
must be excused for calling the physical grandeur of the Deity. Men
will praise that physical grandeur, but if they stop there knowledge is
not applied to its highest use, genius is sullied in the mire, intellect is
darkened. Tell those individuals that God's moral character is his great
glory, that He is the moral life and legislator of the universe, then you
may give them all science and philosophy because they will then conclude
that as is His power so is His holiness, as is His power so is His truth, ás
is His power so is His faithfulness. Now man may push his inquiries
into the region of physical truth and may come back laden with beautiful
discoveries—he may explore the distant by the telescope and the minute
by the microscope-both will reveal the glories of the Creator-but the
great thing is to let him know that he that peopled the far-off worlds and
clothed the near earth with its wonders and its benignities is the God of
the Bible and of the Christian religion.
But bye the
"After all our friend has said there is certainly a march.
bye I cannot quite accept his compliment to modern times. We have
not done everything. We did not invent the telescope; we did not
invent the microscope; we did not translate the Scriptures into English
out of the lofty Hebrew and the classic Greek; we did not suffer and
shed our blood to wrench civil and religious, liberty from the fangs of
tyrants. Former generations did these things, and we tread in their
steps and reap the fruit of their benefits. I am very glad however that
we in our time are galvanised a little and are for 'going ahead' ourselves.
Cicero writing to his rich friend Atticus, who indulged in the luxury of
having a great number of slaves, said, 'Don't get your slaves from
Britain they are so stupid that you can never teach them anything.'
They were your forefathers, you are their descendants, your ancestors
were slaves, and stupid slaves! Thank God, slavery is gone-for the
chimes of the Gospel have been ringing in the island, and when they
ring fairly and fully how can slavery exist? And thank God, the
stupidity is gone-for the schoolmaster is abroad and Christian associa-
tions of young men are prospering, and I think this augurs well for old
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
199
England. Many are leaving it, and we can't blame them-and may
God prosper their enterprise-but there is only one England. Christ-
ianity has made England, England; and knowledge and morals and
Sabbath-keeping and godly teaching and sound illuminating truth
will keep England, England-
First flower of the earth, first gem of the sea.'
But we mean the flower to shine out brightly, to have all the petals un-
wrapped, that the whole of its beauty may be produced by the sun of
Christianity, shining down on the corolla, flashing out glory to the
name of our God."
·
The last extract which will be given is from another Exeter
Hall speech, which was (in 1851) delivered in advocacy of
the Sunday-school Union in which Dr. Beaumont took con-
siderable interest, and it is a characteristic specimen of his
platform speeches.
"We must all surely admit the value of education. Everything is the
better for being educated, everything is the better for being cultivated.
If
you educate a stone, what a very great improvement you make in it!
Before you educate it, it is nothing but a hard, offensive substance,
against which, perhaps, your foot struck as you walked, and from con-
tact with which you experience a very uneasy sensation, and, pushing it
from you, you hope you have done with it. But educate that stone-let
the mineralogist get hold of it, let the lapidary set to work upon it, peel
off the incrustations, the enveloping laminæ, and come down upon the
hidden virtue. Give the stone the true cleavage, and out comes its real
beauty, and that which before was a rough, uncouth, noxious and offen-
sive thing becomes a beautiful, sparkling gem, fit to adorn the finger of a
nobleman, or to glitter amidst the gems which grace the diadem of the
monarch of a free country. And all this comes of educating a stone!
Educate a vegetable, and what an extraordinary improvement you bring
about, what a revelation of beautiful colouring matter, what an innu-
merable assemblage of delicate tintings, what a large gathering of odori-
ferous essences! And all this in what used to be regarded as a common
weed, and one which was so slighted that scarce even a sparrow would
condescend to peck at it! Educate it, I say, and out comes a delicate
flower, flooded with beauty, flashing with lustre, and fit to be held in the
hand of the Queen of England, when she meets in the Crystal Palace
the representatives of the population of the world!
“So much for education even among inanimate things; but come to
mind, the immaterial substance of mind-come to that gem, that won-
drous product of Omnipotence and benevolence-educate that, wherever
you find it, in America, or England, or Africa, under a black skin or
under a white skin, (for mind is always the same-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
200
Skins may differ, but affection,'
aye, and intellection too,
‘Dwells in white and black the same'),
and what brilliant results may not you anticipate!
Well, but this is a Sunday-school Union. It is delightful to find
union somewhere now-a-days. It is a sort of elysium to find union
here—real union, not nominal; actual, not shadowy; positive, not
professional. I say it is good! That which has very much puzzled
philosophers is the dew-point-I mean that particular temperature of
the atmosphere, and that particular moment of time, in which the rank,
rimy, ropy, noxious vapours of the night are turned into the beautiful,
rich, fruitful dew of the morning. There is, however, some point of
time and some temperature of the atmosphere when this happy transition
is effected, and when the chill, clammy, thick, viscid, vexing vapour of the
night is transmuted into the delicate, lovely, pellucid, heaven-manufac-
tured dew of the morning. It was thought, Mr. Chairman, some time ago
when an attempt was made to form a union under the name of the ‘Evan-
gelical Alliance,' that perhaps we should there find the dew-point; and we
certainly have groped for it, and sighed for it, and sometimes almost
imagined we had found it; but, somehow or other, it has eluded our grasp
and we have yet to discover the delicate dew-point of Christian union.
Well, I really think I have found it here. This is a great union; take care
you don't let anything occur to interfere with its existence as a union.*
"When I think of Sunday-school teachers and their work, their quiet,
unostentatious labours, and compare them with the labours of some
others whose operations fill a larger and more important place in the
public eye, I confess that the former rise before me invested with an ex-
traordinary charm and interest. Some grow old in dropping buckets
into empty wells and ever drawing nothing out, or in classifying butter-
flies, or arranging shells—beautiful in their way and interesting, but not
touching the moral character, not reaching to the crystal within. These
adornments of a secular or philosophical kind which we gather about us
on earth, are of value whilst we are here; they throw a charm about life
and sweeten our lot, but they do nothing for us as heirs of immortality.
Regard, then, the moral and spiritual character of your Sunday scholars,
remembering that you are indeed working for eternity, so that when you
come to stand before Christ you may hear him say, 'Inasmuch as ye did
it unto one of these little ones, ye did it unto me.'
These quotations afford but a very weak and imperfect
idea of the power and beauty of many of Dr. Beaumont's
speeches, which it would be vain indeed to attempt efficiently
* This Sunday-school Union is supported by the various Evangelical
Churches in England in concert.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
201
•
to illustrate by such extracts. Those passages which are
accessible or suitable for quotation are not always in them-
selves the most perfect examples of his style; they of course
lose very much of their character and meaning when dis-
severed from the context; and, beyond this, perhaps no
orations would suffer more detraction from their force and
charm than would his by being reproduced without the
peculiar accompaniments of manner and delivery with which
they were originally uttered, and which were in his case not
only masterly but were adapted with the greatest art to the
subject and substance of his speeches. His public labours
however showed him to be most truly and emphatically
"an eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures."
202
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
CHAPTER XI.
1839-1841.
In the Liverpool South Circuit, in which Dr. Beaumont
was located from September 1839 for the usual period of
three years, he found an ample field for his exertions. It
opened to him an extensive and influential society within the
bounds of his own church, and also abundant scope for evan-
gelical aggression and for advancing the prosperity and success
of the Church of Christ. With some of his colleagues in Liver-
pool he had been previously connected or was destined again to
meet in public life, and he was fortunate in his conjunction with
them. The late Mr. Vevers, and Messrs. Squance, Nelson
and Brown were during one portion or another of his time
appointed with him to this circuit, as well as Mr. Hargreaves,
who during the last few months of the Doctor's life was again
a co-worker with him and displayed towards him in his illness
and towards his family in their bereavement the most affec-
tionate and unwearying kindness and sympathy.
In Liverpool Dr. Beaumont was of course well known pre-
viously to his appointment there; in no place in which he ever
travelled did he find a more warm and affectionate recep-
tion, and he realised there a very large and gratifying
measure of success and beneficial influence. During the six
years which he spent in the two Liverpool circuits, he possibly
extended his itinerant and extraordinary labours more widely
and constantly than at any period of his life; and it was cer-
tainly a great tribute to the esteem in which he was held by
congregations which were accustomed to place considerable
stress upon their own requirements and to the efficient mode
in which, notwithstanding all his foreign engagements, he ful-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
203
filled his own circuit duties, that a frequency of absence
which naturally, in ordinary cases, was calculated to produce
discontent and murmurs was acquiesced in with affectionate
willingness, and that this was indeed a period of great pros-
perity in the history of Methodism in Liverpool. On his
removal in 1842 from the South to the North circuit in that
town, as on some other occasions when he was requested to
travel in other circuits, the Doctor was asked to agree to
restrict his occasional absence within some limits. His uni-
form reply to such suggestions was that he could make no
pledge of the kind, that he most carefully consulted and
fostered the interests of his own particular people and would
not shrink from the responsibility of any neglect which
they might conceive themselves exposed to but which he
had never incurred even the accusation of; but that, while
he was the located minister of a particular circuit, he had
also he conceived duties towards the Church and world at
large which he could not forego, and that under these cir-
cumstances if any society asked him to minister to them they
must allow him to perform his duties according to his own
discretion and not under any obligation of the kind proposed.
Nor did this reply produce in that or any other instance any
change in the anxiety of the applicants to secure his services
without imposing any such condition.
Notice has already been taken of his readiness to afford his
advice even to strangers who consulted him and of the fre-
quency with which his friends and others availed themselves
of his judgment and kindness, and a letter addressed to a
lady with regard to the education of her son has shown the
pains which he took in satisfying such calls. He felt a pecu-
liar interest in the young, as has been noticed, but the follow-
ing letter (which was addressed to the son of an old and valued
friend, one who was cut off in the promise of his early man-
hood when about to enter the Wesleyan ministry) is another
striking illustration of these features of his character.
TO MR. ROBERT LOCKING.
“7 Wesley Street, Liverpool, 19th October, 1839.
"My dear Sir,—I am sure that you must have felt grieved with me
for not having written to you long ere this time in reply to your excellent
letter which I received at the end of June. Your dear parents too have
204
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
I fear experienced some pain of mind in consequence of my apparent
neglect of your case and circumstances, and the more justly so as I par-
ticularly invited and urged you to communicate with me on the subject
of your important destiny in life. My only explanation of this blame-
able delay (for so I feel it) on my part, is that your letter reached me
when I was in the throng of public engagements from home, that on my
return I had much urgent circuit duty to clear off preparatory to my
leaving it for Conference, that I was obliged to be absent several weeks
thereat, that on my return to London every moment was occupied in get-
ting ready for my transit to this place, and that since my arrival in
Liverpool, I have been in one continued bustle and confusion until now.
This indeed is the first day that I have sat down in my new study since
it ceased to be a perfect chaos; and, though it is Saturday, and I feel my
preparations for the coming sacred day very imperfect, I cannot longer
endure to remain in the light, or rather in the darkness, in which my
silence must have presented me to your own view and that of your excel-
lent parents. The fact is that on reading your letter, which does you
great credit, both as to the correctness of your sentiments, and the degree
of your acquirements, I was wishful to command leisure to inscribe a
lengthened and minute reply to the important points which are contained
in your communication--and now, after waiting months for such leisure,
I am proceeding to address to you a few lines, without realising any of
my intentions and purposes as to the manner of my address, and the
length to which I wished it to have extended.
"
'Your free and full and correct admissions on the preeminent import-
ance to be given in all our views of the Christian ministry to personal
piety and its constant cultivation preclude the necessity of my urging
that on your attention. Though it is not everything in the qualifications
for such a vocation, everything else without it is nothing. Read the
Bible much for your own personal edification, and read it with prayer:
let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom that you may be-
come a man of God, thoroughly furnished unto all good works. To be
mighty in the Scriptures' is a great advantage to, a worthy commenda-
tion of, a minister of Christ.
"Seek and obtain a familiar, intimate, complete, conscious possession,
and mastery (so to speak) of the capital truths, the first principles, the
cardinal doctrines, the grand elements of the Christian faith. These are
the weapons of your warfare, and you must be able to use them readily,
vigorously, authoritatively. The capital charm and power of good Me-
thodist preaching was from the beginning, and still is, and I trust will
continue to be a manly, clear, earnest, unequivocal, positive declaration
of repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus, a warm and bold
enunciation of justification and sanctification.
Next in order of practical value, I am disposed to place the acquisition
of general knowledge, the knowledge of men and things, of history and
philosophy; and, besides the acquisition of general history and the study
of mental philosophy and of logic, I lay great stress on natural history
*
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
205
and natural philosophy. No doubt he is a learned man that knows
words, but he is a wise man that knows things. And with this view
the popular lectures which are delivered on general science are well worth
your attendance and will more than repay it.
"As to languages, you should just acquire as much and as many of
them as is practicable, and compatible with your attainment of that which
I have ventured, contrary to many learned authorities, to place before
them. A good knowledge of Latin is important, and the very processes
and labour of mind, the ploughing and cross-ploughing of the faculties
involved in obtaining it strengthen and invigorate the mind itself;
no man can have any pretensions to scholarship, or have foundation for
its superstructure, or hold fellowship with its possessors who is ignorant
of Latin.
"The value of Greek will be very considerable to you as a biblical
student and a candidate for the Christian ministry. German is rich in
philosophy and eloquence, and is undoubtedly a desideratum. French is
an accomplishment and a convenience; and Hebrew is a high and sacred
attainment for a divine, a noble and venerable inheritance. Read good
English authors, and some good poets-the latter, that your mind and
ear may catch their harmonious numbers and may be attuned to their
capital rhythm as well as their fine thoughts.
"And now, I began this letter with an intention of specifying some
books on general subjects that might be useful to you, but their enume-
ration must lie over for another letter with which I perhaps may trouble
you by and bye, if yourself and your father and mother can forgive my
long delay in forwarding an acknowledgment of the communication with
which you favoured me. With love to them,
"I am, dear Sir, your sincere friend,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The following quotations are made from another letter to
the same young friend in which he recommends to him a
curriculum for adoption in order to fit for the clerical office
one whose education had not theretofore had any special direc-
tion. The letter is very long and evidently written very hastily
but, though it rather indicates merely the heads of study than
lays down a complete plan, parts of it illustrate his views as
to the requirements for the ministry. He again lays stress
it will be seen on his favourite natural sciences, as to which
he writes as follows:-
"On this subject' Playfair's Outlines' is a valuable book, constituting
a syllabus full of references. Professor Whewell's is a good book. Mrs.
Somerville's Connexion of the Physical Sciences' is distinguished by
great penetration as well as by the more ordinary graces of feminine ex-
cellence. There is a small pamphlet by Sir J. Herschell on the 'Study
206
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
}
of Natural Philosophy' which will more than repay the trouble of obtain-
ing and reading it. Hutton's Dictionary, though called mathematical, is
also philosophical, and Barlow's Mathematical and Philosophical Dic-
tionary contains much information in little compass. Dr. Robinson's
Mechanical Philosophy contains most useful information on almost every
branch of science, and on astronomy is one of the best books in our
language.
These are studies in which much intellectual
gratification and invigoration will be reaped. Knowledge-such know-
ledge is good and pleasant. Perhaps the fiction of Homer did not give
him such rapture as the Principia of Newton furnished to their illustrious
author, whose works, thoughts and words are dilating the minds of mil-
lions. Let a man imbue his mind with the principles of physical and
intellectual truth, and should he be found on the Alps and Andes, he can
reproduce the formulæ. Knowledge is that of which, when once pos-
sessed, the intellect cannot be robbed, but always remember that it is
desirable to store your intellect rather than your memory. It will be
well that you should endeavour to overcome the rudiments of whatever
you design to acquire as soon as you can though they be not of present
use, for you will find them more tiresome when you are older. Recre-
ative studies should not be neglected, and among these I reckon history
and geography. Without the knowledge of the former you cannot rank
as a scholar, and without acquaintance with the latter you must often
feel yourself at fault on subjects of everyday interest and recurrence.
“I need not enumerate the theological works of our own communion
-you are already sufficiently well acquainted with the names of Wesley,
Fletcher, Benson, Clarke and Watson to render any reference of mine at
all necessary. I will mention a few works which occur to my recollec-
tion at the moment on theological literature in general: Campbell on
Miracles; Leslie's Truth of Christianity Vindicated,' and his 'Short
Method with the Deist;' Scott's Truth of the Christian Religion;'
Louth on Inspiration; Leland's 'Divine Authority of the Old and New
Testament;' Stillingfleet's' Origines Sacræ.'
"On practical and pastoral duties there are Scougall's 'Life of God
in the Soul of Man,' by Bishop Burnet; Scott's Christian Life;' Bur-
net's 'Pastoral Care;' Baxter's Christian Directory.' On ecclesiastical
history Mosheim's is upon the whole the best work within moderate reach;
Dupin's Abridgement is good; the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius, in
which are many considerable fragments of ancient authors, is a great
work; Burnet's Reformation and Millar's 'History of Christianity' are
useful works; and Milner's Church History presents the course of true
spiritual religion. On the doctrines and institutes of religion Sherlock's
Discourses, Stillingfleet's, Tillotson's, Barrow's, Atterbury's, Secker's,
Jeremy Taylor's, as well as others, are rich compositions. Jeremy Tay-
lor's 'Life of Christ' is valuable, and all his works are stored with thought
and eloquence. Leigh's Critica Sacra' and Poole's Synopsis are learned
and extended works, requiring a tolerable degree of scholarship and lei-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
207
sure to handle with advantage. Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity' is a ma-
jestic work-to be read hereafter in favourable circumstances. Baxter
is an incomparable writer, and cannot be read without profit to head and
heart; and of Nonconformist writers there are many noble names.
Howe's 'Living Temple' is a production of a great mind and powerful
eloquence; and Charnock, Bates, and others are capital.
But I will stop, or else you will be confused. Again I say, these
works are not to be read at once, they are the accumulation of many
years. Read such of them as may from time to time fall in your way.
Collect and take in all you can; have your paper books by you to note
and compare, and exercise your own conjectures concerning what is sin-
gular and worthy of especial observation, for then you will benefit by
what you read when you read with design and observation."
The kind adviser proceeds to discuss the lighter and more
general studies, and his young friend's duties and prospects
with regard to the Christian ministry, giving him in no stinted
measure the results of his own experience and judgment. In
short, this letter is a remarkable instance of the kindliness
which it has been seen made him ever ready to encourage the
young in the path of their duty.
In the course of Dr. Beaumont's journeyings he was ex-
posed to frequent perils of various kinds; indeed he had so
many accidents and so many near escapes by land and by
water, in private and public conveyances, from his first ad-
venture in riding from Buxton to Macclesfield to his preser-
vation from the dangers of a railway collision in the last year of
his life that, though he never suffered to any very serious extent
from any of his travels, he seems to have experienced much
above the average proportion of such risks. In the autumn
of 1839 he experienced considerable inconvenience from the
upsetting of the mail by which he was returning from Scot-
land, and on that occasion he had a narrow escape of more
serious consequences. But only a few weeks afterwards he
met in one of his journeys with another mischance, the effects
of which on him were somewhat more protracted and severe,
though he was fortunate in this instance also to escape as he
did. A friend was proceeding with him to meet a train when
their horse took fright, upset the gig in which they were driv-
ing and summarily ejected its occupants. Dr. Beaumont was
precipitated head foremost against a heap of stones lying at
the side of the road and, from his position in falling, he felt
›
208
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
at the time that the event would probably be fatal; but hap-
pily this was not so, as his shoulder sustained the chief con-
cussion, and itself, remarkably enough as it was considered,
escaped dislocation.
The effect of this contusion he did not fully experience at
first, and though his physician ordered him to take entire
rest, he left his bed almost immediately to fulfil a particular
preaching engagement at Leeds, as to which he was extremely
unwilling to cause disappointment. The physician, as soon
as he learned what his patient had done, wrote after him a
letter urgently remonstrating on his imprudent rebellion, for
which he had in the result to suffer the heavy penalty of a
painful and protracted affection of his right arm. The fol-
lowing letter to his wife alludes to this unfortunate journey:-
'Leeds, 20th Dec., 1839.
C
-
My dear Susan,-On arriving at Manchester I was five minutes too
late for the coach that left at five, but was assured that by taking a fly I
should get in time to the railway station, before the train taking the
Leeds coach should start. I tried, and got to the office door just when
it was shut! I then returned to Manchester, drove to the inn whence the
mail starts, took my place in it, and left Manchester at half-past nine, and
arrived in Leeds at half-past three this morning. I went to bed at the
Rose and Crown, and got up at nine, took some breakfast and drove to
the New Chapel just after the arrival of Dr. Anderson's letter, when they
were considering what was to be done. I preached a sermon with the
arm in a sling, though I was not conscious of any obstruction in my
mind. I got through with at least my usual ease and was happy to be
able to preach as before. I am now suffering from the excitement,
though I think that I am as well as, all circumstances considered, can be
expected. I have just now sent for an able surgeon, and am waiting his
arrival and, if he comes before it is time to close this letter, I will give you
his report. I suffered a good deal upon the journey-both by rail to
Manchester, and by mail thence to Leeds. The mail was full, and the
jolting dreadful, at least so I felt it.
"I shall return home direct from Leeds, and hope to be with you to-
morrow, please God.
Quarter-past six o'clock.
"Mr. Smith, a very able surgeon here, has been subjecting me to the
manipulations of a close examination—and says that there is no dislo-
cation and no fracture,' that it is a severe contusion, which is bad enough,
and very bad; that I must have rest for a fortnight and so on and so on.
"I am thankful to have this report to make. With love to all the
children, I am yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
209
*
The following letter was addressed to his second daughter,
who had remained at school in London upon the removal of
the family to Liverpool :-
"Liverpool, 8th Feb., 1840.
My dear Fanny,-As our charming Queen is to be married on Mon-
day next I suppose that you may have that day as a holiday and as you
may perhaps stir abroad with some of your friends it is possible that you
may not find some money disagreeable; so I enclose you some, and when
you desire more, write to me without hesitation and I will send what you
want. I am happy to learn from your letters that you are again at your
duties at school, and as this is your last term I trust that your progress
may at once be such as to gratify us and be of service to your comfort
and welfare throughout your future life. You must exert yourself, work
your mind and stretch forward. Time flies, and you will soon join our
family and take your place among the women of England,' and we
shall all be happy to welcome you to Liverpool.
"I expect, if all be well, to be in London towards the end of June,
and shall perhaps be able so to arrange as to bring you down with me.
Whilst prosecuting your studies and seeking improvement in manner,
character and attainments, cherish the fear of God, read your Bible and
do not neglect prayer. Religion is the happiness and ornament of the
life of a human being, and the earlier and more regularly it is experienced
the more will our Heavenly Father be pleased, and the real satisfaction
and safety of the individual be secured.
"The wisest of men says that the conclusion, the sum of all excellence
and wisdom is to fear God and keep His commandments. Therefore whilst
'attending with zeal and care and perseverance to all the instructions that
you receive from your teachers and masters you will always recollect that
we have all a Teacher and a Master in heaven. To Him you will look and
pray; seek the grace of God, highly value it, and be a worker together
with it, that you may not receive it in vain.
-
"God bless you and preserve you! So wishes and prays
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In one of Dr. Beaumont's letters of this date he writes to a
friend thus:-
"I am obliged, much obliged by your letter, but not till a few days
ago was I made acquainted with your late mournful bereavement. I was
startled and felt afflicted in your affliction, and should have written to you
thereupon, but thought it probable you might be in London, drawn
thither by the sad occasion. I need not say how much I sympathise with
you in this painful event, albeit wholly ignorant of all circumstances
P
210
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
}
leading to or connected with it. But death is a land of darkness-with-
out order!' I am much gratified to find that your mind is so strongly
set in the direction where alone real satisfaction, repose and elevation are
to be found; and thus tribulation worketh patience, patience experience,
and experience hope.' Death has not yet been permitted to touch my
family, and herein I rejoice though with trembling! I look upon its nu-
merous and advancing members with a swelling heart that shrinks at the
thought that it will-it must be invaded by 'the king of terrors.' What
profound mystery envelopes the question-to which of us shall his relent-
less, unerring dart be first addressed? Lord, is it I? Oh, to be prepared
for the shock! What a sublime subject is one's moral improvement,
spiritual progression, evangelical holiness-to be perfect in Christ Jesus!
God grant that when the summons comes to depart-comes to me, to
mine, to you-we may be found possessed of that purity of heart of
which you speak, that patent to a bright, beauteous, holy eternity."
The period of his residence in Liverpool was an important
epoch in his domestic life. Several of his children here
attained mature years, and the consequences which this
involved, as well as the hand of death, made serious changes
at his hearth. He considered that home was far the most
advantageous school for women but, as his daughters succes-
sively grew to womanhood, he was unable to secure for them
under his own roof the advantages which he desired they
should avail themselves of, and accordingly he placed them to
complete their education at a school in London. These sepa-
rations he felt to a degree which may be thought by many to
indicate weakness; but though his heart was very tender,
though nothing human was foreign to him, he never allowed
his tenderness to interfere with his judgment.
He was
induced also in the year 1840 by various reasons to place his
eldest son, who writes these pages, at his own old school,
Kingswood, and the following letter to his wife alludes to a
little matter in which his intercession had been sought by the
writer on behalf of his schoolfellows. The regulations at
that institution still partook somewhat in certain particulars
of the ancient rigidity which in Dr. Beaumont's own time
had been there carried to such an extreme as has been men-
tioned. Amongst these particulars was that of the corre-
spondence of the boys, which was at the period now alluded
to conducted (even as to communications between them and
their parents) under the most stringent restrictions and sur-
veillance. This did not accord at all with the ideas in which
.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT:
211-
the writer had been educated and, as the discipline of the
school was ultimately under the superintendence of the Con-
ference, he made urgent representations to his father on this
and some similar points, in the full confidence that the latter
would not deem such trifles beneath his attention, a confi-
dence which the subjoined letter shows was not disappointed.
Dr. Beaumont's name was indeed a sort of charm at the
school-whenever he visited it, happy was the lad who had
the good fortune to receive his notice.
'My dear Susan,—
"Newcastle-on-Tyne, August 12th, 1840.
“I am glad to learn that you safely arrived at Rhyll, and if you are
happy there I shall be truly happy. I trust that the health of the
children will be promoted, and that altogether you will not regret your
trip, and I shall be glad indeed to see you all safe and sound and im-
proved in body, soul and spirit, once more in Liverpool. I do not expect
to leave this until Saturday, when I go to Halifax, where I preach on
Sunday; on Monday I go to Dudley, and pass on to Cheltenham, where
I have to open a chapel, so that I shall not see Liverpool till Saturday,
the 22nd inst. As tickets will then be throng,' I can scarcely reckon on
the pleasure of seeing you at all at Rhyll, considering the length of my
absence now. The whole of my first week in Liverpool ticket-giving will
occupy me, but I must do what I can so to arrange matters for the week
following as to get over the water to see you next Monday week if the
packet suits, and must return at the latest on the Saturday following.
However I am not yet certain that this is practicable, but if it shall be
so I shall be glad to come and see how you are all faring in Wales.
You must make the best of your time and gather up all the health and
strength and spirits that you can.
"As to Conference, I have not time to refer to it. I laboured quite as
hard as ever, and have the credit or the blame of tearing the gown to
pieces.*
“As to J.—I feel more than I like. I brought forward in the Confer-
* This alludes to an attempt which was made by some of the Wesleyan
ministers to introduce the use of gowns by their order—an attempt which
Dr. Beaumont vigorously opposed, not that he loved the gown less, but
that he loved Methodism more. The views which he held of the special
position which Methodism occupied and the features which were essen-
tial to it have been already mentioned. He had no objection whatever
to a gown in itself, but, introduced into the Wesleyan pulpits, he thought
it would have an indirect effect inconsistent with the real position of
Wesleyan ministers, and the true nature of the Wesleyan society.
212
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
ence the subject of letter-writing, and moved that, as the penny post was
now in action, the boys in the schools should write home more frequently,
and thought and said that they ought to be allowed to write without any
rigid surveillance, that their parents might really see the buddings of
their intellect and know the breathings of their hearts. The proposal
that they shall write home every month was agreed to, but I fear that
practically their letters, by being copies, are of very little value. It is
not unlikely that I shall contrive to see my dear fellow at the end of
September. Of course I am not in 'the hundred.'
You should all stir abroad while at Rhyll, if you can and as much as
you can, to see the Vale of Clwyd and the other surrounding beauties.
Write to me to Liverpool acknowledging the receipt of this. Of my dear
lad I am trying to hope well.
"I have not time to add more; but, with love to all,
"I am affectionately yours,
"Jos. BEAUMONT.'
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
"Liverpool, 24th August, 1840.
'My dear Friend, I reached Cheltenham about nine, and was quite
at fault. I did not know the residence of a single individual in the
place; I was not met by any one, and felt, for the moment, chagrined.
But I recollected reading more than twenty years ago in the life of
Spencer of this place that, on his arriving at some town to which he had
gone to preach, as I had gone to C., he was met at the coach by nobody,
and, on this sad incident befalling him, he permitted a small stream of
lamentation, not untinctured with a dash of bitterness, to escape from
his reverenceship which seemed weak enough.
"This recollection came upon me most opportunely whilst I was
inquiring in vain at the George Inn for the address of the Rev. Mr.
McOwan, Wesleyan minister.' Finding that I might just as well have
asked for the fifty-fifth great-grandson of the longest-lived man that had
as yet graced our planet with his well-elongated existence, I posted off at
length to the Post-office, there to speer and to ken (as my country friends
in the broad lands of bonnie Scotland would say) where the Rev, Mr.
McOwan lived. The pleasant sound Gloucester Street' having been
shot at me through a wooden aperture (or at least an aperture in wood)
in the said Post-office, I got upon the right scent, and after this détour
and that, I succeeded in getting to the worthy minister's, and by him was
guided to Mr. Jerram's. (Dear me-how long I have been in saying
that which one line and a half ought to have told!) Well, I got through
my arduous public work at Cheltenham, though not without suffering
from the labour with which I exerted my body and soul in opening that
new chapel.
"Yours very faithfully,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
213
TO HIS WIFE.
My dear Susan,
Liverpool, 24th August, 1840.
"I have a secret intention of trying to get a 'supply' for my next
Sunday, provided that I can do so satisfactorily; and if I can succeed, I
shall get over to you on Friday or Saturday next—and hope to have the
happiness of remaining with you a week, and of bringing you back,
should you happen to be tired of Rhyll, when I return from it. I shall
be glad to be with you, and I think you and the children will be more
happy with me than without me-you see of what consequence I make
myself! Should I be able to join you, we must contrive to see the vale
of Clwyd and the other lions.'
66
I arrived at Liverpool on Saturday night at nine, and called at Mr.
Johnson's; both he and his wife had just gone out but I waited their
return—when, as they pressed me to remain, and it was so late, I yielded,
and slept there. On Sunday morning I went over to Wesley Street, after
breakfast.
+
"I did not like ; she is too cold, formal, mechanical, conse-
quential, political and ecclesiastical, to suit my taste. I like heart, heat,
feeling and good sense, and all stiffness and prim, set, icy, pretended state
may go to the dogs for me, as it is really most opposite to good breeding
and good manners.
“As you may feel dull, in spite of all the charms of Rhyll's woods and
waters, I send you the 'Albion,' that you may know how the world is
going on.
“God bless you. Love to all.
I am affectionately yours,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
As nothing delighted Dr. Beaumont more than to join his
wife and children in any such domestic excursion to the sea
side or the country as is mentioned in this letter, and he
always endeavoured to command as many days as he could
secure from his work for the purpose, such periods were
some of the brightest and happiest times with his family, for
his presence had not only the charm which his parental posi-
tion and tenderness gave it, but he added immensely to the
resources and the pleasures of the party, as he was a most de-
lightful and amusing companion, ever full of good spirits,
humour, enterprise, curiosity and information. These social
qualities did not in Dr. Beaumont appear in the least undig-
nified, trivial or inconsistent with the spiritual religion which
214
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
he always manifested. Beautiful objects, whether in nature
or art, and the enjoyments of society appeared indeed to
draw him nearer to his God, for his mind seemed so charmed
by holy spells that whatever it touched turned to that eternal
treasure which neither moth nor rust doth corrupt. The
elevation and devotedness of his character impressed uni-
formly every society into which he entered. He had not a
symptom of what Carlyle vigorously calls "damnable, dead,
putrescent cant;" but-though he was beloved by all classes,
as much by the gay and worldly into whose society he might
be thrown as by the pious and even by the severe, who per-
haps never had loved any one before; though he was the de-
light of the young, the very soul of happiness and mirth and
enjoyment-he had the rare faculty of showing forth religion
in his daily life in the most attractive and impressive manner.
Without ever intruding sermons on inappropriate occasions
with the want of taste and manner which is not unfrequently
most injuriously displayed by excellent men, he was able by
an allusion, an assumption or a meditation, nay by his very
bearing and tone, to suffuse around him a sort of halo of re-
ligious feeling which never was felt to be out of place.
Many times might he have been observed in the ordinary
intercourse of life amongst persons who were themselves
at least indifferent to religious subjects and apt to ridicule
their introduction "out of church," and on such occasions
it was uniformly found that they felt most beneficially and
displayed unmistakeably the favourable influences which this
piety produced; and often have such persons remarked,
"When we meet Dr. Beaumont we understand what people
mean by talking about the influences of religion."" He
not only thought it out of taste to sermonise in general
society but he deemed it injurious also. To do so seemed
only to expose sacred subjects to the ridicule of the careless
without any benefit; but by a few incidental words he often
directed his companions' minds and indicated the frame of
his own.
One of his daughters remembers on an occasion
some years ago visiting with him in company with a friend
the St. Mary's Priory at York. Feasting with eager plea-
sure on the display of gorgeous colours made by a bed of
beautiful verbenas, he exclaimed " Upon my word, a man can
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
215
scarcely help taking off his hat before such exquisite creations
of the Almighty!" Reflections such as these he made not
with the chill of tone and sudden harshness of manner which
cause them often to jar the feelings and to be a drawback on
enjoyment, but rather with a manifest pleasure calculated to
enhance the gratification of the present as well as to exalt the
emotions; for his song was truly "I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will joy in the God of my salvation."
In the company of those whom he knew, he would often
make a more direct and elaborate application of everyday events
to the high end of illustrating the great religious truths which
were ever in his mind. One of his ministerial brethren, who
was at one time his colleague, himself a man of high sensibili-
ties and acquirements, has given the following account of an
occasion on which the Doctor introduced such a topic with the
greatest effect, àpropos of a mechanical process which they to-
gether witnessed. He writes-"On one occasion he came down
to Rochester from London early accompanied by one of his
daughters and, the services for which he was engaged being
fixed for afternoon and evening, we spent the morning in going
over Chatham Dockyard. He examined everything with the
eager interest of childhood and the keen intuition of genius. I
and Mr. Burton, the master rope-maker, who accompanied us,
were astonished at the insight with which he comprehended
every process at a glance. As we entered the smith's establish-
ment the shank of an anchor was just about to be hoisted out
of the furnace. The white-heat was by far the finest I ever saw
and the spectacle at once kindled the Doctor's imagination to
a like incandescence. His face almost transfigured by the
blinding, blasting glare, he stood amidst the swart and grim
forms of the anchor smiths and, undistracted by the thunder
of the steam hammer, discoursed most eloquently on the
Great White Throne and the Redeemer's raiment on the Holy
Mountain." Such observations as these by an ordinary man
or amidst a promiscuous company would only excite ridicule
and do injury, but, expressed in his own inimitable way,
to select companions and with circumstances and accessories.
such as in this instance existed, they naturally produced a
very striking effect.
In society generally Dr. Beaumont was the centre of every
216
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
·
circle which he entered. His conversation was marked by à
piquance and originality and a peculiar humour which gave it
a remarkable charm, and no one who spent two or three hours
in his company was likely ever to forget him. He was en-
tirely removed from that unfortunate class of social bores, the
great conversationalists of the Coleridge school, who treat
conversation as the art of self-display or as a system of lectur-
ing in which the most able or the most impudent may seize
on the rostrum and victimize an unhappy or indifferent audi-
ence. He, on the contrary, was studious to evoke the thoughts
and powers of others, thinking with Lord Bacon that "the
honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion, and again to
moderate and pass to somewhat else—for then a man leads the
dance;" and his bewitching affability frequently and indeed
almost without fail melted reserve which had been proof pos-
sibly against every form of attack. Rather than abuse con-
versation by engrossing it to himself he would prefer to remain
altogether silent, but, having command of a vast store of general
information and of a fund of anecdote, which he narrated with
unusual point and raciness, and being endowed with the valu-
able faculty of putting commonplace matters in a novel or
humorous light, he found everything he touched upon a fertile
subject for observation.
His humour, it has been said, was peculiar. He had
little of what is properly termed wit, and scarcely ever
made use of verbal jocularity, but by a certain manner of
speaking which approached the burlesque, though want-
ing in the extravagance and tedium of that style, he would
when that was his "vein" put his own table, a company
of friends or strangers, an ill-natured crowd, or a testy
custodian of some privilege or right which he wished
to acquire or contravene in a state of such self-enjoyment
that his presence had the effect of a bright sunny day on
all about him. A style such as this it is impossible to
describe or to illustrate; its essence was too volatile and
ethereal; and, as its exhibitions were the creatures of a mo-
ment, a sort of sunlight gilding the most trivial as well as the
greatest objects, they wanted that body and point which the
more regular forms of wit and humour assume, and by which
+
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
217
.
they are perpetuated.* No prudish or pedantic scruples kept
him from exercising and enjoying these gifts, for while no
man more constantly abstained from relaxing his dignity or
self-respect as a Christian gentleman, he agreed with the
sentiment expressed by the severe Pliny in one of his epistles,
"Ut in studiis sic in vitâ, pulcherrimum et humanissi-
mum existimo severitatem comitatemque miscere."† It
was one of his most frequent observations, and indeed it
may perhaps be said to have been his peculiar part in the
world to show, that the deeper the religion which a man ex-
periences the greater ought to be his lightsomeness, and that
the true Christian ought to be the gayest and happiest of
men.
The following series of letters to various correspondents con-
tains the narrative for some time of his uneventful but laborious
life and of some of the circumstances and feelings which marked
the period to which they belong. Some of them allude to the
illness of his eldest daughter, one who was gifted with every-
thing most calculated to endear her to her friends and whose
delicate health caused her family great anxiety and gave
* Perhaps Sydney Smith is the man of the public whose humour had
most of this character, united indeed with the faculties of a wit of the very
neatest and most finished school. Lady Holland has furnished in her
Memoirs of him some very amusing and elaborate specimens of this pe-
culiar humour, which were fortunately remembered in his family and
some of which might have most naturally come from the lips of Dr.
Beaumont.
+ On this subject the great Bishop Barrow says, " Allowable pleasantry
may be expedient to put the world out of conceit that all sober or good
men are a lumpish or sour people, that they can utter nothing but flat
and drowsy stuff"-and a far greater man, Lord Bacon, has said, “It is
good in discourse and speech of conversation to vary and intermingle
speech of the present occasion with arguments, tales with reasons, asking
of questions with telling of opinions and jest with earnest; for it is a
dull thing to tire and as we say now to jade anything too far." Lord
Bacon continues this passage with a sentiment which (bating somewhat
for the diminished criminality of scandalum magnatum) never failed to
regulate Dr. Beaumont's conversation. He says, "As for jest, there be
some things which ought to be privileged from it, namely, religion, matters
of state, great persons, any man's present business of importance, and any
case that deserveth pity. Yet there be some that think their wits have
been asleep except they dart out somewhat that is piquant and to the
quick. That is a vein which should be bridled."
218
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
rise to much alarm of fatal results long before it actually
eventuated in her premature death.
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
"
"C
'Rhyll, North Wales, 1 September, 1840.
'My dear Joseph,—And so, my dear boy, you have been more than a
month away from me and you have not yet had a line from your father,
though you have had letters, I understand, from mother and some of
your sisters. But though until now you have not received a letter from
me I have often talked of, prayed for and thought of you; and now I
gladly embrace the quiet retreat which I am enjoying at the sea-side for
a few days with all the family, yourself excepted, to write you a few lines.
The day that I parted from you I started from the Conference and re-
turned home only last Saturday week, or rather to Liverpool, for Wesley
Street was shut up, its inhabitants having all fled to Rhyll. Perhaps
you never heard of Rhyll before, nor did I until last week. It is a village
in North Wales, on the sea-side, where there are a good shore and sands,
favourable for bathing and exercise. It has become a place for visitors
but within half-a-dozen years, and would never have had this distinction
but for the power of steam, by means of which it is readily accessible. I
enjoy it much as it affords me perfect quiet (a thing very difficult for me
to obtain anywhere), and the weather is so beautiful. To-morrow, if it
be favourable, we intend to take a car and go to Denbigh, near which
resides Mr. Henshaw, but whether we shall find it practicable or con-
venient to go so far as his house I cannot say. Indeed all of us are quite
happy with our 'out,' and have no cause of regret but your absence, and
to this we reconcile ourselves as well as we can from the hope that you
are busily and profitably engaged with your studies and general school
duties. In these you must be diligent and laborious, and as you proceed
the labour and unpleasantness will decrease, at least the sense of labour,
while the consciousness of improvement and the prospect of success and
advantage will widen and brighten.
"Be respectful to your governor, and attentive and thankful to your
teachers, and above everything be mindful of your religious duties, re-
membering your Creator in the days of your youth. Be careful, very
careful of your conduct; be correct in your behaviour, and scrupulously
so in your language. Be composed in speaking and reading, and remem-
ber and rigorously act upon my instructions as to the management of
your breathing, as I shall much regret if, from any inattention on your
part, your difficulty of speaking should increase.
"Make yourself as happy as you can, and in a short time I hope to
come and see you, probably before many weeks pass over. I return to
Liverpool on Friday, and shall be glad to receive a long letter from you
by the end of the week. Write to me freely and fully, not a mere copy
of commonplace routine matter. I believe you will be permitted to
write home once a month. Your mother's, sisters' and Johnny's love,
with your affectionate father's."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
219
!
((
TO HIS WIFE.
"Liverpool, 7 September, 1840.
'My dear Susan,-I had a short run to Liverpool. We were not
more than three hours in making the passage. I met the landlord of the
'Manchester Arms' on board the packet at Rhyll and paid him for the
car, so that you have nothing to pay for that.
*
"It is Monday morning, and I am crowded with public work to be at-
tended to (I will not say done) somehow before night, including the
preparation of a sermon for and its delivery in Pitt Street Chapel this
evening. I preached in that chapel yesterday to two immense congre-
gations, gave tickets to five classes, and administered the Lord's Supper
to a great body of communicants (certainly work enough for one day
without reading prayers nearly an hour long). Indeed Heaven only
knows how I got through all; and, in addition, when I left the chapel at
half-past nine I went to visit a sick woman ill of a fever, and got to my
quarters at ten and a half o'clock at night, having commenced soon after
nine in the morning.
"Mrs. Rowley is coming to Liverpool, and I saw Emilius on Saturday
who tells me he has been looking out lodgings for her on the north
shore ; and she has written to say that, this being the case, she has some
thought of coming soon as the season is wearing away.
"All the empty houses in Wesley Street are still unlet, and I fear that
ours has a poor chance of procuring a tenant, and if so I fear we must
go on with it at least a while longer ourselves. I hope that you—the
children—so favoured as you are will all be very thankful and diligent
and obedient and healthy and happy after your six weeks' Rhylling it.
With love to all,
"I am yours affectionately,
"Jos. BEAUMONT.”
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
My dear Friend,-I am sorry not to have been able to answer your
last communication sooner, but the fact is, I cannot write to you at any
time or under any circumstances. A few lines of mere business I can of
course scribble to you as to another, but to reply to a letter of yours re-
quires thought, and time, and even circumstances congenial to so select
an occasion. It is not easy to pronounce a decisive deliverance on the
topic you have mooted, as to whether we may be possessors of thought
in its nascent state, denuded of the clothing of words with which it is
mostly invested and, as you seem to think, encrusted. Most philosophers
place the faculty of speech on a level in rank with that of thought; they
consider it (if I may so say) indigenous to the human being-i. e., the
thinking being-that it is the diagnostic mark of the genus homo; and
certainly, as far as our own known and therefore available experience
goes, thought and speech are nearly if not quite contemporaneous.
2
$220
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
E
"I am aware of lessening the force of my argument by the word 'nearly,"
as you may say, 'That will grant all that I desiderate, the power of think-
ing without being sensible of words clothing such thought'; yet still I
must say 'nearly,' for infants seem to think ere they have acquired the
power of forming articulate vocal sounds, there are ever and anon playing
over their soft, fresh features flickerings of pleasurable emotion, for the
creation of which angels I believe are considered responsible, but I know
not that the angels in this case are aught but the heavings and pulsations
of the young intellect within. Thought is strong and language is power-
ful but, as you say, not always powerful enough to absorb the former, nor
varied enough to form a drapery, an envelope for it, the fit of which is so
true and the symmetry so perfect that no connoisseur in the dress of that
child of mind, thought, can find fault. Language, our language, is the
product of our compound nature, but as I suppose, or rather hope, that
we shall be capable of thought and its expression even when our present
state of being is at an end-the one constituent part of our being may now
essay its wondrous power when the other, not its better half, is left behind.
Even an apostle speaks of groanings which cannot be uttered.'
"I have received a hearty, affectionate and unanimous invitation from
the Edinburgh quarterly-meeting for the third time, and strongly do I
incline to go once again to Auld Reekie-that much loved seat of learn-
ing and the sciences, my alma mater, where there are the most sensible
and kind people, and the ablest preachers in the world. Believe me
"Yours very affectionately,
"
My dear Friend,
TO THE SAME.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
"Dec. 19, 1840.
"Some time, say two months ago, I was called upon by Dr. Olin of
America, who was on his way back to that roomy country, after touring
it on the Continent to Rome, Geneva, the Levant and so on.
He was
chosen President of the Middleton University. He is a first-rate man-
intellectual, learned, commanding, solemn and vigorous, very tall in per-
son, and he seems to have a mind of similar height. He informed me
that he owed his conversion instrumentally to Dr. Adam Clarke's com-
mentary, which he formerly searched merely for the literature, philosophy,
history and criticism with which it is stored,' said he,' as the ark was
with all manner of seeds for the life of a new world,' and while reading
from that wonderful production he every now and then stumbled on a
portion of the commentary which struck his heart, and rushed with
mighty force through his conscience. So he was led to seek the truth
and that followed, which ever does follow the clearly apprehending and
really believing that truth as it is in Jesus-a new creation. He remarked
that the Bible, the Book of Discipline and Dr. Clarke's Commentary form
the library of the great body of the Methodists of America. The Com-
mentary,' he says, 'has an extraordinary hold and reception there.'
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
221.
:
"Lying in bed last night, unable to sleep from indisposition and
fatigue, I thought; and the thoughts which arose from some part of my-
self seemed to pass in review before some other part of the same self, to
which it gave sensible pleasure, and which in turn it addressed in admo-
nition. This philosophy of mind is a delicate, ethereal matter, to which
I must not venture to commit my feebleness; but it must be admitted
that it is a great happiness to perceive this mind at work within, though
its physiology, rationale and modus operandi are not seen; just as it is
a pleasure to the humble peasant to receive nourishment from the aliment
he consumes, though he knows nothing at all of the apparatus of assimi-
lation.
"True-better be a child of nature than of art; for in the latter case
it is but being the child of a child. There is a fulness in nature than
which there is no greater, unless it be the fulness of grace, though you
mention the fulness of mind and say truly that few things which we have
to do require its whole powers for their performance. We have more
mind than is wanted for common things, and for most uncommon things
also, just as we have more lungs than we need for ordinary respiration;
yet in violent actions and in running the surplus power is drawn upon,
and its use ascertained. So it seems with this more wonderful substance
the mind: we have more of it than is called on in every-day life, for com-
mon actions and ordinary discourse. We have enough for the extraordi-
nary as well as the ordinary, for the occult and profound, as well as the
palpable and superficial, the eternal as well as the fugitive-ay, for that
God and those immortal spirits and ministering angels by which (you
say) 'the sphere in which we move is filled,' as well as for the material
and the animal of which we are but too apt to think that sphere composed.
Yes, we have mind enough to traverse the earth, and the heaven of hea-
vens and the mysteries of the Christian faith, and much of the nature and
truth of the very Deity! You have spoken well too of the potency of
prayer-It has a wondrous power; it places us nearer the throne of
God'; and, depend upon it, we are never safe or happy but when in that
holy place. Hide us, O Jehovah, in thy pavilion! So prays
"Your affectionate friend,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS ELDEST SON..
"C
Liverpool, 25th December, 1840.
Joseph-my dear boy,—I have just returned from preaching at Pitt
Street Chapel this morning, and have to preach at the Mount Pleasant,
Chapel this evening, but I cannot avoid addressing to you a line on this
happy day, on which we especially commemorate the birth of our divine
Saviour. My dear son, the first wish of my heart concerning you is that
the salvation which Christ by coming into the world has purchased and
obtained, may be yours, in time, and throughout eternity. That blessed
Redeemer declares- I love them that love me and those that seek me
early shall find me.' Seek him, by prayer, by meditation, by reading-
£
:
+
222
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
searching the Scriptures which testify of him; and may God bless you
and make His rich grace to abound towards you, that you may gratefully,
adoringly, believingly and obediently remember your Creator now, in
the days of your youth.
"I will not say how happy we should all have been to have had you
with us to-day-we should then have eaten our Christmas pudding still
more pleasantly. But for the present we must endure separation, in the
hope that you may derive improvement and advantage from plodding on
in the ways and duties of the school at Kingswood. I am by no means
displeased that you have felt a wish to join us this Christmas. It is right
that we should feel such mutual regard and attachment, and it is pleasing
when they are properly expressed on both sides. I am quite glad to find
that you are better in health, and I trust that you will be preserved from
all sickness and that you will be saved from all evil. You are amongst
kind friends, and I trust will make yourself agreeable
giving little trouble and occasioning no uneasiness.
wherever you are, and treat all persons with respect.
to all about you,
Be at your ease
"Your mother continues very well, and we are all in health except dear
Rebecca, who is very delicate and feeble. She is a pious, excellent and
delightful daughter, and is much attached to you. Happy indeed shall I
be if, when you return home, you may find her in good health.
"Give my kind regards to Mr. and Mrs. Billinge and to Mr. Wood.
Write to me again before. you return to Kingswood, where you must be
as happy and as diligent as you can be.
"I must now close-wishing you all happiness during your visit at
Bristol. Johnny talks much about you, and I am glad that you did not
leave him until he knew and loved you so well. I am, dear Joseph,
"Your affectionate and approving father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS WIFE.
"6
Nottingham, 29th January, 1841.
My dear Susan,-I received yours this morning at 9 o'clock at Grant-
ham, just when I was leaving it. My intention is to return home on
Monday, as I am so anxious about Rebecca. I am resting to-night at
Nottingham at Mr. Tatham's, and shall proceed to Manchester to-morrow,
as I find that it would be all labour and fatigue to reach Liverpool before
Sunday, and I must, were I to do so, leave it again after a few hours for
Manchester. And altogether, as from your letter Rebecca does not seem
worse, I shall steer my way from this for my Sunday duty at Manchester.
“It is difficult to limit the promise which you have mentioned. Faith
can scarcely be properly put forth in such unfettered extension and power
as to the removal of sickness, as when it is directed to the salvation of the
soul. The latter must be good, altogether so-now and for ever good,
good in itself and in its bearings. Recovery from sickness may not be
good, really and for ever-the good may be but immediate, temporal
and partial, and we cannot tell the end from the beginning in this latter
་་
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
223
case.
Hence the qualification with which prayer and faith are put forth
for the healing of the sick. All is clouded as to Rebecca's case; we may
but hope and trust. I have as much hope at present about it as I have
had for some time. It is a great relief amidst so blighting a haze that
she is in Christ, on the rock, bound for the kingdom. All she has to do
is to hold fast the faith, to look up and patiently to submit to the discip-
line of a divine Father, of Him who does all things well. Love to her
and all. I am, dear Susan,
"C
Affectionately yours,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
Liverpool, 3rd February, 1841.
My dear Joseph,-By the time this comes to your hand, you will be
eleven years old, and I congratulate you on having been spared so many
years, although in some senses they are but few. In this space of time
you have seen more parts of the United Kingdom than many see in a life
of seventy years; you have generally been blessed with good health;
you have had many kind friends who have felt much pleasing interest in
your happiness and welfare, in your improvement and comfort; you have
had already great opportunities of acquiring knowledge and improvement,
intellectual and physical, moral and spiritual. You have been receiving
your education in Edinburgh and in London, in the vestibule of the
university of the former and in the London University School. In Liver-
pool too you had great advantages; and now you are at Kingswood where,
although you are deprived of some opportunities, you may make advances
in the solid branches of the mathematics and classics.
"I trust that on entering upon your twelfth year of age you will start
anew in a career of spirit and of labour, of zeal and diligence. Work hard,
and plod away and fag at it till you surmount difficulties and leave behind
you not only those of your fellow students who are younger and have had
less advantages and facilities than yourself for the acquisition of know-
ledge. Be not discouraged; have courage and breast away, that in mature
life you may shine as a scholar as well as be respected as a man of virtue
and religion. Some of the things which you are learning may not promise
to be of much use or advantage to you, as to the profession or business in
which you will hereafter have to engage. This may be so; but it does
not therefore follow that you need not learn those things. You have to
be educated with a twofold view. First, to be a fit man to take your part
with your fellow creatures in the great social walks of life: and, secondly,
you have to be a physician, or a lawyer, or a man of business; and thus
not only is the knowledge of languages, Greek and Latin especially, of
high value and interest, but you must be trained in arts and sciences as
well as in language.
And, I need scarcely say, along with each and all you must be educated
to be a Christian. I am glad that you pray to God-all blessings come
through that exercise; grace in the heart will not hinder, but will help
224
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
the accumulation and growth of knowledge in the head. I believe that
you once saw that great man Adam Clarke, and he says that when he be-
came truly religious and served God with fervency of spirit, he made the
more rapid progress in his studies. So it may be with you, and you must
work well your head and improve your capacity. My dear Joseph, I shall
be most happy to see you again, and trust that when that time shall come
I shall have cause to be gratified in finding that your improvement in
every department of knowledge taught in your present school has kept
pace with your growth in stature and bodily strength.
"I think I told you that you have now another brother; at present we
have not decided on the name by which he is to be known—whether
Robert or Henry or William or, which I think is your wish, Samuel.
But by the time that I write you next, this will be decided. Your dear
sister Rebecca has been ill ever since you left us for Kingswood. Lately
she has been very ill indeed-so much so that we have had many painful
fears lest she should not recover. For the last week I have thought she
is a little better, and I have now more hope of her recovery than I have
had for some months. She enjoys true religion, and the prospect of death
even at her early age presents to herself no gloom or sadness, though the
thought of her death is to us all most gloomy and sad. But I trust that Al-
mighty God will graciously spare her to us, and restore her to health and
strength. You know her worth and many great and rare excellencies,
and you are much loved by her. I hope that you will be permitted to
see each other after a few short months mutually to rejoice in and give
thanks for her restoration.
"I am, my dear boy,
"Your very affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS BROTHER THOMAS.
Liverpool, 5th March, 1841.
"Dear Brother,-Rebecca continues very ill, with little or no deterio-
ration or improvement. I think that when I wrote to you lately I said
that we thought she was taking more food and that so far matters had
assumed a tinge of hopefulness which we had not discerned so distinctly
for some time previously. She seldom sits up, and is a great but a
patient and self-possessed sufferer. We have humbly to wait still to see
what the will of the Lord is in this dispensation; but it is cheering
amidst affliction to know and feel assured that his thoughts towards us
herein are not thoughts of evil but of good.
"Susan and her youngling are doing well. With regard to alcoholic
drinks Susan says that you have complained more of ill health since you
have been teetotalling than ever you did before, though you were always
temperate!' I have read Macdonald's 'Apology' with entire satisfaction.
* A pamphlet in defence of teetotalism published by the Rev. G. B.
Macdonald.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
225
It is an admirably reasoned, fine-spirited, and effectively written tractate
on an interesting and important subject and cannot fail to do good to the
reader, and procure respect (not to say honour) to the writer, except
where he has to encounter the weak or the wicked. For my own part I
have long purposed something of the sort and to you I may say that the
chief reason why I have not accomplished it is that I have had so many
things to do, or rather try to do, in other ways, trying to do good or to
prevent evil, or what at least I believed and felt to be so, that I have had
as much to do as one small pair of brains and lungs and hands could
very well manage. Nor do I believe that I could have done the thing so
well as Macdonald has achieved it.
"I am yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
"P.S.-Rebecca considers herself worse to-day, but she is rich in hav-
ing that solid, believing interest in the Lord Jesus Christ that sets her
altogether free from anxiety on her own account and lifts her above all
love of life and all fear of death.
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
1, Wesley Street.
My dear Friend,-Your son, who took tea with us last evening, in-
forms me of some one going your way to-morrow and by him I hope to
send you all printed communications but, as he may not go direct, I
prefer transmitting my MS. by her Majesty's Royal Mail. I am as usual
overwhelmed by applications from all parts of the united kingdom, and
from all parties ecclesiastical and political, who seem to have no objec-
tion to my humble services when 'the wind has to be raised.' I think it
is said somewhere of the late Dr. Andrew Thomson of Edinburgh that,
when his services were wanted by those whom on public grounds he re-
sisted, he rendered them cheerfully. I need a little more of this nobility
of behaviour and magnanimity of conduct.
"There is no quarrelling with the theological sentiments avowed in
your last: only take care that the strength and decision of your pre-
ferences do not beget an antipathy to that which has a little more of the
qualities of excitement and bustle than comports with your affinities and
sensibilities. Take away excitement and fervour from Methodism, and
you would reduce it to and leave it a decent and respectable, but a
shrivelled, powerless and ever-diminishing thing. A calm, meditative,
lofty, reasoning, philosophic, thoughtful, soul-sublimating religion, is all
very well for those who have mind and education, and taste, and leisure;
but the multitude must be dealt with as such, and pressed and impressed,
according to the grossness and quantity and other circumstances, of their
aggregate bulk.
I hope you are well and will keep so for many long years to come :
and while thankful for the past, it is good to hope and quietly wait for the
Q
·
*
]
F
2
226
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
salvation of God for the future. Wishing you all the beatitudes and
many, many returns of the season, I am ever yours most truly,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS DAUGHTER FANNY.
66
Bishop Auckland.
"Dear Fanny,-I am very sorry that you did not accompany me hither
and I blame myself that I did not by a little gentle force compel you to
visit the North now. No time like time present. I have just been seeing
the Bishop's palace here-all beautiful and glorious is the place, and the
day fine, healthful, splendid.
“I have just received a note from the W.'s asking you to accompany
me there to-morrow-the R.'s will meet me at their house. Regrets it is
said are useless, but I hope they are not quite so for the future. You are
too nunnish, and the more you stir from home the better. I much wish
you to see and to be seen, to know people, things and places. You have
live and I hope will be happy.
“With love to all I am yours very affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
66
Edinburgh, April 19th, 1841.
"For your last, my dear friend, how much am I obliged to you, and if
in this there be not any particularly relevant response, it is because two
hundred miles stretch their tiresome length between it and myself, and I
cannot therefore from memory satisfactorily reply to it: and yet why
should I say tiresome length, seeing I had so much bliss on Saturday
while journeying amid some beautiful scenes of nature, lying between
Carlisle and this famed stone-and-intellect city, which is indeed more
the city of the sun' of mind than of matter, albeit here matter itself
seems proud, chiselled as its finest and hardest substances are into streets
of palaces, towered over as they are by the frown of the castle and smiled
upon by hills swelling in colossal grandeur and heaven-made beauty.
'Well, I was intending to say that I had intense delight in communing
with rivers and trees, and valleys and mountains-but rich, and sparkling,
and eddying, and ever-flowing as I felt the river which I gazed upon in its
infinite windings and lowly moanings; vast, gigantic, grand and sublime
as I felt to be the mountains in their loftiness; lovely and soft and home-
like as I felt to be the valleys along which we swept-commend me to the
trees which fringe those valleys and bedeck those mountain sides. Never
was I so delighted with the rich, luxuriant, lace-like festooned foliage of
the larch, or so much impressed by the heavy shade and matchless
symmetry and towering stateliness of the fir, as when gazing on those
noble vistas and mighty masses of our mother earth.
“ Yours ever faithfully,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
227
1
TO HIS WIFE.
Manchester, 10th August, 1841.
My dear Susan,-Why have I not had a line for some days? Let me
hear particularly how Rebecca is-and what are your wishes and inten-
tions as to taking her to the seaside now? I have seen Thomas but for a
moment since his visit to Liverpool, and of course had no opportunity of
conferring with him in the case of our beloved daughter. Oh, that our
Heavenly Father may be gracious unto us and, in the abundance of his
compassionate tenderness, turn the shadow of death with the morning.
"With best love to Rebecca and all my dear, dear children, dear
Susan,
"I remain, affectionately yours,
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO MRS. BOWLEY.
"1, Wesley-street, Liverpool.
My dear Friend,-I certainly had no apprehension that your indis-
position had assumed the serious and distressing form and degree im-
plied in your note which I received from Emilius' hand on Saturday,
and I am thankful that the change which you are experiencing is really
beneficial. Indeed it is the sort of change most likely to be of service-
touching at once as it does the body and its invisible tenant, the flesh
and its mysterious attaché. In truth until I received the lines from you
to which I have referred, I was not sure that I had not written in reply
to your last letter, so much have I been hurried, bewildered, perplexed
and (I had well nigh said) oppressed by the multitudinous affairs that
come upon me daily. Matters personal and relative, individual and do-
mestic, private and public, agreeable and distasteful, congenial and in-
congruous will keep crowding into and upon a point, and that point
myself, so that sometimes scarcely I know for a season whereabouts I am
and what I have done.
"As to what you said about presentiments, I am not aware now that
the words which escaped me when I last saw you, that were construed by
you to bear that sort of gloomy character, were really entitled thereto. The
utterance had not so high a specific gravity, nor had I all the amount of
heavy feeling and deep shade in and about my spirit when it proceeded
from my lips, which I fancy should accompany a presentiment. But
enough of this, and too much!
"I have this morning had my equanimity somewhat moved by a letter
from the officials in Edinburgh intimating that they are proceeding to
urge for my appointment there the next year. On many accounts
I should like it very well. For the education of my children that situa-
tion presents many advantages and inducements; and as to myself I
should be away from the ceaseless demand that is made upon me for
foreign service. But here my ministry is more numerously attended and
perhaps is exerting a more powerful influence than ever. Rebecca too
1
228
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
continues very ill, and has not been out of the house for the last ten
months until one day last week when I got her into a coach for an airing,
which she bore very ill, so that I do not feel that my way is quite clear
to go for the third time to 'Auld Reekie.'
"As to Conference, I look forward with but little satisfaction to its
meeting; but I suppose that I must attend that I may try in my place to
do good or to prevent what seems evil. I am appointed to preach at
Grosvenor Street on the 25th, and at Oldham Street on the 1st August.
You are aware that Mr. Lessey is dead, and now also Mr. Dawson. But
I will not dwell upon the solemn and the dark-oh, that with us at even-
ing time it may be light! But we are no longer young, and daily I feel
that I am not going to be young again-how happy that one may be
wise, holy, and useful, and that an immortal youth is to be had by be-
coming sinless! I have received a communication from the London dis-
trict-meeting touching the Takings.' I have been applied to for advice.
and to know my own course, but I have merely said that, without pledging
myself to any particular course, I shall act upon the principles which
have ever influenced me on public occasions. I leave home to-morrow
morning and return on Saturday, and leave again on the 24th for Man-
chester, where I shall be from two to three weeks.
6
"Ever yours faithfully,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The allusion which is made in the foregoing letters to "the
Takings" will be explained in the next chapter.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
229
CHAPTER XII.
1841-1842.
Ar the Conference of 1841 Dr. Beaumont had more than
ordinarily trying and arduous duties to perform. Various
questions of interest and importance which excited warm con-
troversy had again arisen in the Wesleyan community, as to
which Dr. Beaumont entertained his own views and found
himself at issue with the Wesleyan clerical assembly. Per-
sonal considerations were hotly entertained, occasioned by the
publication of a work commonly called the "Wesleyan
Takings," which comprised sketches of the leading Wesleyan
ministers by an anonymous author, one who was evidently in-
timately acquainted with the secrets of the Conference House,
and who pourtrayed his subjects with graphic power and cer-
tainly with perfect independence of the predominant in-
fluences in the Wesleyan Conference. These sketches were
seasoned with a very fair allowance of Attic salt and a vein of
irony and sarcasm pointed enough and sometimes almost bitter.
That they were the work of a man who loved Methodism there
can be no doubt, but their author had strong views upon mat-
ters of Wesleyan politics and made no half work with the expo-
sure of what he considered abuses. Whether this production
was fair and impartial or not is not here important, but cer-
tainly to the leading members of the Conference it gave such
extreme offence that a searching investigation was made as to
the author, who has however never been discovered and,
amongst other modes which were adopted to ascertain who
was guilty of the offence in question, was the requirement
from all the preachers of a declaration, the form of which
was prepared for the purpose of obtaining their disclaimer
230
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
of all concern in or knowledge of the authorship of the
"Takings."
To this suggestion Dr. Beaumont offered an uncompro-
mising opposition. Such declarations have in several other
instances, prior and subsequent to this occasion, been adopted
by the Wesleyan ministers, and in every case Dr. Beaumont
absolutely refused to sanction or in any way countenance
them and uniformly refused, at the cost of very considerable
personal suffering, to submit to any such test. He con-
sidered, quite apart from any other ecclesiastical or party
questions, that such measures were degrading to the inde-
pendence of the preachers, and inconsistent with the princi-
ples of liberty, fairness and Christianity. He himself had
no vestige of personal interest in the matter; for he had
really no concern whatever in and no knowledge of the
authors of the work, and he never displayed any hesitation
in disclaiming any such concern or knowledge either spon-
taneously or upon any application which his self-respect and
independence could allow him to entertain. It will be seen
that the questions at issue in this case were mainly per-
sonal, and therefore it will be supposed that no small amount
of heat was exhibited; but, though the original subject of dif-
ference was such as he thought little of, he thought much of
some of its consequences, and he sustained manfully a great
amount of odium which his independent and steadfast course
exposed him to.
The sombre tone of the following letter, addressed to Mrs.
Rowley, shows how deeply the continued troubled state of
Methodism affected his sensitive and devoted heart.
"Birmingham, August 16, 1841.
'My dear Friend,—In all and sundry epistolary streams with which
you have, during a season of great labour, refreshed my spirit, I am
deeply obliged to you. I cannot now take up the subject to which you
have again adverted. It involves the very metaphysics of theology, the
profundity of God's ways to man, in the solemn workings of an infinite
Intellect amid finite, damaged, probationary intellects over which He
evermore presides. Oh! there was one who, enveloped in a more ghastly
gloom than that which veiled the shuddering heavens over Mount Cal-
vary, felt himself for some mysterious moments in the appalling condition
of a creature abandoned by his God and who, while a chill of unimagined
*
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
231
A
1
horror fell upon his spirit, exclaimed in his astonishment, My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me'!
Many things crowd in upon me just now, and some haunt me and at
times oppress the spirit. Oh, for a clear and steady light to flow down
ever from the Father of Lights upon my misty pathway in this troubled,
shadowy, solemn scene; but sometimes I feel as though I walk with
angels and with God, that I am a creature of eternity, though a tenant
and trustee of time. How is it that I cannot help thinking continually
and feeling depths within still deepening as I go? I do believe that suf-
fering strengthens the mind; that suffering for God and truth is as a
tonic to it; that suffering in the cause of Divine charity girds up the
loins of an intelligent agent. May the Almighty deign to accept my ser-
vices and use them for his glory; for my faculties and powers, endow-
ments and capabilities, such as they are, were not given me by man, nor
of men did I receive them, and therefore to God I devoutly consecrate all
I am!
'Many years ago, when I consulted the late Dr. Armstrong about the
state of my heart (then believed to be diseased), he said he would stake
his reputation that there was nothing the matter with my heart. Look-
ing at me intensely he said with firmness and warmth, 'There is nothing
the matter with your heart, but it is a large heart and it is a sensitive
heart.' I know nothing particular about its largeness-but with its
sensitiveness I have had some acquaintance, and that has laid heavy
burdens upon it! Believe me,
"Your affectionate friend,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
TO W. H. COZENS-HARDY, ESQ.
Manchester, 9th August, 1841.
'My dear Sir,-At the moment of receiving your letter under date of the
4th inst. I was so occupied as not to be able just then to reply to it, and
for the intervening days I have been so much and so anxiously occupied
that it has not occurred to me until this morning that your kind com-
munication has remained unanswered. I am glad to hear of your intended
trip into Wales, as I am certain that you will have much pleasure and
gratification and that you will derive much improvement and imbibe
much health and invigoration, physical and mental, from traversing such
scenes of great natural variety, beauty and sublimity as abound there.
I have to preach in Birmingham on Sabbath the 15th, but on the
22d I preach, God willing, in Wesley Chapel, Stanhope Street, at half-
past ten and at six; and should you and yours be in Liverpool I beg
that I may have the happiness of your company on that day at 1, Wesley
Street, should my family be in town at that time. They are meditating
clear of the time that
a seaside trip and I shall be glad if it shall steer
you may be in Liverpool.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
232
I seldom interfere in circuit appointments,* although I feel the great
obligation of my duty to prevent evil and promote good in the working
and application of great principles or small, by which the fortunes and
conditions of the Wesleyan body are affected in its relation to the pur-
poses for which the Christian ministry has been ordained by the Head of
the Church and in its relation to the welfare of the country.
“With great and high regard for Mrs. C. and your uncle,
(6
I am, my dear Sir, yours very sincerely,
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Liverpool, 26th August, 1841.
My dear Joseph,—I received your letter acknowledging the 'stations
and the flute which I sent to you from Manchester, and I am very happy
to learn that you are, in some degree at least, reconciled to your situation
at school. My dear boy, we all should be happy indeed to have you at
home, but at present we must hope that your advantage will be promoted
by your studying at Kingswood School. We never forget you, and I
trust and pray that God will bless you, that he will give you the grace of
his Holy Spirit, that you may grow good as well as wise, holy as well as
learned. Have patience, be diligent, and hope to the end. We shall
meet again ere long, if God will, to rejoice mutually with each other.
Your uncle Morton and his boy are here, having arrived last Saturday
morning from Ireland, and they leave on Monday morning next for Lon-
don, while I am going to Birmingham on Saturday and on Monday I wend
my way to Margate. Rebecca I hope is a little better, and next week all
are going to Bootle, going to lodgings there for a little while to try what
the sea air and bathing will do for them all, though all are well except
dear Rebecca, and I hope that a change of air will be beneficial even to
her.
66
Come, my dear boy, work hard at your books; be determined to
learn, strive to excel, and your labour will not be in vain. How long it
is since I was in the very situation that you now occupy! I do not know
when I shall be able to see you, as at present I have no engagement
which will take me to the west. But bye and bye I hope to do so. All
send love to you, and
I am your affectionate father,
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
"6
Liverpool, Nov. 1st, 1841.
"My dear Friend,—I am just returned from the realm of mountain, lake
and stream-the mountains are glorious, the lakes are beauteous, and the
streams are the children of the one and the parents of the other. The
* This refers to the subject of a particular appointment as to which Mr.
Cozens-Hardy had requested Dr. Beaumont's assistance in Conference.
LIFE OF DR.. BEAUMONT.
233
→
sense of power, vastness, energy, might, massiveness and plenteousness
which the mountains awake in the bosom and set a floating through the
nerves is truly exciting and gratifying. The Creator and the creation
come upon us with prodigious force in such scenes. The heights of
Skiddaw, of Helvellyn and Saddleback draw one's poor self somewhat
higher; their enduringness tells of eternity somewhere, though mortality
is here; their extent and quantity convey a most welcome notion of
fulness, sufficiency, abundance, nay, redundance; their varieties of form
and figure and outline realise the definition of beauty, 'variety in har-
mony;' their sterile aspect seems to say to man that it is enough for him
to look on them, and thence draw invigoration-power for his intellect,
without abstracting from their surface food for his flesh; and their
general insubordination to man's industrious hand and grasping com-
merce and all but almighty science cries aloud to him from the heights
of their untrodden, unbroken, unimagined solitudes, 'Thus far shalt
thou come and no further'-while their hidden contents who can con-
ceive? But as it is almost a law that where physical nature is barren
superficially it is stored with internal riches, what mineral treasures may
not those mountain masses contain? And thus it is with the dark and
gloomy and withering dispensations of Divine Providence; they look
dark and sterile and cheerless, but they are pregnant with themes and
lessons, rich and enduring as the most precious metals deep-embowelled
in the mighty mountains! May the treasures of the everlasting hills
be yours!
"Adieu!"
TO THE SAME.
1, Wesley-street, Nov. 8th, 1841.
"I just take the pen, my dear friend, to say that I reached home safely
and that yesterday I preached in the morning to a full audience on 1 Peter
iii. 18, and administered the sacrament to a large number of the Lord's
people. In the evening at Stanhope-street I preached from John xix. 30 to
a large congregation, and again administered the Lord's Supper to a great
body of communicants. In the morning the word was with power, and
at night there was a deep and solemn feeling; I felt vastly and spoke
strongly and I am sure affectionately. At nine o'clock as I left the
chapel I was asked to go and see a woman who was converted under my
ministry, and who was near death but said she could not die until she
had seen me. I found her in extremis, but capable of welcoming and
blessing me and testifying her faith in the Lord Jesus, and her victory
over the last enemy, through the blood of the cross. Oh, how she looked
at me and pressed my hand and thanked me! My dear friend, I am
mightily touched and strengthened by such proofs that God is with me,
and that I do not labour in vain: that I have seals to my ministry and
fruit both on earth and in heaven to attest the sowing of the incor-
ruptible seeds of the word of God. May that word dwell in you richly in
all wisdom!
234
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
"I have been waited on by some of the stewards of the Liverpool
North Circuit on the subject of my going there next year; but I found a
few started an objection to my 'being away so much.' My answer was
that I could say nothing on the subject; that I would form no contract-
make no bargain; that my absence had been over-rated; but that I
could not comply with any application requesting me to say how much
or how little I should be away, and so on.
“ Believe me yours very faithfully,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
Liverpool, Nov. 18th, 1841.
“I have decided upon going up to London and I set off to-morrow to
preach at City Road next Sabbath. You complain of being under Satur-
nine influence, and I am at this moment no stranger to its heavy pressure;
but all this oppressive and depressive state should be strongly and at once
resisted. On Sunday last I preached at Pitt-street chapel on 'He shall
swallow up death in victory,' and at night from Job xl. 4 and xlii. 5, 6.
I struggled with the great idea of the Idumean patriarch, that the
felt presence of God subdued him to penitence and lowly abasement and
that the presence of God in His physical perfections, in which the
power of Jehovah is so wondrously displayed; and then I argued that as
is His power, so is His purity, and hence the deep and salutary
impression described in the language from which I discoursed to the
people.
"I still suffer inconvenience from my cold: indeed I feel I shall not
be young again while consciously tenanting this the only planet with
which we have as yet any actual acquaintance and to which we shall I
fancy ever look back with regard, inasmuch as that, while traversing its
surface we became aware of and attached to so much of moral excellence
and intellectual worth and have thus formed here fellowships which must
be carried on for ever. What a merciful provision is the vdwp Zwns which
you so much desiderate-how satisfying to the capacity within-how it
slakes the thirst of the soul-how it lulls the swell of discontent and
appeases the otherwise unquenchable cravings of the immortal spirit!
Were it not for that Divine water, we must sigh for that of Lethe, but I
would fain regard every source of vexation and wave of trouble and flow
of bitterness as calling my spirit to drink more largely of the streams of
that river which makes glad the city of God—
'Spring up, oh well, I ever cry,
Spring up within my soul!
"On Friday I went to Chester to a Bible meeting over which the
Bishop presided; on leaving it my host was asked by a lady whether I
was the Dean as (sweet creature) she thought his lordship would not have
smiled as he did while speaking to me, were I less than a Dean! Well
I am sure that you will by this letter be convinced that I am, whether I
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
235
will it or not, thought-less! My spirit is dejected, yet I must have
replied something to your last, though I know not whether I shall be
able to send you an equivalent. 'Tis winter-how happy the state in
which there shall be no such thing! May we dwell
'Where everlasting spring abides
And never-withering flowers!'
To the Sun of righteousness I commend you!"
TO THE SAME.
66
London, November 22, 1841.
My dear Friend,-I received your communication of deep thought
and apt words in safety, and thank you much for it. Your steady
rational friendship I greatly treasure. The mind-great and indepen-
dent as it is, and mostly self-sufficient-must, at least while its local habi-
tation is a terrene star, and its instrument of manifestation is an organic
frame, have some visible, tangible, ponderable sample of fellow-feeling;
and such to me is your correspondence.
“But I must take some notice of yesterday in City-road Chapel. The
weather was disastrous and most forbidding; therefore in the morning
the chapel was not full, but the gospel I believe was there in its fulness,
not in word only but in power. I have seldom felt more deeply and de-
lightfully or spoken with more visible effect. The attention of the con-
gregation was solemn and affecting, and I can never forget it. The secre-
tion from a certain gland near the eye was manifested to a large extent
over the congregation-the flashes of truth, the tides of feeling, the emo-
tions of the preacher were spread over the audience, and not, I pray, in
vain.
'At night the chapel was crowded, and I preached with considerable
freedom and enlargement' from Phil. ii. 5, 11, but it was physically
impossible so to feel and speak as in the morning. Two such states and
conditions of mind and body, within six or seven hours are impossible.
Yet the immense assembly hung on the words that flowed for an hour
and twenty minutes and absorbed them as the thirsty land drinks in the
shower. The sermon in the morning was from Rom. iii. 22; and was an
hour and ten minutes in being delivered! Really there must be no small
elasticity in my personal substance to admit of these continued exertions.
Still I am dissatisfied with myself and would fain flee from all disquietude
and anxious care, from doubt and fear, from sin and hell, to that wondrous
ONE who rises on the soul and on the world with healing in his wings.
How perfectly, how consummately gigantically mysterious is the birth of
the Lord Jesus-and what prodigious consequences come of it! Let us
dwell and revel, feed and dilate in Love Divine, all loves excelling,' and
may the day star' arise in your heart, and may that throb and swell with
this ineffable divine love!
6
"Yours ever,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
236
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
#
+
J
C6
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
Liverpool, 7th December, 1841.
My dear Joseph,-I have been glad to receive your letters lately and
to learn that you are enjoying yourself. This greatly relieves my mind-
as I have but one great concern in reference to you, that you should be
happy, wise and good. Think, my dear boy, how time flies-school time
goes as fast as any other, as indeed appears from the date of this letter,
the first week in December having already gone. I should have written
to you sooner, but from the knowledge that you were not unfrequently
receiving letters and other communications from your mother and sisters.
You ask to come home at Christmas, and indeed we should all be as happy
and glad to see you as you would be to find yourself at 1 Wesley Street.
But I cannot say that your wish can be complied with. You know the dis-
tance and the expense of your coming backward and forward; and, were
you to come, you could not with propriety continue long with us as, in
that case, your time of schooling would be invaded and you would fall
back out of your proper place. Be assured therefore that, if I should ulti-
mately decide against your coming to us this Christmas, it is from no
want of affectionate interest in your welfare, but from prudential and
necessary considerations. However you shall hear from me again in a
fortnight.
"I trust that you are diligent in your school duties, as nothing will be
a substitute for application-vigorous, steady, determined application.
Difficulties must not be allowed to discourage you; energy and persever-
ance will overcome them. We are all well, I am happy to say, except
Rebecca, who has not been improving so far as we can perceive since her
return from Waterloo. How thankful should we who have health be for
so valuable a blessing. I was in London lately and saw Mr. and Mrs.
Bentley who inquired particularly after you, as also did Mr. Owen. While
you grow in stature take care that you also grow in wisdom, and not only
in favour with man but with God also. May He bless you!
"I am, your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
'Liverpool, December 15, 1841.
"My dear Friend,-Your letter addressed to me at Newtown reached
me duly at that place, and for that I must take leave to express my grate-
ful satisfaction though I fear, I know, that in me there is nothing to repay
the attention which so humble a subject of study has been honoured to
receive. I am pretty well satisfied that your taste and judgment are
correct in reference to the manner of my public addresses: yet I some-
times doubt whether I shall ever attain perfection in your sense, until I
· am too old to admit of such a degree of physical energy as gives rise to
the imperfections you allude to. I daresay what you advise as to the
modern crusade business is the very best thing to be done; yet there is a
suffering in it. But what a solace, what a balm in that affirmation of Him
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
237
who was made perfect through suffering: Blessed are they that suffer
for righteousness' sake.' But I am jealous over myself, I would that all
my motives were so many moral crystals; that all my feelings were so
many waves of sunlight. I would be thankful, pure, high, truthful, un-
tainted with self and pride! What a wise and necessary prescript of him
with the thorn in the flesh '-'Let no man think of himself more highly
than he ought to think; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others
better than he.'
"Indeed I cannot but think that were I more spiritual, more holy, I
should not need so frequently to be admonished. Yet is it not a wonder
that I, whom you knew five and twenty years ago as a young minister of
no pretensions, of little promise, and still less patronage, should against
strong counter influence have arrived at the position I now hold? In-
deed I cannot but rejoice, though with trembling, and humbly, honestly,
meekly and firmly would I in all devoutness exert my faculties, sustain
my responsibility, and execute my trust.
“A short time since, attending a meeting of trustees at Stanhope Street
chapel at which it was considered what was to be done to supply the
orchestra, I observed, that of course an organist must be had, but that
with a deficient income I did not consider they were justified in giving
salaries for hired singers, that such were not necessary, that the only part
of the service that especially required such singers was the chanting,
and, as chanting was objected to by many of the most devout persons of
the congregation, I thought it might be discontinued. Mr. Thomas
Kaye, one of the trustees, then avowed himself as having a preference for
chanting but, after distinctly declaring himself in favour of it, in the
most Christian and gentlemanly manner conceded that, as we could not
afford to pay for it, and as it was not contemplated when that chapel
was built, it ought to be discontinued. I believe the same view of
chanting was taken by Dr. Clarke as the one I expressed.
“I am taking your advice, and shall not leave home again for some
little time. I am sorry to hear that you are not well. Your more than
ordinary labour together with considerable mental anxiety will account
for this indisposition; but when the weather will admit of it take exercise
in the open air, and take more rest than you now allow yourself. Do
not work intemperately with your pen, or with your intellect. 's
letter to you is sensible, agreeable and kind, and I hope you may derive
some pleasure in this intercommunication. To the everlasting arms
commend you! Take care of yourself-live well and live for ever!”
TO THE SAME.
Liverpool, Jan. 1st, 1842.
My dear Friend,—I have many things to do, on this the first day of
a new year, but they must all wait awhile until I have acknowledged
your letter which reached my hand at Tutbury Castle. May the revolu-
tions of this our planet round the mighty sun, be many ere your hand
shall forget its cunning; and may he who formed it, hold you in his own
238
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
right hand, and infuse fresh streams of his intelligence and graciousness
and joyousness into your being; evermore surrounding it with his guar-
dianship, ennobling it with his truth and fulness, sublimating it with
his holiness, satisfying it with his goodness, doing for you exceeding
abundantly above all that I can ask or think.'
"I had been at Tutbury before, and surveyed the wondrous remaining
glories of its castle walls, which once inclosed high-born beauty, chivalry
and royalty and resounded with magnificent revelry; but the feeling 'sic
transit gloria mundi' overspread my contemplations. Though I felt that
there was a glorious mundus as well as a transit; yet even for matter to
perish seems not a very trifling affair. On Wednesday I proceeded to
Mayfield near Ashbourne, in the precincts of Dovedale, one of England's
charming, beautiful scenes, so dear to the mind and heart of all who are
removed above an animated clod.
“Within a few hundred yards of the chapel in which I preached is a
cottage, which was inhabited several years by Moore the poet and in
which he composed his 'Lalla Rookh.' It is now tenanted by a Methodist
farmer who fetched me from Tutbury but did not even tell me that his
dwelling place had been haunted by a spirit fresh with the dews of Par-
nassus! He stared when I presented myself after the afternoon service
upon his fairy ground. Cheeses are now produced, where splendid fancies
had their birth; and the locality in which Moore's genius caught and
displayed rare beauties is deserted. The charm of the place is de-
stroyed, yet I was not without the feeling that it possessed some real
interest, and I could not help tearing from a tree a branch not wholly
without a feeling that it partook of that interest arising from the bygone
inhabitation of the spot on which it grew. How all things change!
"When last summer I was in the same neighbourhood I was taken
within sight of the house in which Rousseau dwelt for long, and his 'cap'
is still in Derbyshire and treasured as a relic of departed greatness. Our
hemisphere does not present just now so many stars of the first mag-
nitude as in days which are past. Is it that our intellectual glory is
waning, that as a people we are falling into the 'sere and yellow leaf'?
But let me not complain or murmur; there is yet mind enough about us
to minister to improvement and gratification.
Your account of the sacramental festival I must notice on some
fitting occasion and at present will only say that I consider it a subject
of congratulation that you are susceptible of such emotions. The Earl
of Shrewsbury has just published an account of some ladies who are
entranced in their fellowship with Christian mysteries. What a mercy
that we can give a reason for the hope that is in us! The grace of our
Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit!"
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
"Liverpool, 4th Feb. 1842.
"My dear Joseph,-I am right glad to receive so good a letter from
you, and congratulate you on the success which your diligence and good
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
239
!
conduct have achieved, in the matter of the prize which has been awarded
you. Let it encourage you and stimulate you to still greater deeds—
push on, work away, till you are at the summit, for much is to be done
by a vigorous determination, a stedfast will. Be resolved to get forward,
and then take corresponding pains, and you will be conqueror, will
become a respectable scholar and then with God's grace you will be a
respected, a prosperous and a happy man. And all this before long too
for, as you say, you will be twelve years old to-morrow, and so many
years form no inconsiderable portion of the life of man, as you have so
well and pleasingly remarked..
I left
"I thank you for your sympathies concerning my perils by sea.
Belfast on Tuesday, the 25th ult., at seven in the evening in a steamer,
which by midnight was beset with a violent hurricane which continued
with more or less violence until Thursday morning, when, at ten o'clock
I landed at Liverpool, after having been exposed to the furious storm all
that while. There has not been so severe a gale since January 1839;
and very great damage ensued to shipping, and extensive loss of life,
but by the mercy of God I was preserved. We were in imminent danger
of being driven on the banks that lie off the Welsh coast, along which we
were beating about a good part of the second night. I was much pleased
with Belfast, which is a fine, well-built, clean, handsome town; and I
saw less poverty and wretchedness, less rags and filth there than I see
here.
"So the crazy old sycamore came down in the same gale! Well, I
am pleased that you have been under it whilst it was standing-two
generations of us having thus been familiar with that respectable piece
of vegetable antiquity, with which so many pleasing associations were
connected. I have sung and prayed under its branches nearly forty years
ago, and you have mused under its bare branches and decaying trunk.
And now it is gone-sic transit gloria mundi! Happy for us if, when
we shall have passed away from the living, as many pleasing reminiscences
shall embalm our names. God says the days of my people are like the
days of a tree, and the Christian is to flourish like the palm tree.
Enjoy yourself as much as you can amidst the diligence of appli-
cation and the restraints of discipline, for now is the dew of your youth
upon you, and the evil days have not yet drawn nigh. Amidst studies
and amusements, cultivate religion which will bless the former and
sweeten the latter. Evil communications corrupt good manners-have
no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness-flee from that which
is evil and follow that which is good.
As you will have had all such particulars in the letters which have
* This alludes to a venerable tree which was at Kingswood the object
of great veneration and the subject of divers traditions. When it was
living its shade had been the canopy under which John Wesley preached
to the Kingswood colliers, but for many years before it fell under the
force of a storm it was only a decayed memorial of other days.
•
240
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
just been transmitted you by other members of the family, I need not
mention any domestic affairs. You are ever remembered with affection,
and thought of with delight and hope. The days are lengthening and
though summer is not coming just yet, spring is, and thus the seasons
come forward in their appointed order, telling us of the goodness and
bounty of the great Creator, and reminding us that human life is a suc-
cession of seasons which quickly pass away. Yours is now the early
part of spring, mine the commencement of autumn-let us both work
while it is day.
"I am your affectionate father,
Jos. BEAUMONT."
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
Liverpool, 19th Feb., 1842.
"My dear Friend,-Having just left the dinner-table at which I had
the pleasure to meet Emilius (who says that though he has returned a
fortnight it seems but like twelve hours, from which I infer that he is
very decently happy, or that he shares in the family eloquence, though
the truth is I dare say that both parts of the inference are true at least in
part)—and I have by his pleasant presence been led to think how near is
the twenty-first, and that, it's immediate antecedent being Sunday, I
must write to you to-day, or you will not hear from me by that day.
Well, and now that I am essaying to address you, what have I to say
that can be run off in a very few minutes? And first of all, for the
matter of political economy and how luxury comes to bear thereupon-
why should you be troubled with such an interrogation! Send the
querist I pray you forthwith to Adam Smith, to McCulloch, to Malthus,
to any body that has thought written and printed on such a worldly-
wise, fleshly, man-and-mankind sort of a subject; and really I dare say
that you know more about it than I do. Luxury of course makes the
political science more abstruse and complete, and calls for a world of
pompous learned and laborious bamboozlement of the masses to reconcile
them to the taxation vexation and starvation which it sooner or later
induces upon them, and that with greater or smaller degrees of severity
according to the latitude, civilization and power of endurance with which
it may be associated. Some must pay for the luxury of others, because
luxury is not a state intended by the Moral Ruler of the world and as that
* Dr. Beaumont often indulged in pleasantries as to this "bamboozle-
ment" of the masses by political economists with regard to the pompous
and abstruse manner in which their science involves and mystifies the
simplest common-places. Not that he did not feel how what is common-
place in the concrete, requiring to be dealt with for scientific purposes,
often becomes by generalisation most abstruse; but, however this might
be with regard to that science, certain it is that the simple fall into a
state of bewilderment in its application to ordinary matters only ex-
ceeded by those to which it reduces those who mistake economical for
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
241
world now is, in proportion as luxury abounds in some classes, want and
destitution must be incident to others. Self-denial, moderation, con-
tentment, and all kindred virtues and emotions are as fitting and proper
in one man as in another, in one number of men as in another. There
is an old maxim that our luxuries should give way to the conveniences of
others and our conveniences to the necessities of others; but who believes
it or, believing it, cares to act upon it? But just because this wise course
is not followed, we have wretchedness and scantiness, clamour and agita-
tion, cursing and bitterness, confusion and every evil work. And hence
the planet itself shall flee away, blasted and consuming, when God shall
make all things new.
'Now you say this is no answer to the application which you have
preferred. I know it; but have not opportunity to treat it, nor the re-
quisite knowledge at hand of the right sort to push the investigation in
detail. But your friend no doubt imagines that you have intuitive know-
ledge, that you know all things actual, possible, and impossible. Well,
you are no doubt just as ready to learn as you are able to teach.
I am sorry that you were not well, but I trust you are so by this, the
weather having become mild and somewhat genial. I dare say that I have
given occasion for all and more than all that you have been so good as to
administer in the way of advice and 'scolding'-but when you say, ‘I did
not feel it,' you are wrong. I can however only tell you what is immedi-
ately before me. On Monday I proceed to Carlisle, leave it on Wednes-
day morning for Lancaster, forsake that on Thursday morning for Settle,
and that on Friday morning for Ulverston, and return on Saturday morn-
ing to Liverpool. I am not sure that I have not lately been subject to
more depression than is natural to me. However, I must arise and pur-
sue my course, trusting in that arm which is Omnipotent and in that
wisdom which is unerring. I need more religion, more godliness, more
heavenly light and love and peace, and oh, may the God of peace give
you peace always by all means! May you live-and live-and live for
ever! So much for the immortality that I desiderate on your account.
But I must leave this paper as it is post time, and I do not wish to incur
your displeasure by failing to fulfil your expectation of receiving some
lines from me and, empty though they be, I am full of sincere and deep
regard, wishing and praying that you may be enriched with all wisdom
and goodness and spiritual and heavenly understanding!
Yours affectionately,
"J. BEAUMONT."
metaphysical truth, and wander about its boundaries in hope of finding
an insight into a really remote if not an antipodal realm. It will be seen
that in touching on luxury the Doctor treats it as if it were a principle
proposed for an Arcadian society, instead of a material means for the civilisa-
tion and an element of the industrial progression of a fallen and disordered
race—a means and an element which in theory it is easy enough to har-
monise with the moral obligations of Christianity, with self-denial and
brotherly love. The difficulty is how to apply the theory in practice.
R
•
t
M
L
242
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
TO THE SAME.
1
•
"March 4th, 1842.
My dear Friend,—I duly received your communication and thank
you for it. I regret that you are the subject of so much anxiety.
"How frequently has it occurred that the pathway of the great and
the good has been thorny, sorrowful and (apparently) crooked. If in
this life only I had hope,' said Paul, 'I should of all men be most misera-
ble!' You must not allow your grief to drive you to seclusion, seeing
you are required to let your light shine forth. To be alone is to tread
life back again, to dissolve the links of a chain which binds you to so-
ciety. You must still be the life of others, and diffuse happiness when
you cannot absorb it.
"Within this week I have had another communication from Bristol
requesting consent to their proposing me at the coming quarterly meet-
ing for their circuit. My reply stated that my circumstances were pre-
cisely what they were when I last addressed them, and that I must be
excused for not proceeding further. I am involved in some perplexity
owing to Rebecca's continued illness, being very doubtful whether any
long removal will be possible on her account. The call to Bristol how-
ever cannot but impress me at any rate the loudest. I trust that when
the time shall arrive for a decision I may be clear in my perception of
what ought to be done in this important matter.
"I cannot satisfy you now on the subject of what the Scriptures call
most beautifully 'the generation of the heavens and the earth," but hope
to find time to notice it by and bye. You know well the modern theory
of the cosmogony on the subject. I had intended to have written to you
at length, but the ceaseless pressure of engagements by which I am beset
(and somewhat tormented) forbids it to-day and, to speak truth, I am not
disposed to write to you when my mind is thus hurried. I must close or
shall not save this evening's post.
"I remain yours ever,
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
"J. B."
"Liverpool, 19th March, 1842.
My dear Joseph,-Your last letter afforded me much satisfaction and
delight, as it contained many good thoughts which were expressed in a
correct and becoming manner. And I now thank you for your kind
wishes and dutiful and affectionate regards as to the return of this day.
I am now forty-eight years old, and ought to be very thankful to that
great and good Being, our almighty Creator and gracious Benefactor and
Preserver, that I am spared to see another birthday. I have been in the
course of the last year in journeyings oft' and in perils, but through
Divine mercy and bounty I am yet alive and in the enjoyment of tolera-
ble health and many blessings.
It is not unnatural that you should be looking forward and thinking of
"
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
243
+
what you may hereafter be. I can only say that should my life be spared,
whatever it may be in my power to do for your advancement and hap-
piness in life will be most readily and cheerfully done. I think of you
with delight and look upon you with hope. Perhaps none of us yet
know how you may come to be situated, in what profession you may be
placed, or in what scenes of learning or of occupation you may be en-
gaged. All must be committed to a wise and gracious Providence,
which will order everything in your future lot so that your happiness and
honour may be promoted, and that you may be usefully and pleasingly
employed. I am glad to find the direction which your mind takes in
its preference of subjects for study.
"I am happy to say that your mother and all your sisters and brothers
are well, Rebecca of course excepted, who I fear I cannot say is better.
Our intention is shortly, if the weather comes on warm and fine, to get
her out to the seaside, in the hope that such change of air may be bene.
ficial to her.
"I have lately been to London, opening a chapel at Vauxhall, and saw
some friends who inquired after you. Indeed you are not forgotten
either by us at home or by those who have known you in Edinburgh,
London and Liverpool. I expect to be at Edinburgh on the 10th of April
to preach for the chapel there once more, and right glad should I be if
I could have you with me on that visit. And now, my dear Joseph, I
can only say go on and prosper: be diligent, be attentive, and zealous to
learn, and remember that if you think of the pulpit or the bar, you must
pay particular attention to your speaking. Practise my oft-repeated
lesson: draw in your breath before beginning to speak, be determined to
do it and it is done.
“God bless you, my dear boy, and keep you from all evil. Accept the
love of all and of
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In the spring of 1842 Dr. Beaumont suffered from one of
the most depressing illnesses which he ever experienced
rheumatic gout in his right hand-the result of his constant
and excessive labours and more immediately, it was thought,
of the accident which occurred to him at the end of the year
1839 and which has been alluded to. He endeavoured to
withstand this attack and to keep at his work, but it was in
vain, and ultimately he was compelled entirely to abandon it
for a period. One evening when his malady was at its worst,
an unexpected failure occurred in the service of his pulpit, for
which he had procured a supply. The chapel was close to his
house and, when the looked-for preacher arrived not, some
•
244
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
י
of the stewards came to him and suggested that he should
himself preach. He was not only greatly reduced and op-
pressed but he was suffering great pain; nevertheless he at-
tempted to dress himself and to comply with their desire, but
his spirit, high as it was, could not subdue his weakness and
he found it impossible even to go through his toilette. The
repeated attempts to draw on his coat exposed him to vain
agony but, rather than leave his pulpit unserved, he threw on
a loose cloak and so attired preached to the expectant congre-
gation. His anxiety was great, in the prospect of a serious
or even fatal result, with regard to the future and his family;
but, though much depressed, he bore his suffering with Chris-
tian resignation and exemplary patience, and was ever most
kind, grateful and considerate to those about him. When
somewhat recovered he proceeded to Buxton in search of
health though only for too short a time.
His household was much afflicted, his wife and his eldest
daughter being both invalids as well as himself; and, as he
would not hear of one of his daughters accompanying him,
he solitarily pursued the prescribed course at that place.
Notwithstanding this infirmity of his hand, he managed to
write each day to his family, and often at considerable length
though in a strange character. The following letter to his
friend Mrs. Rowley notices some particulars as to his illness.
My dear Friend,
66
George Hotel, Buxton, 4th June, 1842.
My health has greatly-lamentably failed me. For some months I
have not been well, but on the night of the 20th of April I was seized
with violent inflammation of the right hand and wrist, and from that time
to the present I have been a pretty considerable sufferer. Pain-agonising,
deep-seated, grinding pain-I have had to struggle with, and this has
gnawed the little flesh off my bones that it found there, and I have been
looking wretched, emaciated, sunken, and woe-begone indeed. The
doctors pronounced the affection which has prostrated me to be rheuma-
tism. My hand and wrist have been the scene of inflammation, violent,
acute inflammation, and my constitution has been invaded, shaken,
damaged and reduced by the disease. For a month I could not write at
all, and it is only within a few days that I have been equal in anyway to the
manipulations and innumerable muscular actions involved in the act of
making words flow from the nib of a pen as it is worked across a sheet of
paper. Last Sunday week I preached once, and last Sunday twice. On
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
245
Tuesday I left homé for this place, and upon the whole I think myself some-
thing better. I look a little better, and the appearance of the afflicted
member is less distorted, unnatural and ghastly. I have had less pain in
the night, and really believe myself improving, though slowly. At this
place my case is pronounced to be gout, and at the least I take it to be
rheumatic gout! Well, last of all should I have expected a visitation of
gout, of which however there are two sorts, the one rich and the other
poor gout; and as mine cannot be the former it must be the latter.
So I must now and henceforward deem myself unsound—a frail,
fractured vessel, an endamaged, imperfect instrument, a thing of nought.
Let me not however be fretful or unthankful, misty and painful as
the way is along which I am moving. Over the future thick shadows
have been gathering, and portentous thunder-clouds have seemed to
stretch across the pathway of my vision and of my footsteps. Murky
vapours have rolled themselves into embattled masses, on the fringes of
which I have almost read the words, 'Thus far shalt thou go and no
further!' But he that made a highway for Israel through the Red Sea,
and through the wilderness, and through the Jordan, can and may and
perhaps will make a way for one of the most worthless of his servants to
pass on in an humble career of labour and usefulness after this long halt,
in pain and sorrow and weakness and fear. To him I commit myself—
to his holy will I have resigned my being with all its issues. I am forty-
eight years old and, were life to close now, something has been done and
something has been suffered.
'I am here alone, as Susan was too ill herself to accompany me, and
Fanny would I feared have found this place intolerably dull. I am ac-
commodated in a very well arranged house, and intend to remain here
until the end of next week, by which time I trust to have derived such
benefit as to warrant my return to Liverpool. I have never thanked you
for your charming letter which reached me with the paper at Edinburgh.
I shall return you the latter. I can now only assure you of my affec-
tionate regards and cannot tell how much I wish your happiness. To
write these few lines has been a great effort for my poor unfortunate
hand. Farewell-God bless you! I am delighted that my hand has
once more invoked upon you God's beatitude."
TO HIS WIFE.
George Hotel, Buxton, 5th June, 1842.
My dear Susan,-I gladly received your letter of yesterday with its
accompaniment of a paper and various enclosures, the most welcome of
which was my dear Joseph's kind and sympathising note which is proof
positive and satisfactory of his safe arrival at home, and happy should I
have been had I been there to have given him an affectionate father's
hearty reception. But I trust to have the pleasure to see him before this
day week. I am exceedingly sorry to find that you are still so great a
sufferer and do hope and trust that you will shortly be relieved from such
serious discomfort.
246
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
.
66
Yesterday morning I had my hand pumped on again; and, as I have
felt somewhat more pain in the bones of the wrist and some of the bones
of the hand, I am entirely suspending that application to-day; and all
the more as this is the Sabbath, the rest-day, on which it harmonises
with my feelings to abstain altogether from all such means. I cannot
do so much with my hand to-day as yesterday; it declines lifting quite so
heavy a weight and is not quite so pliable as the day preceding. But
perhaps this is nothing but the action of the repeated pumpings to which
it has been submitted, a process which punishes the hand very much. I
wish to be patient and submissive, and I entirely agree with all the
excellent sentiments that you have expressed. May the Divine Disposer
of all beings and events cause us to profit by the chastening of his hand,
and send us health and healing again that we may go about doing good,
that we may not die but live and declare the loving-kindness of the Lord!
As to Fanny's coming here I think we must forego it. Half of the time
has almost expired and the remainder will quickly follow, and the con-
tinuance of her toothache must greatly harass and dispirit her. She
should take exercise in the open air, and remember that the summer is
fast flying away. I hope she will soon be better and that permanently.
'I have this forenoon been to chapel (the time is changed to half-
past ten) and saw some old friends who inquired after you. I am much
pressed to preach, but have maintained a negative. I have this morn-
ing received a kind letter from Mr. Vevers, and am thereby set at ease as
to my appointments whilst at this place.
*
“And now I must close-wishing you a speedy and perfect restoration
to your accustomed health and activity-and with love to all sons and
daughters
I am your affectionate husband,
TO THE SAME.
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
George Inn, Buxton, 6th June, 1842.
My dear Susan,-I avail myself of the departure of Her Majesty's
royal mail which will soon take place to transmit you a few lines report-
ing such progress as I have made since I addressed you yesterday. I
was not so well yesterday as on several days preceding-my hand and
wrist were both much swollen. This I was told was the bringing forth
of the inflammation, and that I should be better to-day. I am happy to
say that I am somewhat better, the swelling having partially abated, and
my ability to use the hand somewhat augmented. My landlady observed
me this morning put my hat on with my right hand which she said I
could not do when I came. This morning too I effected that ever trouble-
some daily recurring personal service-shaving, entirely with the same
unfortunate member. I abstained entirely yesterday from all proceedings
with it; this morning however I had it pumped on before breakfast, and
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
247
an hour and a half ago it underwent the same 'punishment' whilst I was
in the bath; and I thought that I felt less pain whilst the rushing, shatter-
ing stream was directed against my wrist than on any former similar
occasion. The hand is still large, too large, and the swelling in the
wrist continues. Some improvement however there is, and I must be
thankful for it, and regard it as an earnest of still further good. My
general health is decidedly better. I am looking better, as everybody
about me declares; and my poor bones are beginning again to take on
a little of that comfortable cushion-like substance called flesh, so that I
have a good hope that I shall be permitted to present myself to your
notice by the end of the week in a somewhat amended condition.
Yesterday evening I went to chapel again, which was rather too much
for me, as the distance is considerable and the heat was great, but I wished
to encourage, though only by my presence, the little interest in behalf of
which I have laboured in the days of my mature youth. No house do I
look upon with so much interest and delight in Buxton as the one in
which lived three of my family now no more amongst the living upon
earth, and in which I myself as well as you have spent many happy hours.
Indeed there is no house that looks so comely-it really looks a dwelling
place to be coveted.* I have this forenoon been consulting Mr. Page, a
surgeon of many years' standing here, and he is of opinion that I am not
suffering from gout but from rheumatism. He says that mine is exactly a
case for Buxton, that I should bathe and have recourse to the pump every
day as I have done, and he advises a blister to be applied entirely round
the wrist, a course which I suggested a month ago, but which was not
then thought necessary. As to 'hope of perfect restoration,' I cannot
say much, but as the wrist continues much swelled, and the back of the
hand is more or less so, my course of proceeding is unvaried.
'It is perhaps in some respects to be regretted that I do not stop
longer now that I am here, but the circumstances of the Pitt-street work
on Sabbath next I feel to be urgent, and I hope therefore to be with you,
at the latest on Saturday by six or seven o'clock-perhaps I may have
the happiness to reach you earlier.
You must
"Putting all that you have said about yourself together I infer that
upon the whole you are better. I trust that this is the case.
sadly want fresh air and some change, and perhaps you may be able to
come with me to Buxton if I shall find it necessary to return hither,
which I rather think will be the case. We must believe that the time of
our adversity is that of God's extremity and look for deliverance.
"Get well-quite well as soon as you can. I hope all are happy
about you, and that Joseph is full of play and full of work and full of
delight. My love to him and to his sisters and brothers- and praying
that you may all prosper and be in health, I remain, my dear Susan,
"Your affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
* This allusion is to his mother's house.
+
248
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
After a resumption for a few days of his circuit duties, he
was ordered to return to Buxton, and to this mandate he was
unwillingly compelled to submit. The light of his daughter's
life was flickering at this time just before it expired, and to
her critical state of health some of the following letters al-
lude.
"
TO HIS WIFE.
'George Hotel, Buxton, 17th June, 1842.
My dear Susan,-I came direct through Manchester yesterday and
arrived here about five o'clock. This morning I bathed before breakfast
as the water is then the clearest and the retirement the greatest, and I
have resumed all my former routine, drinking the waters, and being
pumped upon as well as bathing. The action of the pump now gives me
very little pain-another sign of convalescence. I have had a long
interview with Mr. Page, who advises an ointment to be applied to the
wrist which he is prescribing for the purpose of reducing it to proper
dimensions and just symmetry.
"I came away with great reluctance, having many doubts whether I
should or should not have incurred the additional expense and renewed
absence, and probably I shall remain here but about a week, though of
this I can say nothing positively now-only that I shall certainly, God
willing, be at home by the end of next week. I suppose that I have
done right in taking this step; it is most likely quite proper that I should
seek further convalescence, that I may again commit myself without let
or hindrance to the great duties and urgent requirements of my calling.
I shall be glad to hear that you are still improving.
"I wish-nay, I should be right glad if I could transport myself to
Liverpool to-night or to-morrow morning that I might preach there in
my own place at the Mount. But this cannot now be, though what to
do with myself to-morrow I can hardly tell, for I have just received a
letter from the preacher saying that he cannot preach if I am present, and
begs that if I do not preach I may not be in the chapel. This is weak
indeed; but really to annoy people is to one's self a greater annoyance. I
hope that you are able to attend to my wishes about the children-and
I shall not be so happy here to-morrow nor am I any day as I should be
were they present with me. However if my health is benefited by this
separation, I must be thankful.
Rebecca is no doubt failing, and hope of recovery dwindles more
and more.
Indeed I do not think that she is in any respect deriving
much advantage from being at Waterloo and I much fear that she is
sinking. It is a great affliction and a heavy chastisement, and what can
we do but bow with humility and contrition before Him that smiteth?
I am almost convinced that it would be proper in me to write to the
stewards at Bristol to state that I have now no hope that Rebecca can
+
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
249
:
sustain the journey thither, and that I must therefore recall my expres-
sion of acquiescence in their request. That expression was happily
qualified by an allusion to her situation.
“We have had no such weather since my return as I had at my first
visit. It is colder-broken, dull and rainy. Yesterday was very wet,
and so is to-day. I was obliged to give way and preach last night-
where I have often preached before, when you and I were here together.
With love to all,
""
I am
am your affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
Buxton, 17th June, 1842.
My dear Friend,-I left this place on Saturday for Liverpool-
preached twice in Pitt Street chapel on Sunday to very full congregations,
altogether extraordinary at night (I mean for multitude). I got through
as well as in my weak state I might have expected, and I preached again
in the same chapel on Monday night. On Tuesday I spent the day at
Waterloo with Rebecca, whose deathly appearance struck my heart; I
fear that she is no better after a seven weeks' sojourn there and, as to
the future, clouds and darkness rest on it. But she is a woman—a phi-
losopher-a Christian; and one really needs to be both the latter, in
wending one's way through this mazy, thorny, stony wilderness.
"I have no chance of being able to see you at the Nunnery except
between the 17th and 24th of July. On the last of these days I have
been entreated to preach morning and evening at the opening of Wal-
worth chapel. This I declined, but I am advised by my doctor to be
about now as much as I can and get change of air. It does indeed
seem`a long, long time since I saw you-how the year has fled away!
What are you doing? As for myself, I am just a poor lamehanded
invalid, with heart enough and just hand enough to write to you these
few lines."
TO HIS WIFE.
"Buxton, 21st June, 1842.
•
My dear Susan,—
"Rebecca's case presents no encouraging feature. I found her as you.
say more nervous-and in that respect she has been suffering much dete-
rioration while at Waterloo. I intend to leave this to-morrow and shall
take the course which I mentioned yesterday, but whether I shall stay
in Manchester on Thursday is I now think very doubtful. Some little
expense would be incurred by my attending the British Association
now assembling there, and the state of our exchequer at present is most
unfavourable—and I feel wishful to visit Rebecca again with as little
delay as possible. I may therefore reach home on Thursday. I do
250
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
!
not perceive much change, if any, in the state or appearance of my hand
for the last few days. I have lately bathed before breakfast and in other
respects continue my old routine. I am keeping better generally, and
have an appetite as good as need be or should be. My intention is to
leave this place to-morrow at half-past one, and I shall probably reach
Mr. Vickers's, Waterside near Disley, at half-past two, and shall proceed
thence on Thursday to Manchester.
"I have decided to keep to my offer of preaching Mr. Collinson's
funeral sermon on Monday night next, as to be away from Stanhope
Street chapel on Sunday night would occasion a very great gap in my
attendance there, one which would give me great pain. If they had in-
formed me of the decease before I had left home, I could have arranged
to have preached the funeral sermon last Sunday at Warrington, but I
cannot satisfactorily give the next Sunday for the reason assigned. Do
not be discouraged in your own case, though your ailments are really
tedious. Use such means as you can, and I pray that they may tend to
your complete recovery.
"22nd June.
I received yours of the 21st this forenoon and feel little inclined
indeed for the British Association, Buxton or anywhere else, but to
return home both on your account and Rebecca's. I do not think it
likely that she will recover. Her lungs at last are beginning to indicate
that the ravages of disease have reached them, and thus the ground of
hope of which the case has hitherto admitted is sinking under our feet.
You may expect me to-morrow, indeed I almost think that I shall precede
my letter. We can but pray and submit! Rebecca is decidedly worse
than when she left home, but we must consult on what is best to be done
as soon as I reach. Farewell! God bless you and support us under the
gathering cloud!
"I am your affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
From this time Dr. Beaumont's hopes of his eldest daugh-
ter's recovery were destroyed, though she was at this time
expected to linger longer on earth than she actually did.
From amongst the applications which he this year had re-
ceived from various circuits for his services after the ensuing
Conference he had accepted one to Bristol as that most con-
genial to himself, and in the hope of the climate being found
advantageous to his child's health; but he had only acceded
to it contingently upon her condition allowing her to travel
thither. She had spent the summer with part of her family
at Waterloo, a marine resort near Liverpool, but as the year
advanced it became apparent that this would be impossible.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
251
Dr. Beaumont therefore notified to the Bristol " stewards"
that they must consider him free from his engagement, and
upon this he complied with a renewed invitation from the
Liverpool (North) circuit. To this circuit he was accordingly
appointed by the Conference of 1842, which held its sittings
in London. Before that assembly dispersed he became very
anxious to return to his home for domestic reasons, but public
duty demanded the sacrifice of what his heart yearned for,
and no slight sacrifice it was. Numerous are the letters
which he wrote to his family during the time of his stay in
London, all of which express the peculiar pain which he expe-
rienced in being then separated from them. These letters are
too much the same and too private in their nature to be adapted
for insertion in extenso in these pages, and a very few of them
will afford a sufficient narrative of this time.*
TO HIS WIFE.
"London, August 5, 1842.
My dear Susan,-Your letter of the 3rd reached me yesterday, and
has heightened my concern and anxiety both as to Rebecca and yourself.
I am very sorry indeed to find her weakness continuing and increasing.
How feeble is man, how ineffectual his help! I can do nothing, but
commend my dear child to the Father of mercies, the God of all consola-
tion, praying that he may enfold in his arms of love my suffering first-
born, who I fear has little prospect of the return of health or the con-
tinuance of life. I do not know that anything more could have been
done for Rebecca with a view to her restoration than has been done had
we had the resources of unbounded wealth. We must submit to the
awful Supreme. He is supreme and in nothing does the awfulness of his
supremacy appear more impressive than in such a case as this. I trust
that Rebecca is addressing her mind to the great solemnities of her situa-
tion, and I pray that the Holy Spirit may sweetly and savingly work in
her all the glorious results of the Saviour's wondrous death. May the
garments of salvation enclothe her for ever, and may heaven, the heaven
of light and purity and love, be her home, your home and my home-
our common, inviolate, eternal home!
"I have just seen Mr. Haydon who informs me that you have been
looking at a house in Roscommon Street and that upon the whole you
* The writer regrets that amongst the many volumes (for such they
would make) of his father's correspondence which are inaccessible are
all the letters which passed between him and his daughter Rebecca.
Some of these, especially those written in her last illness, would have
been interesting, but they are missing from some unexplained cause.
252
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
.#
t
like it. Perhaps to-morrow morning I shall hear from you and this sub-
ject will form part of your communication. We have just now reached
the point in Conference at which the Stationing Committee sit again.
They meet this evening at six and to-morrow morning at nine, and at
eleven the Conference will sit, when it is expected that the Stations will
be brought into, that is be read in the Conference. City Road has got
up (since I came) a petition to the Conference for my appointment to this
circuit-of course without any encouragement or sanction from me in
their so doing. But I do not see that they can succeed, as it seems that
Liverpool is the place for us at present. I should fear that Rebecca,
from what you say, is quite unfit for any removal at all.
"I was last night at Mr. Owen's, and found them at home, and they
wished me to baptise their son. I expect to dine there on Sunday, and
hope to preach at Hinde Street in the evening. I still refuse to preach at
City Road in the morning, as I am not very well, having caught cold and
having been somewhat annoyed with my hand again, though to-day I
feel somewhat better. With love to Rebecca and all,
"I am your affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
""
City Road, London, 8th August, 1841.
My dear Friend,-This is Monday-and I am feeling the effect of
last evening's effort at Hinde Street chapel, which was crowded to excess
and in which I laboured much. My subject was 'The Righteousness of
God.' I shall do nothing more at present in this wondrous London, I
mean no more in the way of public duty, for my Conference service can
hardly be so designated.
66
City Road was supplied yesterday morning by Dr. Durbin, an Ame-
rican (president of Dickenson College) who preached a good, clear, short
sermon on Justification from the four or five last verses in the fourth
chapter of Romans. City Road sent in a petition for my appointment
there. Of course I can give no sanction to or acquiesce in it. Liverpool
must be my place I feel for the present. You say truly that we have
nothing up at the Conference--the usual routine proceeds, but Atherton
says that this Conference, both now and ever after, shall be the do-
nothing Conference.' I am somewhat better as to my cold, and shall
perhaps recover from it fully on my separation from this. You will see
that I cannot have the pleasure of calling at the Nunnery on my way to
the North. I have so many years been requested by York, and now the
thing is pressed so much that, all circumstances considered, I have de-
cided on taking that place en route as when I once reach Liverpool I
shall not be away again on a Sunday for some time, and to get to York
I must diverge from your part of the county.
"I have just received a letter from home, from which I gather that
Rebecca is worse. I am confirmed in this by a letter from Dr. Anderson,
saying that the probability is she will sink with rapidity.'
This in-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
253
telligence distresses me much, very much. My child will die-and per-
haps the event is very near, and I am not there! I feel that I should be
there, and am trying to decide whether I ought to be off forthwith. Yet
I fear that my presence here may be necessary before the Conference is
Susan's letter does not intimate that she is apprehensive of im-
mediate results, but Dr. Anderson's letter I regard as the knell, the note
premonitory of a ravage which I shudder to contemplate. I am quite
unable to say whether I shall remain here a day or two longer.
over.
"Yours ever faithfully,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS WIFE.
66
City Road, London, 8th August, 1842.
"My dear Susan,--Your letter of the fifth only reached me this morn-
ing at half-past nine, and at eleven I received your letter of the sixth.
Taking both of them together I conclude that my dear Rebecca is worse,
and the more so as I have received a letter from Dr. A. this forenoon,
dated the sixth, intimating her true condition, and my alarm is now
great. Her end is approaching, and she may soon be removed from us.
I am filled with deep concern, and am involved in great perplexity as to
returning. My desire is to return to you immediately, and whether it is
or is not my duty to do so is now a matter which I am attempting to de-
cide. Rebecca I believe cannot recover. I write this with solemn grief,
and wish that I were now with my beloved child, and in the bosom of
my family-for you need sympathy, and I pray that you may be divinely
supported, that you may be inwardly comforted. But I pray God that
she may be permitted to live, though but for a little and for a short time.
We must look for grace, great grace to rest upon her. Let the Scriptures
be read to her, some Psalms, and the 14th, 15th, and 16th chapters of John,
also the 5th of 2nd Corinthians, the 5th of Romans, and other suitable pas-
sages. I trust that your own mind will be comforted, strengthened, sus-
tained and blessed amidst the solemnities of such a dispensation. You
have to act for yourself, and to act with the firmness and self-government
so much called for on an occasion so new to you and so serious in the
demands which it makes on all the powers of endurance. May the Di-
vine Spirit sustain yours, and finish the work of His grace in the soul of
our dear first-born! Give my love and blessing to her, and my love to
all my dear children. I am not quite easy that my dear Joseph is now
away from home. I think he should be present in the midst of us now
that we are called as a family to go a way we have not gone before. Oh,
may the ark of the covenant go before us! My dear Susan and my dear
children, to Almighty Love I commend you. I am,
"Your affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
After writing this letter and hesitating for a few hours, he
254
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
↓
1
yielded to his strong desire to return home. But it was
too late; early on the morning of the 9th of August, and
some hours before his arrival, his daughter's spirit passed
peacefully away. She had frequently in her last hours called
for her father and asked whether he could not come, and
it was with bitter grief that he found himself deprived of the
opportunity of receiving the last breath of his dear child.
This bereavement was one of his heaviest trials. For long it
oppressed every feeling. His only consolation he found in
the remembrance of the perfection to which the departed one,
though young in years, had advanced in the Christian virtues
and the confidence that she had entered the fulness of joy and
that thereafter he and she would be reunited incorruptible.
With these thoughts in his mind, and in the contemplation of
her release from sufferings which, though borne with great
fortitude and patience, had been very severe, he was often
heard in the period following her death to murmur to him-
self, while sitting in his study or moving about his darkened
house, "No more sorrow, no more sorrow.
1
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
255
CHAPTER XIII.
1842-1845.
No sooner had Dr. Beaumont removed to his new circuit
than he had to sustain a new sorrow.
His eldest daughter
had left him and it seemed as if his youngest was about to
fall also, under the stroke of a violent fever. Surely he was
in this year grievously smitten, and he had the utmost need
of the consolations of religion! These however did not fail
him. The cloud passed over and he was himself the first
from his own household who followed his first born child.
It was a source of great satisfaction to him that he was not
compelled to leave Liverpool, but was enabled to enjoy his
domestic associations unbroken save in the material point of
the presence of his child. Moreover he had many dear friends
in Liverpool, and he was able to maintain not only his old
personal friendships but to some extent his old ministerial
connections.
The following letter was addressed to Mrs. Rowley.
"Liverpool, Monday.
My dear Friend,
certainly is growing stronger both as a
woman and as a mind, as the letter of hers which you have sent proves
to demonstration. She has been cast in a noble mould, and well is she
responding to it. The soil will repay cultivation; advise her to allow
the sunlight of revelation, of heaven's revelation, to stream through the
cavities of her mind, and love and grace and truth and purity shall
enrich it immeasurably, and there shall play upon it the same light which
plays upon the everlasting hills, that bedecks the wings of cherubim,
flashing and streaming from the Father of lights, who sits enthroned in
highest heaven. And tell her that it is a sort of heaven to know that
that revelation will infallibly lead all who follow it and by whom it is
absorbed into the inner shrine of the Eternal, there to gaze upon its
unimaginable beauty with infinite ecstasy and ineffable delight for ever
and for evermore!
256
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
“I think Sir William Jones has ingeniously supported the theory that
all minds are originally alike and that all the difference which is pro-
gressively and ultimately developed between them, is just that which
culture makes upon the soil; in short that the soils are similar, but that
some are better cultivated and therefore exhibit finer, richer growths and
products than others. Now I don't believe a word of it. No doubt cul-
tivation can never be misplaced as applied to mind, which is not only the
most expansive but the most improvable substance in the universe; yet
there must be some original, essential difference either in the volume of
the faculties or in their intensity, in their power of germination, their
expansibility, or their excitability. . . . After all the theories of men,
we come to this declaration of the Omniscient, 'Wisdom is the principal
thing, therefore get wisdom.'
•
Yesterday was an arduous day. The chapel was crowded to excess;
aisles, staircase-all were stuffed. I was in the pulpit from six till ten
o'clock, it being the night for the annexation of a love-feast to the previous
service, of itself quite enough for my failing strength. I have to preach
soon at Dover and shall spend a day or two there, as I can have no rest
at home, though abroad if possible I get still less: but 'sufficient to the
day is the evil thereof,' and I suppose the good thereof. I am
"Your faithful friend,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
After the loss of his eldest daughter he kept his entire
family about him till early in 1843, when he induced himself to
part from his second surviving daughter to enable her to com-
plete her education in London. The following letter is ad-
dressed to her.
"
Liverpool, 18th February, 1843.
My dear Sarah,—I regretted that my letter was necessarily so short
and hurried when I wrote on the subject of the opportunity of sending to
Calcutta.
"I am not aware of any particular change in our domestic affairs since
you left us, with the exception of the transfer of Joseph to the Collegiate
Institution, a step about which I am not quite satisfied, but which I have
taken from the persuasion that upon the whole the change may be of some
advantage to him. He is growing fast, and will soon have passed from
boyhood to manhood.
"Indeed when I look upon yourself and Fanny, already so far advanced
towards womanhood, I feel how rapidly I must be filling up the measure
of my days; and greatly will the happiness of their remainder be heightened
if by any arrangements and painstaking care and personal sacrifices on
my part I can, under and with the Divine blessing, promote and secure
the happiness and prosperity of my dear children.
LÍFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
257
"I cannot but approve of your desire to obtain every possible addi-
tion to your acquirements which may fit you rightly to use and enjoy
life, and shall be glad if you find that in your present situation you
are able to realise your utmost wishes in these respects. Though you
are in London and are not altogether amongst strangers, I doubt not
that you will sometimes be conscious that you have not all the happi-
ness of home; but you will generally be too busy to nurse to a painful
degree any sentiments and emotions of that kind. You have just to
put forth all the activity and energy and diligence and attention that you
can call forth in prosecuting every branch of improvement, and subject
of knowledge within your reach; and whilst you are thus carefully ad-
vancing your attainments and accomplishments, cultivate spiritual excel-
lence and cherish an humble and confident reliance on the blessing and
guidance of your Heavenly Father. May He lead you and comfort you,
and direct and prosper you. We cease not to commend you to His pro-
tection and love, and I hope that you will practise those Christian exer-
cises to which you have been habituated, and that a life of happiness and
usefulness is before you on earth which will be consummated by immortal
bliss in heaven.
On Sabbath I was at Brunswick with a love-feast in the afternoon.
On Monday I went to Carlisle where I preached on Tuesday; and on
Wednesday I preached at Kendal, and intended to have left it by a
swift packet-boat on the canal to Lancaster on Thursday morning to take
the train at one for Liverpool, where I expected and had arranged to
arrive at five, in time for the service at Brunswick at seven. But the
canal was frozen up, and I had to wait for the afternoon coach, and was
thus prevented from reaching home until nine.
"The cold is intense here now, and you have the same frost doubtless
in London.
"Take care of your health as well as of your education-seeking first
the kingdom of God. I remain, dear Sarah,
"Your affectionate father,
#
;
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
CC
66
Belfast, 18th March, 1843.
My dear Friend,—I left Liverpool last night about eleven o'clock,
and though it was the time of the equinox and the highest tide of the
year, when some violent weather might have been expected, I had a plea-
sant, quiet and agreeable journey hither, and arrived this afternoon about
four o'clock. The passage was somewhat long, owing to a fog which was
encountered in the night and which in some measure retarded our pro-
gress. I was quite well the whole of the time and exempt from the too
frequent annoyances of a sea voyage, and thankful shall I be if the return
to Liverpool can be effected with so little annoyance of any kind as my
passage to Belfast. To-morrow is as yet all future and unknown.
“I expect to leave this place at twelve o'clock on Tuesday and to arrive
S
+
་
258
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT. ·
at Liverpool early on Wednesday morning. Of journeying I have nothing
more to report.
"I hope that you arrived at Worcester safe, well and without any cir-
cumstance to perturb or annoy. I look back upon the time that you
were in Liverpool with mingled emotions, and most of all at this moment
I am struck with the very rapid flight of the period of time so spent. I
seem but just to have gone to Islington, and I suppose that when the time
of our departure from the world shall have actually arrived we shall feel
as though we had but just come into it. And yet it will be a terrible
truth that we have sown seed between our cradle and our grave that will
bear fruit throughout the vast duration of an absolute eternity. May
God bless you and enable us both to sow that which shall yield fruit to
life eternal!
"In haste I remain, with the same regard and esteem as of old,
“Yours very faithfully,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT.'
""
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
'Liverpool, 23rd March, 1843.
“My dear Sarah,—I am quite sorry and concerned to find that your
health has given way since you left us. I hope that you may now be
considered recovering, and I pray God that your health may be restored
and established. It will be necessary that you write frequently until you
are quite recovered, and should your health not be restored satisfactorily
in a short time you must return home, where in a time of illness and
trouble you will feel yourself most at ease, and where we shall be anxious
that you should be.
should be. You have had all kind and due attention and care
on the part of Miss Farenden, and what can be done by her I have no
doubt will be done to relieve your feelings and forward your convales-
cence. But if you should not experience the desired improvement, home
will be the most proper place for you; and you have not to learn that
everything will be done for you that is within the range of our power.
"I trust that your mind will be sustained and comforted by supplies
of strength and grace from your Heavenly Father. You know to what
refuge to fly in time of trouble. Avail yourself of your privilege and
supplicate of the Father of Mercies that He will be with you, to cheer
and invigorate you, to refresh and bless you in the midst of this afflic-
tion. You know we love you and pray for you and are with you in
spirit. I shall be happy to find that you are daily increasing in strength.
I trust that this is the will of God concerning you. You must give your-
self no concern about your studies in the circumstances which have
overtaken you. Do just as much as is deemed fitting, safe and proper,
and be content to do no more. Your health is now the first thing to be
regarded and preserved. Try to cherish cheerfulness and entertain hope;
and I pray God that you may soon be quite well again.
I left Liverpool last Friday night at half-past ten for Belfast, and
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
259
having a favourable wind I had a pleasant passage, and reached my
destination at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon. I preached on Sunday
morning and evening and on Monday evening to congregations larger
than at any former visit. The collections too were larger. I left Belfast
at a quarter before one on Tuesday, and reached Liverpool at a quarter
before nine yesterday morning. The wind was against us and the pas
sage was long, but very tolerable and, considering the contrary state of
the wind, comfortable. I escaped with very little sickness returning, and
was quite well the whole way going. Mr. Caughey* supplied for me at
Great Homer Street on Sunday, and a more considerable and gracious
movement was experienced than at any previous service.
"And now, my dear Sarah, I need not assure you of the deep interest
which I feel in your happiness and how very happy I shall be to learn
that you are improving in health. But let us know always the exact
state in which you are-keeping nothing back from unwillingness to give
pain. And may the Lord bless you and be with you and enrich you with
all needful grace! So prays your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
Bristol, 9th May, 1843.
I did not reach this place until ten o'clock on Saturday night. On
Sunday morning I preached to a very full congregation in St. Philip's
Chapel on Psalm clvii. 5, 6, and in the evening at Langton Street to
a great crowd on Phil. ii. 5, &c. Last night we had a very heavy rain,
and it was a mercy, or I know not what we should have done-as it was
King Street chapel was thronged and I preached from Rom. iii. 22.
"
I am going after dinner to Kingswood and intend to spend my
evening at Clifton. To-morrow morning I am doomed to speak at the
meeting, but have positively declared that I will not and cannot attend
the evening meeting. I intend leaving to-morrow night for Liverpool,
having to preach there on Thursday, and to speak at the Bible Society
meeting in the Music Hall on Friday. On Saturday I go to Sheffield
(my deputation), preach there on Sunday and on Monday morning and
attend the meeting at night. On Tuesday morning at three I leave for
Preston to attend our district meeting which is held there, commencing
at nine in the morning, and reach home on Friday or Saturday as may be.
I preach Sunday School sermons in Great Homer Street chapel on the
21st, go to Shrewsbury and Wrexham on the 22nd and 23rd, return
to Liverpool and on the 28th preach Sunday-school sermons in Bruns-
* This was the Rev. J. Caughey, whose revivalist preaching throughout
England at this period produced remarkable results. Dr. Beaumont was
one of the first to welcome him to England and, with his colleagues the
Revs. A. Farrar and J. H. James, afforded him in their own circuit the
first opportunities which he had in England of exerting in certain "special
services" his great evangelical powers.
260
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
wick Chapel morning and evening. On the 29th, 30th, and 31st, I am
at Newcastle and other places, and thus I go on and go on.
"I looked round last night in the congregation for Adam but did
not recognise him amidst the throng, but he supped with me at Mrs.
Dowling's, and I hope to see him again before my departure to-mor-
row. I am not in the humour and I have not time or space now to
advert to the Education Bill. My own course about it has been
this. I just said, in naming the petition against it from the pulpit of
Brunswick Chapel, that I was sorry to have to interrupt the congregation
in their hallowed exercises by any reference to a Parliamentary bill—
that I had rather have addressed them on the subject on another day,
but that, as no such opportunity would occur, I had just to say that I
had read the bill in question, and that I considered it an infringement on
liberty, an interference with the freedom and healthiness of religious sen-
timent and action, and that it infringed on those institutions for educa-
tion amongst us which had been reared by the piety and patriotism and
sacrifices of a hundred years; that speaking therefore as a minister of
religion, having a deep interest in everything affecting the spiritual
fortune of my country, I could not but say that I regarded the bill with
much concern and alarm; that I had nothing to do with the motives of
those who had prepared it or who had brought it forward, but I had to
do with the tendencies, the sequences, the consequences of the Bill, and.
I was against it. I shall not attempt, I said, to induce any of you to do
that which you disapprove, but the petitions against the bill you will
find at the church doors as you retire, and you can read them and mark
them and act accordingly.
"But this is a long wretchedly spun yarn-and I have a crowd of cor-
respondence and other affairs that are about me to attend to and must
therefore conclude.
Your affectionate friend,
TO THE SAME.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
'Dewsbury, 9th June, 1843.
"Now I am pulled up at this place through the failure of a vehicle to
convey me to the next station-and I am happy to find myself in posses-
* The Education Bill introduced by Sir James Graham. Though he
thus expresses here his suspicions of that bill, it will be seen from a
subsequent letter that on consideration he came to a more modified con-
clusion as to its merits than that which many of the religious classes of
the country adopted. While the bill itself was undoubtedly faulty in
principle and unfair in its operation as to existing associations, it seemed
practicable to modify it so as to make a great advance towards the great
but apparently desperate object of a really national system of education.
Such was the course adopted with Lord John Russell's measure for Ireland,
the results of which have been most gratifying.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
261
sion of a moment's leisure for the purpose of replying to your favour
from Bristol. No wonder that your sons feel reluctant to your becoming
an inhabitant of Jersey; and so feel I regarding the thing per se and,
barring any specialties indicating the desirableness of such an arrange-
ment, I hold that the objection taken by that par nobile fratrum at
Bristol is irresistible and must be conclusive. Why go to Jersey? Why
have all the character and feeling of being abroad' and yet be, for one
that is so, provokingly near-why be teasing and tantalising with
your very nearness and yet thwarting and harassing with your insular,
singular and anomalous distance? It is curious and, to say the least
of it to me unpleasant. Still you must decide. I need not say any
more on this subject perhaps at present. If you do not include
and seclude yourself in that same I-dare-say-pleasant-enough frag-
ment of an island for those who are satisfied to vegetate in the
locality on which they fasten, or would do if they could—I was trying to
say that if you forego Jersey I cannot tell why you should favour Bristol
with the light of your presence. But I thought I said that I need say
no more on this subject at present, and the less so as I may have the
gratification within the next eight or ten days of seeing you.
"Fanny I took with me to Nottingham where I was on Tuesday and
Wednesday—and there I have left her for some weeks. Our last ac-
counts of S. are not so favourable as those which preceded them and
I therefore leave for London on Saturday morning. On Sunday the
18th I preach at Walworth chapel for the benefit thereof, and the next
two days I shall be able to remain in town and on one of those days
I shall see you.
"God bless you, and be with you and may you never be buried but in
smiles and waves of love and light and truth and grace. This is all I can
say-of Schiller and his poetry at another time. It is right and good
and great of you to hope concerning the poor fellow that is away. May
Heaven and mercy be with us who are out of purgatory, and may
Heaven's grace preserve us that we never fall therein or into deeps yet
deepening ever and ever!
Oh, how solemn is everything and everybody and every place—and
some are bright."
TO HIS ELDEST DAUGHTER.
Mevagissey, 16th July, 1843.
"My dear Fanny,-I have received your letter this morning.
As to the time when you should return home, it must be determined in a
great measure by yourself. My wish is to promote your happiness and your
health. Return after you shall have complied to a reasonable extent with
the wishes and feelings of those about you. I will send you a syllabus
of James Montgomery's lectures on poetry at the Collegiate Institution.
I shall give him an invitation to visit us, and you must decide for yourself
about returning immediately or not.
•
"I leave Mevagissey to-morrow morning by the Falmouth steamer to
262
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Plymouth, where I arrive at one o'clock. At two I proceed by mail to
Bean Bridge through Exeter and take the train to Bristol, which I hope
to reach between twelve and one o'clock to-morrow night. I shall be
met at Bristol and taken from that place to Sherborne where I have to
preach on Tuesday morning and evening; on Wednesday I preach at
Tewkesbury afternoon and evening; on Thursday I do the same at
Stratford-on-Avon, where Shakspeare's tomb and cottage are; on Fri-
day morning I hope to reach Liverpool, and on Monday afternoon,
the 24th, I leave it again for Stockport and move on to the Conference
at Sheffield for a fortnight.
I was on the coach during that awful storm which raged the evening
I left York. I could not get an inside place, and had to endure the
heaviest deluge of rain that I ever knew pour down, and to witness and
travel in the midst of more glorious, terrific and splendid lightning than
is often witnessed in the latitude of our island. This, following my fall
from the phaeton the day before,* has rather shaken my nervous system.
Mevagissey is a charming little fishing town with a beautiful bay and
beautiful scenery around; but I shall be glad when my face is well turned
once more towards Liverpool. With love to your uncle, aunts and
cousins, I remain
"Your affectionate father,
TO MRS. ROWLEY.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
$
Sheffield, July 26, 1843.
My dear Friend,—I received yours on Monday at Liverpool and now
take my pen to address some lines for your eye, now looking upon the
venerable, time-worn city of Bristol. I have been in journeyings often
and in perils not a few since I saw you. On a journey to Shrewsbury by
coach some time ago, the man drove us upon the toll-gate. The coach
fell against the post thereof and broke the pole, the two near horses
broke their traces, and the collision was great; but I kept my seat and
suffered little from the shock. In a journey to the north, after turning
aside to see and show my daughter Fanny the far-famed Bolton Abbey,
I was going from Addingham in a phaeton when the horse shied, burst
away, broke the shafts and I was thrown with great violence upon my
right side, bruising the leg (fortunately the hat saved my head); then I
* This accident he refers to more in detail in a subsequent letter. It
occurred on the occasion of a visit to Bolton Abbey which he had pro-
posed to make in company with the daughter to whom this letter was
addressed. He was always glad, when any of his family happened to be
sojourning within reach of any of his routes or when they could accom-
pany him on his journey, if he were able to visit with them any object of
interest or natural beauty. In this instance he was disappointed of his
child's companionship by a mischance and in addition met with the ac-
cident here mentioned.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
263
had another bound and finally pulled up at the wall! With the exception
of the bruise aforenamed, and a few minor ones, I suffered little; the
chief injury being the shock given to the nervous system. Last week
coming from Mevagissey in the Falmouth steamer to Plymouth, we got
aground on the rocks in a fog but, taking to boats, I got safely upon
terra firma and 'having obtained help of God, I continue unto this day.'
"Last week I passed through Bristol, on Thursday preached at Strat-
ford-on-Avon, and on Friday morning sallied forth to see the house and
the room in which Shakspeare was born. The house is a low pitched,
antiquated building, in the upper room of which that great creature first
saw the light. It is a room so low that the ceiling may be touched by
the hand, and it is written upon all over with names of visitors, all the
walls being written over in the same manner-names-names-names
innumerable, noble and ignoble are there, and it was with difficulty that
I could find space to insert mine. The stream of visitors thither embraces
many foreigners of distinction and consideration. Americans in numbers
wend their way to Stratford, and one of them would sleep in the room not
long ago, and accordingly a mattress was procured, on which he lay till
morning, catching inspiration (query) from the natal room of nature's
own child and art's best disciple! By the bye, some time ago the female
(horrida!) who had had charge of the favoured dwelling but was com-
pelled to quit it, in her vexation and diabolism whitewashed its walls and
ceiling and entombed, as she thought (ugly, venomous female toad as she
was), the glorious assemblage of names written by hands which had come
from the east and the west, the north and the south, but the whitewash
was removed and a full revelation was again obtained of them.
"Yours ever very faithfully,
"JOSEPH Beaumont."
(6
TO THE REV. JAMES EVERETT.
"94, Islington, Liverpool, 31st Oct., 1843.
'My dear Friend,-Certainly-by all means and no mistake,' we
shall fully and altogether expect you to abide with us on your visit to
Liverpool on the 13th of November. Say to any application that you
are engaged, that you are to be at my house. I (over) heard on Friday
last accidentally, that you were to be written' to for Pitt Street Chapel,
though I did not learn at what time, and it was my instant intention to
request you to favour us by sojourning here.
I shall have the satisfaction of being at home on the aforesaid 13th
of the dark November; I have an engagement to be at Oswestry on the
14th, and from that I think I should contrive to slip my cable did I know
that you would remain over that day with us. But, as that knowledge is
beyond my attainment, I suppose I must let it stand, seeing the engagement
is the result and product of much negotiation by means of letters and
one or two deputations for that very purpose. To-day sundry persons
are convened by the president to a meeting in the Centenary Hall on
Education, in virtue of a minute of Conference to that effect. I how-
}
•
2
6
264
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
ever have declined taking a journey to London, and yesterday wrote to
Scott saying that he must be so good as to excuse my non-attendance, as
I found a mist had enveloped my mind and overhung my path touching
the said meeting through which I could not very satisfactorily or dis-
tinctly see my way. And so I am, thank God, comfortably at home.
instead of having the trouble to utter a sort of talk to which some of my
hearers would listen with anything but complacency. Indeed this week
I had dissected out of the stream of weeks for my own particular use, and
I was not willing that it should be devoured by what I take to be a piece
of very superfluous and good-for-little extra duty.
“We shall confidently expect you on the 13th to dinner.
"With kind regards to Mrs. Everett,
"I am yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
t
TO W. B. CARTER, ESQ.
Liverpool, 2nd Nov., 1843.
My dear Friend,-I am happy to acknowledge your three communi-
cations of last month. We were all glad to be informed of your safe
return home after your excursion to our part of the island, and to the sea
and the lakes which are respectively and in their different ways and
degrees and kinds so interesting and impressive. It is only after stirring
abroad and travelling through and by and about the highways and
byways of nature that we can well and fully imbibe the lofty emotions
and pure and far-reaching sentiments of the poet of Zion when he ex-
claims Manifold are thy works, O Lord, in wisdom hast thou made
them all.' I do think indeed that money cannot be better appropriated
than in such pursuits. They contribute much under the Divine blessing
to the production of that great desideratum which used to be so devoutly
invoked by an ancient and every-way-looking philosopher, a sound mind
in a sound body. I am happy to say that we are all well at present and
that our tidings in respect of S. continue to be gratifying.
"And now to the subject of your special application. I suppose I must
visit Nottingham for a night by the early part of December for the
purpose
of preaching in Hockley chapel on behalf of the Ranters.' And yet I do
not see that I can well escape another visit for the purpose which you
have pressed on my attention, one indeed of pressing necessity and urgent
importance. And yet the month you name is untoward on account of
ticket-giving—a service from which I do not allow myself to be absent.
It is also difficult to me to propose any time to be with you in that month,
as the distribution of that sort of work is not with me. Would it answer
your purpose to take it a week earlier than the first of those which you
have mentioned? Be so good as to favour me with a line stating your
opinion as to this proposal and I hope then to be able to decide upon
the week in which you may expect me for your town mission. Next
week I have to be away in the north, and unless I have your letter on
Saturday you will scarcely be able to hear from me again before Tues-
:
*
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
265
day week. All unite in affectionate regards to Mrs. Carter and Mrs.
Beaumont, and Fanny sends kind remembrances to the children. We
are much obliged by your kind invitation again tendered in regard to
Mrs. Beaumont, and shall be happy truly if she can see her way to visit
you. By and bye she may be more able to determine
"I am your sincere friend,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
44
Liverpool, 4th Nov., 1843.
'My dear Sarah,-I hope that you have not been inconvenienced or
disquieted by my delay in replying to your last letter. I have frequently
thought of you, and nearly as frequently offered my supplications for you
to the Father of mercies.
"And this is November. How soon, very soon will your year of ab-
sence have expired! Various have been your states, and various our
feelings, our hopes and fears, on your account; but we have all had to
sing more of mercy than of judgment. It is well that you are impressed
with the true character of life and that, whilst busy, industrious and
anxious, you are not so merely in relation to this short life. Do not be
over-anxious-trust in the Lord at all times, God is a refuge for us.
Nothing is so conducive to real, enduring, undecaying, ever fresh and
sterling cheerfulness, as religion.
"Next week I preach on Sunday in Manchester, on Monday at Bishop
Auckland, on Tuesday at Sunderland, on Wednesday at Newcastle-on-
Tyne, on Thursday at Blyth, on Friday at Barnard Castle; I return
home on Saturday, and preach at Brunswick on Sunday. The week after
I go into Wales; and thus you see I am more than fully occupied.
“I shall be glad to hear from you, and I now commend you to the pro-
vidence and grace of God.-I am
"Your affectionate father,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The following letter to his wife was written during the
Conference of 1844, and it shows how during the sittings of
the assembly he was accustomed to labour in the neighbour-
hood where it met.
""
(6
Birmingham, 31st July, 1844.
'My dear Susan,-I left you, I confess, with great reluctance this
morning at Derby, but I trust that you had a safe if not a pleasant jour-
ney home. I am certainly quite disappointed at not having you with me
at this place. I arrived at the station here at a quarter before eleven. I
then got a fly and rode a mile and a half to Shireland Hall. It is more
1
266
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
than two miles out of town, and I rather think that 1 shall find the
distance sometimes a good deal inconvenient, but I suppose we shall
generally have the use of the carriage. All have expressed regret that
you are not here, but much as I regret being deprived of your presence I
cannot suppose that you will feel otherwise than happy to find yourself at
home. I should indeed still be very glad if it were every way agreeable
to you, now that Tom is safely housed at home, to come away singly.
However, after what I have written, you will see my mind and I hope
act out your own.
"To-day I am something better, though not well. I consider myself
however convalescent and, as a proof of it, I am going to Worcester this
afternoon to preach there this evening. It is but twenty-six miles and I
go by rail, and shall return early to-morrow morning. On Saturday
afternoon I go to Wilmslow to preach there on Sunday next. The pro-
bability is that I shall leave Birmingham at a quarter past four on Satur-
day afternoon, reach Wilmslow at eight, and leave it again for Birming-
ham on Monday morning at seven, and reach Birmingham at a quarter
past eleven. On Tuesday evening next I go to Cheltenham to preach
there if all be well.
"With love to all and my anxious wishes that Johnny's excursion to
Scotland may prove every way happy, I remain
"Yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEaumont.'
""
M
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
Liverpool, 2nd Oct. 1844.
My dear Sarah,-I had certainly intended to have visited York for
two or three days during the meeting of the British Association there,
but the pressure of circuit duties has led me to abandon the design of
taking a short time for a gratification and pursuit of that kind. Indeed
every day and every hour, public claims accumulate upon me until I am
perplexed and oppressed beyond measure, though I have had the great
delight of being among my own people and in my own home for the last
fortnight, with the exception of a day or two.
"Last night we held our quarterly meeting, and found again, thank
God, an increase of numbers as well as of financial prosperity, and through-
out the circuit the work of God is advancing and the prospect of success
is enlarging. Before our quarterly meeting closed I withdrew to attend
the jubilee meeting of the London Missionary Society at Dr. Raffles' and
assist in its proceedings. Milne from China was speaking when I entered
and I followed him, and was followed by Dr. Raffles and Mr. Kelly.
Milne breakfasted with us this morning.
"On Sunday I was at Birkenhead, where the enlargement of our chapel
has advanced so rapidly that I expect to have to re-open it about the end
of next month. I was at Mr. Davison's and found his son sinking in
confirmed consumption. In the afternoon I called to see Mr. Harden,
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
267
one of two brothers of that name from Leeds, who have had the contract
of the tunnel at Birkenhead to the Chester railway, and to-day, whilst
waiting at the station to see your aunt off to Bradford, a hearse drove into
the yard containing the corpse of Mr. Harden, whom I had seen on Sunday
afternoon, on its way to Leeds for interment! Oh, let us ever think of
heaven as our final home, and there may all our labours and wanderings
end! How gracious and bountiful is God in permitting to us so many
enjoyments and so much happiness in the midst of our scene and period
of probation! How true it is that godliness is profitable for all things—
therefore let us exercise ourselves unto it habitually and constantly!
Mr. Ashton is printing for private circulation the account which I
gave of his wife at the close of the sermon which I delivered as an im-
provement of the death of that 'elect lady.' How desirable to live so
piously and usefully that when we die our memory shall be blessed!
"I trust that you are improving any opportunities that your present
visitings furnish for the improvement of your health, your knowledge,
your taste and your religion. We shall all be right glad to receive you
at home when you shall feel disposed to quit Yorkshire for Lancashire.
I do not suppose that any of Mr. Locking's dear children have any remi-
niscences of my sojourn at Hull, but their parents have not forgotten me,
nor have their forms ever faded away from my mind. You will remember
me to them most cordially, and present my regards to Miss Baron and
her father.
'This has been a very busy day, like those that have gone before it,
and I must now close this letter, as I have left myself little time enough
to prepare for a service which I have at Birkenhead this evening.
I remain, dear Sarah, your affectionate father,
TO HIS ELDEST DAUGHTER.
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
Norwich, 5th November, 1844.
My beloved Fanny,-I reached London last night at 6, and left at
7∙30 by rail and coach for this city and arrived here this morning at 7.
I went to bed for a few hours, and not without necessity, for I had been
two nights out of it with much work on the days that intervened. I have
preached this afternoon to a large congregation, much larger than I anti-
cipated, at which many ministers were present.
My dear Fanny, I cannot tell you how deeply my heart sinks in pro-
spect of this event.* I feel certainly much at the prospect of losing you
from my sight at all and especially at the thought of such a wide separation
as that which now presents itself. On my part it will be a great sacrifice at
least, but your happiness is ever most dear to me and vitally connected
* Alluding to the marriage of this daughter to the Rev. W. Milne, which
was at this time approaching and which involved her proceeding to China
with her husband.
268
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
with my own. What can I do but bow to the Divine will and hope and
trust and believe for your future happiness! Oh, may Infinite Wisdom
guide you, may Infinite Benevolence bless you! I cannot say what I feel,
but I commend you, my dear Fanny, to the care of God, to the word of
his grace, to the guardianship of his especial providence. I am, my beloved
child,
"Your affectionate father,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS WIFE.
'St. Days, 30th November, 1844.
My dear Susan,-I left Birmingham yesterday at five, arrived at
Gloucester at a quarter to eight, left it at eight, and arrived at Bristol at
ten. I left it at one, and arrived at Exeter at a little past four, and left
it at five, and reached Truro at a quarter past two. There a person was
waiting for me with a gig, and he said if I objected to it he would have a
post chaise for me directly-the politest offer that I have ever yet had
made to me in my countless journeys on the public service. I accepted
the gig, and after a pleasant ride in a mild, temperate, genial and almost
May-like atmosphere, I reached St. Days at half-past three. And having
now despatched some of the 'unruly member' of an ox (though I am
not aware that oxen use their tongues for the 'unruly' purpose of talk-
ing, as the human species is alone in its glory' in that respect) and a
part of the flying machinery of a fowl (which does not fly)—in a word,
having dined, it occurred to me that I had something to say to you about
things to be done, but as that something does not just now choose to stream
forward to the pen in my hand, I shall be forced to lay it down without
any deliverance either well made or made at all. Oh!-I wished to say
that all letters that have come respecting any of my public works next
week should be sent to me according to the directions which I forwarded
from Birmingham. And that is all! With my love to all, I am
“Yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
A pleasant little excursion this which is here described—at
the end of November to preach to the Cornwall Methodists!
The following letter to one who had addressed him on
the subject expresses some of Dr. Beaumont's views with
regard to the "Teetotal Movement," as it is called. It is
needless to say that temperance occupied its proper place as
a cardinal virtue in his estimation. He was himself abstemi-
ous in his habits, and he advocated often the cause of the tem-
perance societies, which have beyond a doubt done much good
in the British islands. But he displayed in this matter his
uniform temperance of opinion, and it will be seen from the
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
269
subjoined letter that he was afraid of the advocates of teetotal-
ism pushing their views so far as to do injury to their own
cause, by enforcing the practice of "total abstinence" on those
who had no occasion for it as a safeguard and who could not
admit its obligation as a duty.
TO THE REV. J. E. WITHINGTON.
"Liverpool, 29th April, 1845.
"Dear Sir,-I am sorry that I have not time to write to you at length
on the subject upon which you have addressed me. I am glad to find
that you are so usefully employed and that the work of the Lord is ex-
tending through your instrumentality. I remember your father well, and
am happy to learn that his son is so well and successfully engaged.
"I may say at once that I do not think it right in itself that teetotalism
should be made a condition of church membership. Certain I am that it is
not a condition of membership in the church of God, and we should perhaps
be cautious in instituting terms of admission into the fellowship of our own
churches which have not the direct sanction of Scripture. I have no doubt
of the zealous intentions of those teetotalers who adopt this as a term of
membership, and the very adoption of it may be overruled for good, though
in itself I think it never can be defended.
I am quite satisfied that teetotalism is very useful and on that account
I regret that any use should be made of it but that which is strictly legiti-
mate and valid.
"Wishing you happiness and prosperity in your duties, I am
"Yours truly,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
On the occasion of the death of a valued friend (the late
Thomas Waller, Esq., of Luton), he addressed the widow in
the following language :—
66
Liverpool, 19th May, 1845.
My dear Mrs. Waller,-I have just received from Mr. Crofts the dis-
tressing intelligence of Mr. Waller's sudden removal, and I cannot tell
you how much affected I am by this most unlooked-for event.
ness.
"You are bereaved indeed, but you' sorrow not as those who have no
hope.' Of the immortal blessedness of him who has been caught away
from your embrace you have the most confident assurance, and that
must diffuse a sweetness in the bitter, and spread a light over the dark-
Besides our dear departed friend had been spared to you many
years, he had been permitted to see some of those children whom God
had given you settled, striking their roots and spreading their fibres; he
saw them all doing well in reality and in promise; he had founded his
house, built its reputation and blessed his children ere came the wither-
ing cloud.
270
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
尊
​“And you, my dear Mrs. Waller, are blessed with health and grace,
and knowledge and talent, and energy of mind, and courage in conduct,
and are well fitted to encounter all the responsibility and importance that
must now attach to you as the sole head of your house. And thus you
see I would look on the dispensation that has overtaken you so swiftly,
and that has overwhelmed you so deeply, not on one side only. That
side of the cloud which is now towards you is dark, but the other is
bright. And I pray God, even Him who is your Husband, to sustain, to
comfort and to bless you abundantly, to solace and invigorate you, to
conduct you through all the solemn scenes spread around you as in a
moment, to guide and uphold you in all the interesting and important
duties which must now devolve upon you and to spare your own life
many years to your beloved children who will, I doubt not, be your hap-
piness and honour through all the coming days of life's pilgrimage. Oh,
they are bereaved as well as yourself, and I cannot omit to pray that
Jehovah will be the Guide of their youth, and that He will lead them in
paths of righteousness for his name's sake in green pastures and beside
still waters.
"I assure you that it is a mournful satisfaction to me that I was with
you, and amongst you all but a few days before this solemn visitation.
I have the countenance of the departed full before me, as I saw it in
the sanctuary not a fortnight ago, touched with sacred emotion, the
eye moistened with tender sympathy and devout sensibility. And I
behold him at the head of his table, of his family, of his friends at the
gathering around the far-reaching hospitable board in his loved home at
night, beaming intelligence and kindliness all before him—and I can
scarcely believe that he, husband, father, master, friend, host, is not now
amongst the living in the land! My dear Mrs. Waller, let me assure
you, that you have my warmest sympathy, my sincere condolence, my
best regard. And I pray that He who gave and who has taken away
may enrich your heart with the consolations of His heavenly grace, that
He may guide you by His counsel and strengthen you by His Spirit. To
Him betake yourself in prayer, and you shall find that as your days are,
so shall your strength be.'
"Give my love to dear Mrs. Noel and to all your children, and believe
me to remain, dear Mrs. Waller,
"Your affectionate friend,
+
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Dr. Beaumont's three years in the North Liverpool circuit
having expired, it was necessary for him to undertake once
more the affair, ever distasteful to him and in this instance
more than ordinarily unwelcome, of migrating to his new cir-
cuit. During the six years spent by him in Liverpool he had
taken, perhaps in a degree more than usual, an active interest
in the various public movements of the period whether local or
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
271
national and general in their nature, and his position in pub-
lic life was too important to be vacated without his loss being
severely felt. This period had endeared to him the people of
that town and had taught them-not Wesleyans alone but
other large classes also-to love and admire him, and of
course the parting could not be otherwise than unwelcome.
Birkenhead, which formed a portion of the circuit he was
leaving, had desired to take the opportunity of his connec-
tion with Liverpool to obtain its independence as a separate
circuit under his superintendence. This arrangement how-
ever seemed at that time undesirable and he selected, from
the various applications which he received to labour in se-
veral London circuits, in Leeds, Halifax and other places,
that of the Second London or Queen Street society as the
one then most satisfactory to him. The Conference of 1845
confirmed this engagement and appointed him to London
once more.
Amongst the other circumstances which made him unwill-
ing to break off his Liverpool connection was the separation
which it involved from colleagues in the ministry with whom
he had lived and laboured in the utmost harmony and with
common zeal. These were the late Rev. A. Farrar and the
Rev. J. H. James, men of great ability and the most kindly
dispositions. With Mr. Farrar Dr. Beaumont was afterwards
associated at a melancholy time, during the last few months of-
that faithful minister's life, and his many attractive qualities
and high Christian character gave to this renewed connection
a pleasing and yet in the result a painful interest.
His letters from the Conference were numerous, full and in-
teresting, but they were mostly occupied with references to
events in Methodistic affairs, or with personal anecdotes or
allusions which would be unsuitable to these pages. In one
of his letters written during the Conference of 1845 he makes
the following reflection, which shows the tone in which he
often turned his remarks upon himself. "I heard
preach, but his wand is broken-there was no witchcraft in
his preaching. How soon may the same be said of me! All
flesh is grass-the night cometh!" In another letter he
refers thus to a sermon delivered by him during the sittings
of the Conference:-"In the evening I preached at Oxford
+
272
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Place Chapel, which was overflowing soon after five o'clock,
and so I commenced at half-past five instead of waiting for
the hour appointed. There was great feeling, but I exerted
myself (as usual) too much and spoke too loud if not too
long." On the remarkable occasion alluded to in this letter
the writer was with his father at Leeds, and he well remem-
bers the circumstance mentioned. Dr. Beaumont had for-
tunately driven in from Gledhow, where he was staying,
much before the time fixed for the service, and arrived at the
chapel shortly after five o'clock. To his surprise and some-
what to his consternation he found the chapel already crowded
and the entrances so inaccessible that, after attempting in vain
to pass in and after some consideration, he was obliged to
make his way into the adjoining schoolroom, through a
window or in some singular and perhaps undignified mode
of entrance which the writer at present does not recollect
distinctly, but which excited considerable amusement at the
time, and so to gain the chapel. As it was manifest that
no object was to be gained by keeping an excited crowd
(so densely packed that aisles, stairs and even the altar space
were crowded) in discomfort and anticipation for the sake of
form, Dr. Beaumont immediately commenced the service,
and several other congregations were formed in adjoining
rooms or buildings out of the overflowings of this mighty
gathering and under the auspices of some of the ministers
who were present.
Before he left Liverpool a new separation occurred in his
family-one which was not however grievous and bitter as
had been the blow which fell upon him on leaving the South
circuit, as it was occasioned by the marriage of his eldest sur-
viving daughter to the Rev. Mr. Milne. This event was a
remote result of the old intermarriage of Dr. Morrison with
Mrs. Beaumont's sister. Mr. Milne was the son of the Rev.
Dr. Milne, who was distinguished as one of the pioneers of
Christian missions in China, and had himself for some years
been labouring as a missionary to its inhabitants in connection
with the London Missionary Society, and it was through the
connection between himself and the Morrison family that he
became particularly acquainted with Dr. Beaumont. It was
not without pain that the latter acquiesced in this union;
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
273
for, although he highly esteemed his son-in-law, he could not
easily reconcile himself to his daughter's residence in the far
east. It was one of the bright circumstances attendant upon
the close of his life that a few months before that event this
daughter returned to England with her family, and thus he
had the happiness to unite about him all the survivors of his
family in the far-spent evening of his days, sad and gloomy as
to them that evening was.
T
274
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
CHAPTER XIV.
1845-1848.
IN London, although within its vast bounds a whole nation
seems to carry on its life, men are still citizens, notwith-
standing that in many respects the exactions of that relation
are necessarily modified by the habits of the people. With
regard to "public life," however, any careful limitation of
duty cannot be carried out, and one in Dr. Beaumont's
position is compelled, when resident in the metropolis, to
devote his time and attention to the assistance of benevo-
lent and religious undertakings of every class on the scale
of a nation rather than of a city. The vast amount of spe-
cial labour which this obligation involved in the Doctor's
case pressed very hardly on him, for he could not and would
not evade it, entailed as it was by his very wide reputation
and still wider charity and liberality; nor could he nor
would he renounce or neglect his connections and duties in
other parts of the country, though these were of course
themselves additional to his regular ministerial labours. The
peculiar calls which it made on his already overtasked exer-
tions operated occasionally to disincline him towards a Lon-
don residence; yet he had for it a very great affection and,
though it grieved him to leave Liverpool, it was not without
pleasure in his new location that he found himself in 1845
once more an inhabitant of the metropolis. The following
letters to his eldest daughter and to the writer, who remained
at Liverpool for a short time after his father's departure,
describe the removal from Southport, where his family spent
a few weeks at the sea-side, to his new home.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
275
TO HIS DAUGHTER MRS. MILNE.
"Southport, 16th Sept., 1845.
My dear Fanny,-I have been happy to hear of your movements
from time to time, since the morning of your departure from us at Liver-
pool, bearing away with you a new name and a new condition and a new
destination. You may now be fairly said to have entered on the voyage
of life-you have commenced to traverse its wide ocean, having hitherto,
so to speak, just crept or rather glided along its shore. May the Pilot of
Galilee ever guide your bark and fill its sails with propitious breezes!
"Our time is wearing away at Southport-we expect to quit it to-
morrow, and as we are on the eve of leaving it, all seem to find out that
they like it. Thus it often is with us-when called to part with scenes and
objects we seem just capacitated properly to appreciate them. I am
scarcely quite determined as to our course. There is a steamer from this
place to-morrow morning at nine o'clock to Blackpool, and I have half a
mind to go thither by it, and to proceed thence to London on Thursday
morning. I must be there that night all being well. I suppose that you
will be coming up to join us there before long, and you will find us at 10,
Harpur Street, Bloomsbury, where we shall be happy to receive you.
"The children all seem delighted with Southport, and will perhaps be
quite as much so with London, when they have been a little time there.
"With kind regards to Milne, I remain, my dear Fanny,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
· 10, Harpur Street, Bloomsbury,
London, 20th Sept., 1845.
My dear Joseph,-I was glad to receive yours this morning which
duly reached me at my new address. We left Southport on Thursday
morning at a quarter-past seven. Being numerous in persons and our
packages multitudinous, I engaged an omnibus holding eight inside and,
placing ourselves within it and our various effects without it, we made
our way direct to the Euxton station on the North Union Line, six miles
on this side of Preston. We reached it about twenty minutes past ten,
and just had comfortable time to unload our stack of luggage and book
ourselves before the train came up; and at twenty minutes to eleven we
were moving on the rail direct for London. The day, though squally
and wet from nine to eleven, became afterwards fine, clear and bracing,
and we had a prosperous voyage through the air, a safe transit along the
metal-for I can scarcely call our journey one by land, seeing we never
touched it except for half an hour at Birmingham, where the ladies
refreshed themselves. All dined, somehow or other, except myself—I
being too busy in attending to my charge to find time to patronise the
table department. We reached Birmingham about half-past three, and
were at the mercy of the great cast-iron horse at four and, having a car-
276
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
riage to ourselves, we harmonized well and we pushed along at a rapid
though not at an 'express' speed. About seven, or rather half-past six, we
paused in our career some ten minutes at Wolverton, where we all
stretched our legs, relieved from carriage limits, and satisfied ourselves
with Vantini's capital tea and accompaniments. In that pleasant exer-
cise I had leisure to unite, nor was I disinclined to do so, having fasted
since half-past six, and then I only broke fast but very slightly. By the
bye how many ways there are of getting on in the world, and how suc-
cessful when worked with a little genius and pushed with zeal and
application! That same Vantini who took the refreshment room at
Wolverton on a lease is making ten thousand a-year or more! He
gave his partner thirty thousand pounds after three years to quit the
concern!
“But―to return from this short digression-we maintained our speed
from Wolverton and reached the Euston station about 9 o'clock, where
we should have arrived at 8.45 according to the railway bill. We found
Messrs. Reece and Durieu, the circuit stewards, waiting for us at the
station, who gave us a hearty welcome and procured for us two coaches,
such as are seen in these days only in London-so vast and high and
capacious and antique are they-and, having seen all our luggage safely
placed on and in them, we took our places, the stewards bore us off
in triumph and at half-past nine we entered this house, our new place of
residence. It is large, convenient, comfortable and respectable—the
situation pretty good.
"Your mother grew impatient with the journey; Mary bore it best
among the girls; Susan tolerated it passively; and Sarah suffered most
from its irksomeness. Tommy bore it very well indeed, only sleeping
when it became dusk. John was the valiant knight from Southport to
Euxton, and from Euxton to Euston-never sleeping, never flagging,
never pausing in taking in impressions and letting them out and off
again with improvement. He bore up magnificently well and failed
never. Altogether the whole undertaking was fortunate, and its ac-
complishment and conclusion safe and happy.
But, this being Saturday, I cannot now proceed further, but must
reserve more serious matters for my next. I am glad to receive so satis-
factory an account of your proceedings with your Chinese teacher.
"I am your affectionate father,
“Joseph BEAUMONT.”
The Queen Street circuit is one of the most important of
the Wesleyan districts, and in it the Doctor found a very wide
and open field for usefulness which he exerted himself with
distinguished success to cultivate and improve. He was con-
nected in his labours with some able and zealous colleagues
between whom and himself there was much regard and esteem
-his fellow-ministers during his appointment in that circuit
R
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
277
being the Revs. W. Barton, B. Gregory, J. Stanley and W.
Davenport—and he entered on those labours with every pros-
pect of the happiness and usefulness which had hitherto at-
tended him and which did not forsake his exertions at Queen
Street.
•
In the autumn of 1845 the writer accompanied his father
on a visit to Ireland, and it is with the most lively pleasure
that he calls to mind the period during which they were then
companions, which, short though it was, was the most ex-
tended holiday that for many years the Doctor allowed himself.
They spent some time together at Stillorgan Park, in the
county Dublin, the seat of a family connection and a place pos-
sessing in itself much beauty and many attractions and situate
within easy reach of Dublin and of the most beautiful spots
in its vicinage as well as of the charming scenery of the
neighbouring county of Wicklow. The beauties surround-
ing him here he enjoyed with an abandon and delight which
perhaps could hardly be obtained in England, where he could
never penetrate into a place so remote but that he was well
known or find any absolute freedom even for a week or two
from the demands which, with all his readiness to meet them,
pressed heavily upon him, however carefully he might en-
deavour to remove himself from the circle of his professional
and public life. In Ireland however it was not so difficult to
remain in peace. By presenting himself only to a certain set
of Dublin' friends he secured this rare enjoyment, and he re-
peatedly said that since thirty years previously this was the
only period at which he had felt that even for a few days he
could call himself his own. Pleasant indeed was it during
the continuance of this visit to partake of the high and
genial spirits and the endless flow of brilliant social quali-
ties which such entire and unwonted freedom from his ordi-
nary labours seemed to develope even to an unusual degree.
It is not easy to throw a gloom over an Irish country house
with a complement of visitors, but the writer (who remained
at Stillorgan after his father's departure) well remembers
how perceptible was the change when the latter left-every
one felt that the weather was a good deal colder and
Christmas nearer at hand than it had seemed with him
amongst them.
.
278
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
•
One recognition indeed took place during this visit under
somewhat entertaining circumstances. Daniel O'Connell was
then at or possibly just passing from the zenith of his wonder-
ful influence; and one "rent-day," when in Dublin, Dr.
Beaumont presented himself in the then famous Concilia-
tion Hall. The popular idol recognised his auditor at once
and gave him a glance of intelligence full of the extraor-
dinary humour which his brilliant blue eye and vivid coun-
tenance expressed inimitably. The Doctor had little idea
however of what this meant until the eloquent agitator took
for his subject the Saxon, and in particular the Dissenting op-
position to the Maynooth grant. Presently, after adminis-
tering some passing cuts to other classes who objected to its
continuance, he came to the Methodists, and on these he
dilated with immense energy and humour, his face radiant
with fun as he looked at Dr. Beaumont. After exposing all
their weaknesses and demolishing all their virtues entirely to
the satisfaction of his audience and much to the amusement
of some of them, he rolled out in a rich brogue and with a
quaint leer at the distinguished Methodist at his side-" And
these good people talk about Popery do they, my boys?
Faith, they may well talk about it for none have a better
right, don't ye think now? Some of us know better than
any of us would tell that there's more Popery than Roman
Popery, and these Methodists with all their fine talk have got
an elegant Pope of their own," &c. &c. Capital was it to
hear the Doctor in the evening tell this story over the dinner
table with the raciness and the humorous embellishments
with which he was wont to give such anecdotes.
At this period a new movement, with the object of realising
to some extent veritable Christian union, arose under the
name of the Evangelical Alliance. No object called forth
more genuine sympathy from Dr. Beaumont than that pro-
posed by the originators of that alliance and to it he gave his
hearty support, and he was prominent among its first promoters.
He entertained however from the first a doubt whether an ob-
ject of that nature would not probably be found beyond the
sphere of associated action. Indeed, much as he valued
such action, he was, as has already been observed, fully alive
to the defects and infirmities which it developes in what-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
279
ever form it is employed. Such defects he considered were
easily counterbalanced when there was a definite course of
action to be pursued by recognised means in order to pro-
duce a result definite, objective and, so to speak, material.
Perhaps he would have extended the scheme of the Evan-
gelical Alliance even wider than others of its advocates,
but at the same time he considered it more as a cordial
expression of the common Christian feelings of its members
and a means of intercommunion on religious subjects than as
an institution likely to command a wide influence or to achieve
any direct external results. But whatever its scope might
properly be, he thought it excellent in its principle, valuable
as far as it went, and deserving of the support and counte-
nance of all lovers of true Christian charity. This "Alliance"
is alluded to in the following letter to the writer, which was
written during the sittings of one of its "Conferences" at
which he attended.
(6
"99, Islington, Liverpool, 15th Jan., 1846.
'My dear Joseph,-I duly received your letter. yesterday, and I am
obliged to you for it.
"Wearisome as it must have been to you to have been waiting so long
without any certainty as to your destination, and matter of much anxiety
as it has been and is to me that there is yet no certain path before you
clearly marked out, I am not sure that it may not in the end prove to
have been advantageous that you have waited. Your future career is too
important to yourself, too deeply interesting to me for it to be hurried.
Something however must be done on my return home towards a defini-
tive settlement of this all-momentous matter. I shall give my best
attention to your letter at my earliest leisure, and will write to you again
perhaps before my return home.
I have only time to say that I am glad I came to the Union meeting,
but that it will occupy me until late to-night—if not a part of to-morrow;
that as yet therefore I have had no time to attend to anything else, and
that I must give up the idea of returning home until Monday next in
order that I may pay some attention to our own affairs here to-morrow
or on Saturday morning. I shall in this case leave Liverpool for Chel-
tenham on Saturday, preach there on Sunday, and return thence home
on Monday.
"Believe me, my dear son,
"Yours very affectionately,
1
“JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
280
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
In his letters to his children as they are inserted in this
volume there is a great deal with regard to those children
themselves which some may possibly think would much better
have been left out. To do so would certainly have been
more agreeable to the feelings of the individuals addressed
but, inasmuch as his domestic character was perhaps of
all the aspects in which he can be surveyed that which was
most exemplary and perfect, to do so would have been to
sacrifice the completeness to which a biographer should at all
events attempt to attain to feelings which in such a case
should to some extent be overlooked. It may be mentioned
generally however that in his letters to his family there are
numerous passages which it has been thought improper to
publish because of the affectionate partiality with which they
remark on its members; and this may be mentioned because
those passages illustrate strongly the mode in which he fulfilled
his paternal duties and because, whilst it was his great pleasure
to praise his children and he was curious to find out merits in
them and often found them where none existed, the motive of
all this was neither vanity nor blind affection, but it was for the
education of their character and their encouragement in what-
ever was good and desirable. Consequently this tone of flattery
(shall it be called?) ceased as they arrived at maturity, when
he took care to relieve them from the yoke of authority in
order that they might learn to assume that of responsibility and
that he might bind them to himself by the bonds of friendship.
The result of this system was that it was uniformly with his
children a common feeling and a common saying that they
could sustain anything better than their father's displeasure.
At this period his paternal anxiety was excited, as will
have been seen by the letter last inserted, as to the course
in life of his eldest son. The letter there alluded to was
one in which the son had used his greatest exertions to in-
duce his father to permit him to enter the army (for which
he had at that time the usual youthful passion which the
parent anxiously restrained) and in which he had at the
same time suggested the alternative of proceeding to China
-
an expedition which seemed likely to satisfy the youthful
desire of wandering, and which was suggested by the approach-
ing departure of Mr. and Mrs. Milne for that remote land
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
281
and by certain prospects which appeared to open of obtaining
there an advantageous position either in commercial life or in
the diplomatic service: This explanation was required for the
proper understanding of some of Dr. Beaumont's letters which
at this time allude to the subject and which subsequently men-
tion the frustration of the objects with which he sanctioned this
expedition to the east-a frustration which was it will be seen,
and necessarily was, a source of considerable pain to him.
66
TO HIS ELDEST SON,
Gosberton, Lincolnshire, 6th February, 1846.
My dear Joseph,-We had an accident with the train on Monday on
my way to Loughborough which delayed it nearly an hour. The luggage
on the roof of a first-class carriage took fire (it was supposed through a
spark from the engine) and a good many carpetbags, bandboxes, port-
manteaus and other impedimenta with their contents were destroyed. All
the passengers, three gentlemen and three ladies, were sufferers, losers
that is, by this conflagration-except myself. But lo! on arriving at
Rugby where the tickets were called for, mine was not forthcoming and
of course I had to pay my fare again.
"I could not let this day pass without writing at least a line or two to
you to express my hearty congratulations on this your birthday that
you have now completed your sixteenth year. May you have many happy
returns of your natal day; and, as you have now put away the boy, the
schoolboy, and have become a man in knowledge, in sentiments and
feelings, in views and in capacious enterprise, I wish and pray that you
may be preserved in health and wealth and that God may prosper you
with all happiness.
"Never doubt the truth of the New Testament aphorism that 'godli-
ness is profitable for all things.' Exercise yourself therefore unto godli-
ness and, in whatever walk of life you may hereafter move, and in what-
ever part of the globe you may be led to sojourn, you may be happy and
useful, honourable and influential. You may and no doubt will meet
with things painful and disappointing but, fearing God and walking in
diligence and uprightness before men, all will be well and God shall crown
your life with loving kindness and load it with his bounties. May He
bless you and keep you, may He cause His face to shine upon you and
give you peace—that all-comprehensive boon.
"You disappointed me at Quorndon, and I received no letter until I
returned from Hucknall to Nottingham last night at half-past ten or
rather near eleven. I cannot and need not advert to the subject of the
departure for China, as I expect to be home to-morrow afternoon at three
o'clock or half-past three.
“I never was in bed last night, and left Nottingham this morning at
three o'clock by mail-coach for Newark, so that was at Nottingham
E
1
282
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
and close to the house in which you were received into the world, that
very day sixteen years after your birth. I left Newark at seven and
reached this place about noon, and I have preached this afternoon to a
great crowd, have now to encounter a monster 'tea-meeting' and have
to preach in the evening again.
"At present I have not time to add more, but beg that you will accept
my sincere congratulations on the return of your birthday, and my
warmest wishes for your future well-being and well-doing. God ever
bless you, my dear son! I am
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
A vast number of descriptions in various tones and styles
are to be found both in works of travel and of fiction of
partings from old England under every variety of circum-
stances. But did the reader ever contemplate, when saunter-
ing in any of the ports of departure on the Channel coast,
what worlds of sensations of the most acute kind were
agitating the breasts of the many unoccupied visitors who
seemed indeed as if they were merely passing through to the
Isle of Wight or to Torquay with the prospect of returning in a
few days to their own hearths? True, there are boatmen and
touters, and phlegmatic old Indians and business-like pro-
ceedings enough to justify entire disregard of this aspect of
what is going on about you, but nevertheless it is true also
that, amidst this bustle and amusement and life there are
hearts around you to whom it all is utterly nothing, which are
dead to it—and, though your neighbour may look comfortable
enough, even the elaborate stoicism of civilized society will not
prove adequate to sustain his affectation of ease so as to pre-
vent the discovery of the falsehood by one who cares to dive
below the varnish of a smile: Many are the thousands that
have in generation after generation gazed eagerly and fear-
fully, dreading lest they should see their ship looming in the
offing, from the spot on which you saunter so easily over that
expanse of water, and dreary and desert as it seemed to them,
soon to extend itself in almost immeasurable leagues between
them and those dear ones whose touch seems at such a time
pregnant with a marvellous magnetism. How their hearts
have ached and yearned and sometimes broken in the con-
templation of the future or the thought of the past—the dear,
bright, golden past! How the precious moments, big with
..
་
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
283
emotions intensified almost to an agony, have seemed at once
to drone their way through ages and to flit with a lightning
speed, have been counted, watched, anticipated, seized,
mourned over! And here and there and all around there
have been
66
'Partings such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated. Who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes?"
If you have not experienced such sensations or some very
similar ones, reader, you have a large part of your soul yet
unexplored, and that although you may be never so sage
or cold or "advanced in life;" for not only the tenderest
and weakest, but the strongest and noblest (aye, and the
hardest and the meanest who perhaps never knew before that
they were troubled with anything in the shape of love or
sentiment) have under such circumstances owned a "touch
of nature."
But surely never did any one bear a part in such a separa-
tion who was more bowed down by his grief than was Dr.
Beaumont, notwithstanding all the support which, beyond a
doubt, high Christian feeling and an habitual trust in God
do afford in such trials, when in the spring of 1846 two of
his children parted from him to perform their voyage to China.
He attempted manfully to console and cheer them with his
last words, but as he was borne back to the shore he was
broken-hearted, and long was it before he could with all his
constitutional elasticity of disposition recover his wonted
cheerfulness and self-possession. Those children well re-
member how his first letters to them were tear-stained and
filled with pathetic expressions of grief, and those of his
family who were left with him can tell how for long after this
separation they would on entering his study find him in tears,
sitting like one bewildered, gazing blankly at his fire or
at his desk. With regard to his daughter who had died
he often said to his wife that they should be "proud and
happy to have a child in heaven," but his happiness and pride
in his family who were living was greatly reduced if he had
them not about him and felt not his own devotion to them
reciprocated in everyday life. Those who did not know Dr.
$
284
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
..
Beaumont might perhaps be led to conceive that a man who
journeyed constantly as he did from no arbitrary necessity
found but little enjoyment in domestic life, but no idea could be
more entirely opposite to the truth than such a one. His chosen
and excellent pleasure was to be amongst his family; to attain
that pleasure even for a few hours he frequently underwent
great inconvenience and fatigue; and, prominent and distin-
guished as was his public career, nobly as he worked and
fought and suffered in his vocation (for he had more than
enough of the turbulent and painful to encounter in his public
life), these pages would certainly fail in giving a true idea of
his character did they not exhibit him most prominently in
this domestic light.
The following was one of the first letters addressed by him
to the writer after his departure for the East.
"London, May 15, 1846.
My dear Joseph,-It is five weeks to-day since I saw your face and
heard your voice—since I left you on board the vessel which is still bear-
ing you further and further away from me, and which, ere I quitted its
deck, was on its voyage, its long, long voyage to that country which I shall
never see and which it was and is my affliction that you were eager to
see. I much feel, and that every day, your absence; I greatly and deeply
lament it.
You have just reached an age, at which all that had previously been
done for you was putting itself forth in its proper manifestations, ex-
citing my satisfaction and kindling my most pleasing anticipation. How-
ever it is done; you are gone, and I may never see you more in this world!
I shall not allow myself to express all that I have felt and suffered in
consequence of your leaving us for such a distant scene.
I pray God
that he may graciously condescend to give me strength of mind,
courage of heart, to prevent gloomy dejection and selfish murmuring
on my part. I trust and pray that you may be preserved safe through
the passage, and that your way may be opened well before you, and
that God may prosper your great enterprise-for great it is in itself and
in its consequences. But you must prepare your mind for whatever may
be permitted-and how much of what is unpleasant, disappointing and
painful may await you, who can tell? Such contemplations fling their
portion of shadow over my mind in the constant heavings of my thoughts
in regard to you.
"You have to mind your person and be the conservator of your health
and you should be most determined and unflinching in every course of
conduct that either directly or indirectly has a bearing on your personal
condition and bodily health. Temperance, nay, abstemiousness, it is indis
pensable, essential, vital that you should most strenuously maintain—lay
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
285
it down as a law, a principle, a most important, sacred, life-preserving,
axiom. Indeed, I doubt not that, in the climate which you have chosen,
this is the salvation of health. Exercise an uncompromising, unsleeping
firmness and vigilance over yourself in this matter. Everything depends
upon it for the present and the future, for your well-being and well-
doing.
Then, be religious. Walk and live in the fear of the Lord. For your
own sake do so, as the fear of the Lord is the principal wisdom, the
highest, the deepest, the most beneficial and valuable. Unite yourself
with the Christian people of the place in which you may reside, and thus
be a companion of them that fear God. For the sake of your adopted
country be the Christian, the religious man throughout, from your first
landing till you shall be removed from it altogether. Let the Chinese see
in you what Christianity really is and does-how just and fair, how kind
and faithful, how temperate, how diligent, how forbearing and self-deny-
ing it makes its recipient and subject. Be religious from the first, and
you will have little trouble, little inconvenience, little annoyance, and
much satisfaction and conscious delight, and public respect as well as
self-respect. Religion will then be a habit, a part of yourself, and will
be the solace, the invigoration, the guardian, and the flower and crown
of life to you.
I can say nothing to you respecting your course; all is in your own
hands. I can only hope and trust, pray and confide. You will need
much prudence and discretion, qualities which are not always found in
one so young. Seek direction from an infallible source, and pray for
blessing from Him who is always nigh to them that call upon Him, to
such as call upon Him out of a pure heart.
I was at Oxford on Tuesday last and was taken over the colleges by
Adam Farrar. He inquired much and particularly after you, and wished
to know how to address you. Mr. Howson has left the Collegiate at
Liverpool, and is appointed by the Duke of Argyll tutor to his son.
Political news you will of course learn through the press of your new
locality, and from our own. We have nothing very new. Sir Robert's
Corn Bill has not yet passed the Commons. I attended and spoke at a
public meeting in Exeter Hall on Monday of the British and Foreign
School Society at which was present a somewhat unusual assemblage of
men distinguished in public life. It was presided over by Lord John
Russell, who spoke well, as did also the Marquis of Lorne, Lord Kin-
naird, Lord Monteagle, the Bishop of Norwich and others.
:
"If I do not send money to you this mail I shall take care to do so by
the next. You should be correct in keeping accounts for yourself; be
exact; know your own circumstances perfectly at all times, and keep
within the limits of your means. I wish you to write full particulars of
your actual condition and real prospects; hide nothing, keep back
nothing even of what may be unpleasant or unfavourable. Let me
know all, even should it be adverse and painful.
:
286
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT:
?
:
Į
!
"May God bless you and keep you in all your ways! So prays
"Your ever affectionate father,
TO HIS WIFE.
""
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
""
Bristol, 29th July, 1846.
My dear Susan,―This morning the Conference opened at nine
o'clock. There were several vacancies in the hundred, all of which had
to be filled up according to seniority except one. That one had to come
into the legal hundred by election of all members of Conference who had
travelled fourteen years and upwards. Robert Newton proposed Mr.
Robert Young with commendation; Mr. Fowler then proposed myself.
I of course acknowledged my election, which followed, and this I did in
very few words. The election of President then ensued, when Atherton
was elected by 208 votes.
"I have an engagement at the Isle of Wight on the 16th of August
and hope to be able to spend a few days there on my return. On the
19th August the great Convention of the Evangelical Alliance meets, and
I must be at home at any rate by that time. Here the air is hot and pene-
trating, and I am a good deal affected, melted and subdued by the high
temperature which prevails. Mr. Jacob Stanley junior is down for
Queen Street circuit in Mr. Barton's place. With love to Mary and
Susan, John and Thomas, I remain, my dear Susan,
"Yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
Bristol, 10th August, 1846.
My dear Susan,-In reply to yours which I received this morning, I
have to say that I really scarcely know what to say about John. I am
too anxious about him to say that he should go to Ramsgate. If I had
been remaining any time at Southampton I should have said, let him
come there with yourself; but I shall not be able to reach it until
Saturday, as I have to go on Thursday to Tintern Abbey, having a chapel
to open there, or rather at a place within a mile of it, on that day.
'It will be Friday afternoon before I can return to Bristol and so, as
I said, I shall not reach Southampton until Saturday. Yesterday I
preached at Kingswood in the morning, but the crowd was most oppres-
sive. In the afternoon I stole into the Tabernacle,' a large Independent
Chapel there, just opposite the house of Mr. Budgett, my host. I went
in slily and took my place under the gallery, at the back amongst the
colliers, when, lo! to my consternation, the reverend preacher, clothed
in gown and bands, approached me with the most earnest entreaty that
I would preach. I assured him that I could not, as I had preached
that morning and had to preach this evening, and my strength would
not admit of my preaching that afternoon. He then wished me to leave
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
287
the chapel, and I therefore withdrew, and he resumed his pulpit and pro-
ceeded with the service!
"At night I went to the school, and spent a couple of hours in solitude,
walking about the garden and adjacent fields to which I was so well
accustomed forty years ago! It was a rather solemn and edifying
evening. I felt all the deeper interest as I shall never pace those grounds
again--that school being doomed.
“I returned to Bristol this morning, and this evening I have to preach
here, in the Conference chapel, and how thankful I shall be when it is
over! I am not very well, being languid and oppressed. I do not know
whether it will be in my power to get to Bath-I fear not. I am pressed
and oppressed. Nor have I yet had time to call on Mr. Wills, but
I'll see whether I can do so to-morrow.
((
My love to all-Johnnie and all.
"I am your affectionate husband,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE SAME.
"10, Harpur Street, London, 19th Sept., 1846.
My dear Susan,-I shall be in your present neighbourhood next
week. I shall glide past it on my way to Wales on Sunday night or
early on Monday morning, and on Tuesday morning I return to it on my
way to Bradford where I have to preach in the afternoon and evening of
that day. I leave Newport by the steam-packet on that morning at six
o'clock, and if I reach Bristol in time shall come to Bath by the train
that arrives at nine A.M. If I fail in reaching by that train, I shall come
on by the train that reaches Bath at ten minutes past twelve, and shall
have to be conveyed to Bradford by gig, so that if I get to Bath by nine
I may see you for an hour or two before proceeding to Bradford. I shall
be obliged to return from Bradford to Bath after preaching at night, as
I must leave Bath the same night by the down train, at ten minutes to
one in the night for Plymouth, where I have to open a chapel on Wed-
nesday morning. I had a desire to have gone across from Plymouth
to Tenby in Wales, having been most kindly pressed by Mrs. W. and her
daughters to visit them there. I much need some few days' repose in
such a place as Tenby, which has famous sea air, water and sands; and
I really was contriving to have effected this visit, but I am afraid I shall
be obliged to abandon it, as I cannot be released from my Sunday en-
gagement at Birstall. I have tried to emancipate myself, but I am con-
quered, and now my little excursion seems knocked on the head. If I
find that I cannot get across to Wales readily from Plymouth by Ilfra
combe the probability is that I shall return direct, and I may possibly,
be able to spend a little time with you at Bath before I proceed further,
to my destination for Sunday, which is at Birstall near Leeds.
"I do not feel that it will be in my power to write to China to-day,
indeed I have no heart to do so, until I obtain tidings from thence.
288
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
!
Near six months have gone since I saw the light of dear J.'s and F.'s
faces and not a line-not a word, not a breath! It is indeed going a
way that I have never gone before!
"John comes home on Tuesday-and indeed my reluctance to permit
him to go away is more than justified by the indisposition which he has
suffered whilst away, though I understand that he is now well again.
"My next journey will be one of my long, longest absences from home,
as I expect to be away ten days. Pray when are you returning? Susan
and Sarah will be solitary enough for some time to come. But the
public is an inexorable master, and some of us have rather a hard duty
in yielding obedience to the imperial sway thereof.
I remain your affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The following letter alludes to a pamphlet called "The
Case Tested," written by the friend to whom it was addressed
on the subject of the revivalist proceedings of the Rev. J.
Caughey and the discountenance which they had met with
from part of the Wesleyan Conference.
"
TO W. B. CARTER, ESQ.
"
London, 5th March, 1847.
My dear Sir, I thank you for your pamphlet on Mr. Caughey, which
is I think a very kind, well-conducted argument in behalf of the Con-
ference measures in reference to that most useful person. I think you
have made the best, the very best of the proceedings of the Conference.
"I gladly accept of your kind invitation to be your guest at the open-
ing of Halifax Chapel. I am under engagement to be there on Sunday
the 4th of April, God willing, and I shall hope to reach you on the pre-
ceding day. We are all in a tolerable state of health, though I feel
myself declining, albeit a Swiss clergyman who heard me preach on Sun-
day said that I did so 'like a man of five-and-twenty,' and that he thought
that either I ought to have the salary of the Bishop of London, or that
he ought to be made to work as I do! I do not think that either the one
or the other will take place. We can but work while it is day, for the
night cometh!
'With very kind regards to Mrs. Carter and family,
“I am, my dear Sir, your affectionate friend,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The views which he had entertained in sanctioning his eldest
son's proceeding to the east were disappointed by various cir-
cumstances, and this failure was of course a matter of great
concern to him. In all the letters which he wrote to his son
while abroad the burden was mainly, indeed it was entirely,
the expression of the most active sympathy and the most
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
289
:
anxious solicitude as to the happiness of his child and of
encouragement to return home there to commence the serious
business of life. The following letter may be inserted as in-
stancing his solicitude.
"My dear Joseph,-
London, 15th June, 1847.
“I had fully made up my mind to expect your return, and I had begun
to look out for your arrival when your letter from Hong-kong informed me
that you had made up your mind to go to Shanghae. I rather regret-
ted it though I do not blame you for deciding to do so. The more I have
thought of the matter the more I incline to the opinion that you had
better return. Your account of the country to which you have gone is
by no means favourable or hopeful. And even if you should succeed at
Shanghae (after the loss of a year), and should your position prove an
advantageous one, it can I presume be so only in one sense, and that is
pecuniarily; and in pursuit of that one object you may make too great
sacrifices and run too great risks. Whereas, returning home now, you
are still of an age at which you might advantageously adopt some profes-
sion. You might attend the University for the next three or four years,
and then be fitted for some action; and I still think that, unless at
Shanghae you meet with positive success and large prospect, return
would be preferable than to be creeping.
"However in a great measure the matter is in your own hand, as it is
impossible for me to take into consideration the circumstances which sur
round you in China and which are elements in judging of what is best to
be done. You must decide wisely, firmly and promptly. Do not let the
thought that it may be unpleasant for you to return sway your conclu-
sion, as you will be just as welcome at home as if you had never gone
out at all. I think that if you come back now, at once, without the loss
of more time, you may take a professional course which with God's bless-
ing will be a far more respectable, happy and useful one than anything
which is attainable by you in China-but again I must say you must
decide for yourself. Let no sense of wounded pride or shame deter
you from returning-that course, irrespective of such influences, clearly
appearing to me the best and wisest one.
"I do not quite understand what you mean by the Indian navy, an en-
trance upon which you think would suit you, nor do I know by what steps
or in what way I could facilitate such a step, supposing that I did not.
feel any material objection to adopting such a measure on your behalf.
I think you are fitted for some more beneficial and dignified action and
destination. But a truce to all opinions, speculations and arguments!
Time and Providence must reveal the next stage in this long, tiresome,
hard chapter which it seems from your description of the peril that enclosed
you, was very near a sudden and tragic termination. We are very thank-
ful for your escape and trust that you will be more cautious for the future
U
290
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
how you venture on forbidden ground, or risk such violent opposition
and infuriated dislike.*
Perhaps Sarah will report family matters to you, in which indeed we
have no change. John has just finished another term at St. Saviour's and I
feel at a loss how to dispose of him. I do not think of sending him this
August to Kingswood school, and I am quite undecided whether to send
him to University or to King's College school, but a few weeks must de-
termine this matter. Tom is growing tall and must be sent to school
somewhere this autumn.
Here the weather has been very fine lately, and everything in the vege-
table kingdom in England wears a pleasing and promising aspect. In Ire-
land too it is so, with the exception of a partial potato blight which has
again appeared. You will ere this have learned that O'Connell died at Genoa
more than a month ago on his way to Rome, also that Dr. Chalmers died
suddenly at his own house in Edinburgh about a fortnight ago. O'Connell's
heart is gone to Rome and his body comes to Dublin. The repeal move-
ment will very likely struggle on, but in a ricketty way, and will probably
gradually expire. The monetary market and trade generally are greatly
depressed and in a state of adversity. The Parliament is drawing towards
a close, and when it breaks up it will die and a new election ensues. The
Whigs retain their position and it is likely will do so for some time. But
I need not give you any general news as you will learn it from the 'Times'
which I am sending with some other papers.
*
“This day week I go to Liverpool to preach the anniversary sermons
of Great Homer Street Chapel the following day. The Conference
* The writer was in the habit when in Canton of making extended excur-
sions in the neighbourhood in search of amusement or to satisfy his curio-
sity. The condition of affairs in that district made such explorations
always somewhat hazardous, but the event alluded to here was really a
remarkable escape by which he and a party of seven others, chiefly naval
`and military officers, were preserved from a horrible death at the hands
of a mob on the occasion of a visit which they paid to a large and interest-
ing town, called Fuh-shan, situated at some distance from Canton. Thou-
sands-the whole town in fact-turned out determined to end the excursions
of the "foreign devils," to whom the Chinese officers were quite unable to
give efficient protection and who were exposed for hours to imminent
peril of being torn to pieces by this wild mob. The coolness of the dis-
tinguished explorer of the Euphrates, General Chesney, who was one
of the party (all of whom were armed only with fowling-pieces) restrained
the more sanguine from a rash attack upon the multitude which could only
have resulted in their own destruction, and but for this and the extra-
ordinary and courageous devotion of a Chinese mandarin none of them
would have returned to Canton alive. This disturbance and the refusal
of the Chinese authorities to inflict adequate punishment on the town was
the immediate cause of the expedition against that city in 1847.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
291
falls to be held there this year, and I shall reach it about the 21st July
and shall remain probably for near three weeks. Mr. L.'s will be my
home whilst in attendance at the Conference, which will be most agreeable
to me every way, and it is probable that your mother will accompany me
there.
My health remains pretty good, but I am conscious of the advance of
years and I am not physically as I was in the pulpit, nor can I expect
ever to be so again. And now I shall close-this being Saturday and I
not having much time to devote to correspondence.
"The suspense and failure and anxiety attendant on your whole move-
ment have been great indeed, and some change for the better and brighter
and happier in a scene so dark will be hailed by us all with more than
ordinary acceptance and gratitude. It is well that hope springs eternal
in the human breast,' and that the elasticity of the human mind is so
great and its resources so varied and so vast. I have to write to Fanny
and therefore conclude, subscribing myself
"Your affectionate father,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In the summer of 1847 he paid his first visit to France
where he secured a few days' relaxation. Writing to one of
his family from Boulogne he expresses the most youthful en-
joyment of the novel scene which that Anglo-French town
presented to him—he remarks "I am in France—is it true?
It seems a French town inlaid with English-a human mosaic!
I have strolled about a little and find the place altogether more
interesting than I expected. I have moreover bathed in the
sea and have dined at the table-d'hôte at the 'Folkestone,'
which I consider no small achievement, I assure you, as I
participated in more than half of the numerous courses. On
the whole the dinner was acceptable and delectable, a very
pleasant and satisfying proceeding, although the assembly was
chiefly English.* As to the women-they are so neat and
their dress is so sweet and their ad-dress so soft and pleasant
that it is wonderful I have never been in France before!"
The following letter to one of his daughters (changing the
topic somewhat rapidly) well expresses his solicitude as to the
spiritual life and happiness of his children.
* How many travellers have thus thought of the table-d'hôte system
displayed at the English hotels of Boulogne and Paris! How many have
maintained their opinion on a more intimate acquaintance with the genuine
tables-d'hôte of France and Germany proper?
292
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
“London, 21st July, 1847.
My dear Child,-I have this morning received your letter, dated the
18th inst., and happy I am to receive a letter from you at all, and
especially such a letter.
“I am thankful to God for what his grace has wrought in you whilst
at Birmingham, and through the instrumentality of Mr. Caughey and
other good people whom you found there. It is indeed a great blessing
which you have obtained, a precious salvation which you have sought
and found. Its worth can never be told, and I most fervently and affec-
tionately congratulate you on the happy state into which you have now
been introduced. You do well to make mention of the loving-kindness
of the Lord which is so great towards you, and it is gratifying to me
every way to learn that the Lord has thus met with you by the way, that
he has pardoned your sins and put a new song into your mouth, even the
song of deliverance and redemption. It is right to show forth the praise
of the Lord who has done such great things for you and to tell of his
wondrous works in the saving of your soul. You have to pray as well as
praise, to watch as well as pray, to be humble and thoughtful, musing
on all the goodness and mercy which the Lord hath shown you. On
your return you should unite yourself to a class-but of this more here-
after. I am sorry that I have not time to write to you at length, but I
assure you again that I rejoice with you in the happiness you derive from
believing in Christ. Cleave to him with full purpose of heart, and you
will be preserved in the good old paths in which you have already found
rest to your soul.
"How soon do you please to return home?—for you have now been
a long time at Redditch. I leave home for the Conference on Friday
morning and on Sunday I preach at Rochdale. I hope to reach Liver-
pool on Monday morning by ten o'clock. I am at Mr. L.'s there, but if
you write to me to Liverpool address me at Brunswick Chapel. I cannot
receive a letter from you in reply to this before I leave on Friday morning.
May God bless you, my dear, and keep you from evil, and sustain
you with seasonable and sufficient supplies of grace, that you may glorify
God who has so greatly blessed you. To him I commend you.
C
Give my love to Mr. and Mrs. and Miss T. I remain, my dear child,
Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
"Liverpool, 9th August, 1847.
My dear Sarah,-I have received your letter this morning and, in refer-
ence to Bradford, my visit there on this journey is out of the question. I have
been entreated to preach next Sunday at Scarborough (for the missions), and
urged to stop & week there to recruit myself after the Conference. I have
been pressed for many months together to give next Sunday to Southport,
to the opening of a new chapel there, and have been assured how much I
should need to recruit and refresh myself for a few days there after the
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
293
..
cares and conflicts of the scene by which I am now surrounded. I have
been asked with great pertinacity to preach next Sunday at Cheltenham,
anniversary sermons, and have been tempted with many assurances of
the great benefit to my health which a few days' sojourn there would yield
me. I have been invited to preach on Sunday next at Birstall, where I
have many friends, anniversary sermons for the chapel which I opened
there a year ago, and many inducements and arguments have been put
forth to ensure a compliance with this application. I have been pressingly
besought to preach on Sunday next at Oldham Street Chapel, Manchester,
in behalf of the Sunday-schools there. I have also been pressed to preach
at Leeds, in Brunswick Chapel there, at the launch of their great school.
To some half-dozen other places besides these I have been urged to give
the coming Sabbath-day, and all manner of inducements have been put
forth to secure me for it, but I have felt all along that Queen Street cir-
cuit has greater claims upon me than any circuit in Britain, and, God
willing, I shall be in that chapel on Sunday. I have firmly refused
every application, and hope to reach home on Saturday next, but there is
no prospect that Conference will close before Friday, and I cannot leave
until its termination.
Perhaps in the number of places from which I have had invitations
for the next Sabbath, but which I have not mentioned, I ought to have
included Brunswick Chapel in which I am now writing to you. I have
been again and again urged to preach for the Sunday-school and day-
school connected with this chapel, and you know how many reasons I
have for complying with such an appeal, but I have been unrelenting in
this instance also in favour of Queen Street, and now I have finished this
long narrative of the constant struggle which I have had to prevent in-
trusion on my appointment for the 15th of August.
Yesterday I was at Padiham, opening a chapel there, and preached
morning and evening. A very wet day but a very good day, and the
collection in that little place was £142!
I
“Your cousin seems to wish some intelligence about the 'Fly-sheets'
engagements, fought here last Friday week; but really it is somewhat
irksome to me to describe a scene in which it so happened that I was a
prominent actor-besides the story is now more than a week old.
made a speech of an hour and a quarter long against the resolution
which passed the Conference on that subject, and you will scarcely
expect me to recite so long a speech, and one of which I had not a line
written, and much of which I cannot now call up again. Perhaps some
of the scribes of this assembly may have taken jottings of the debate
adverted to, and perhaps in conversation you may hear of it.
"Tell M. that Mr. Reece will not be at his class next Wednesday.
But perhaps by the Wednesday following he may have returned, and he
begs me to say how happy he will be to receive her into it. Give my love
to her and say that I think she need not wait for his return to join it.
"I should have said, whilst noticing the proceedings of last Friday
week, that on a second resolution to get up a declaration to be signed by
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#1
the preachers, clearing themselves of all connection with the Fly-sheets,
I was also an opponent, and indeed I felt myself called upon to denounce
the whole business in no very measured terms.
*
"A few days more and I hope to be with you, for I really am tolerably
weary of the Conference and shall be glad when it is over. I have had
no time to call upon any of our friends here, nor have I any prospect
that I shall find opportunity to wait upon any of them, unless it be Mr.
Perrin whom I must somehow or other get to see.
"With love to Mary, Susan, John, Tom, I remain, dear Sarah,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Amongst his multifarious engagements in the summer of
this year was one which may be specified because he felt his
selection to represent the dissenters on that occasion as a
welcome tribute to his character. The Tamworth Bible So-
ciety was warmly patronised by the late Sir Robert Peel and
it was to the anniversary meeting of that society which was
held in this year, under the immediate auspices and presidence
of that statesman, that allusion is here made. For Sir Robert
Dr. Beaumont had a very high respect both in the public and
private aspects of his character. This was not the first occa-
sion on which they had met in public life; but, accustomed as
the Doctor was to the laudations of all classes of men, he was
highly gratified by the cordial manner in which that distin-
guished man expressed to him the happiness which he felt at
meeting and listening to him on that platform.
The following letter was addressed to his daughter in
China.
10, Harpur Street, London, 18th Dec., 1847.
"My dear Fanny,-I was thankful to receive by the last mail a letter
from you, and much interested to hear of the birth, that you had become
again the mother of your son, who I trust is and will be spared to be to
you a solace, a delight and a hope of a kind so precious to loving wives.
I congratulate you on this event, so auspicious and benign, and wait to
receive intelligence that yourself and son are doing well, and that your
new character sits well upon you.
"I am glad that you appreciate your situation at Shanghai. It is well
to acknowledge the goodness of the Almighty who by His Providence
orders all things better for us than we in our ignorance should by our
own feelings determine them for ourselves.
Here, in London and generally through the provinces, we have had
and still have wide-spread sickness and a much increased mortality
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
295
owing to the unprecedented prevalence of influenza. I was in Man-
chester last Sunday, and there I found the epidemic more general than
in London or anywhere else, so far as my personal visits and observa-
tions have gone. My own health has been happily preserved, though I
think I am conscious that my vigour and elasticity and nerve are not
quite what they were. I feel that now I must decrease at least in fresh-
ness and physical power-it is cheering to think that increase in wisdom
and grace is still attainable. But how defective in these I am and ever
have been! I find myself however as full of application and as abundant
in labour as formerly.
"On Monday last I came from Manchester to Winnington Lodge, the
residence of Mr. Pennell, near Northwich. I did not see F. at Man-
chester, for I suppose that like other medical men he would be wholly
occupied with the abounding sickness so that he could not come to
Oldham Street Chapel in which I preached, and my visit was so short
and hurried that it was impossible for me to call upon him.
"So Joseph is on his way to England! His future is as unknown and
as uncertain as ever. God only can bring light out of darkness, and make
crooked things straight and rough things' plain. To His Divine will we
must submit, and His holy purposes will I trust be graciously worked
out.
"I am quite anxious about John. I am not quite satisfied to leave
him at St. Saviour's School. And I am not quite sure that King's
College or University College School would be as good for him as Wood-
house Grove. There he would have most regular habits and fresh air
with fair scholarship and more stimulus and emulation than at St. Sa-
viour's. I am very unwilling to part with him from home, and confess
that, near as Christmas is, I have not fully decided what I shall do with
him. He is growing and is a most intelligent fellow. As to our future
I can say nothing yet about it. I am not anxious myself to continue in
London, but only yesterday I was waited upon by an office-bearer from
Chelsea, to inquire whether I was engaged for next year, and to sound
me in reference to my willingness to go to that circuit. I gave only
general answers, and at present I must wait with confidence that this
matter will be in due time adjusted easily and settled in a way conducive
to our usefulness and comfort. You mention my being President. I do
not think that that will be my lot at present. I pursue a course which
prevents or at least postpones it, but one which is more satisfactory to my
sense of what is right than another which would place me in that situa
tion. I can afford to do without being President, but I cannot afford to
abandon my sense of justice and liberty.
May God bless your son and his dear parents and encompass you all
with his favour as with a shield. To His Almighty care and love I com-
mend you all. I am, dear Fanny,
"Your affectionate father,
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
7
1
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
•
TO THE SAME.
"London, 18th March, 1848.
'My dear Fanny,—I have been very sorry to hear by your late letters
how much indisposed you have been, but I trust that by this time you
have recovered your accustomed health, for if that shall fail you we shall be
sad indeed. I am happy to hear that your boy thrives and prospers, and
I hope he may be spared to be a great happiness to you. My own health
is scarcely so good as it was, but I know not that there is anything
seriously declining further than as advancing years necessitate. I am
now fifty-four, and come there but a few short years and I shall go whence
I shall not return. When I think of the uncertainty of our ever meet-
ing again, what shall I say? We can but work the work of Him that
hath sent us in life's eventful, transient day; but we are taught to pray for
teaching that we may number our days-not our years. I pray God that
his smile and benediction may be multiplied upon you and Mr. Milne.
It is happy that he continues well, so that his duties and enjoyments may
flow on without hindrance.
"All news I suppose you will hear in other letters, and of the non-
arrival of Joseph, of his miserable passage you will conjecture. You will
have heard ere this of the wonderful, total revolution in France. How
vast a change! By the bye, I was meditating a trip thither this summer,
but I am afraid the revolution will break up the party which had been
arranged for that purpose. Public affairs in England are not prospering,
and commerce is much affected by the state of the Continent. It is said
even our Queen has felt very nervous since Louis Philippe's annihilation
politically, and I do not much wonder at it.
"As to our future I can say nothing yet about it. Direct invitations
are not given now till the March quarterly meeting which has not yet
arrived. I am not anxious myself to continue in London, for the inter-
ests of the children would be quite as well secured I think in the
country. The desirableness of continuing in London or not must partly
depend upon what course is pursued with reference to Joseph.
With love to Mr. Milne and the young Anglo-Chinese Beaumont, I
remain, dear Fanny,
"Your affectionate father,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Not yet sated with travel, his eldest son, who returned to
England in the spring of 1848, was again desirous to go abroad.
This time the father strongly opposed the scheme. His good
sense and knowledge of the human heart had led him two
years before to feel that it was all very well to yield to a rest-
less youth's ardour " and so to rein it," but the time had now
come when better and more regular habits were necessary.
It is to this desire of his son's that the following letter which
was written during the Conference of 1848 alludes.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
297
"Hull, 24th July, 1848.
My dear Joseph,—I left Rochdale last night at seven minutes past
eight, having preached to two very large congregations. I came into
Normanton and slept at the hotel, left it by train this morning at half-past
four and reached Hull at seven A.M. I proceeded forthwith to Mr. West's,
found a servant up, though the window-shutters were not down. I found
my way to my bedroom and joined Mr. West and his sister at breakfast.
Your mother was expected and much disappointment was expressed at her
non-arrival.
It is how-
"This forenoon I came down to the chapel and found your letter. At
present I know not what to say to the proposal of Mr.
ever entitled to grave consideration.
You avow that your preference is to go abroad. This I think is not
a happy circumstance. You are the eldest son-between yourself and
another son there is a chasm of six years, and it will be nine or ten years
before John can be of age enough to act with personal and legal force, and
your sisters it is possible may be placed in circumstances calling for frater-
nal assistance. You have already been two years out of England, abroad,
without any product and at a great expenditure, and I cannot approve of
your going abroad again either under Government or otherwise. As to
's proposal,* it is not to me satisfactory after all this protracted wait-
ing and antecedent endeavour that we should take a course which will
have the effect of leaving you cramped and rivetted, unable to rise and
expand into the full dimensions of an independent member of the profes-
sion in which you may have been working. You should certainly I think
be able after all to be something, to be somebody.
"However I may be under some mistake as to what you have said, or
what you have said is itself defective and partial; but it seems that by
this plan some arch will have to be added in order that you may be fitted
to take rank in such a class of functionaries as that you may have a proper
status.
"I am your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The following letter to one of his daughters who was about
proceeding in the direction of one of his journeys illustrates
the manner in which he used to cross and recross the island
in his devotion to his work.
Weymouth, 3rd September, 1848.
My dear Sarah,—I find that it will be very difficult, all but impossible,
for me to return to-morrow night from this place. The last conveyance
from Weymouth to Dorchester is at eight o'clock, the train leaving the
*
Alluding to a suggestion which had been made to adopt a somewhat
anomalous position in the legal profession.
298
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
'
H
latter place for London at ten. I have to attend a meeting to-morrow
night at Portland, and that place is four miles beyond Weymouth; and,
though I should make them let me speak first, I cannot say that I shall
be able to accomplish my departure. It is perhaps, if circumstances shall
combine very favourably, just possible, and that is all that can be said.
If I do not come therefore early on Tuesday morning, you will know why,
and in that case I may be expected on Tuesday afternoon early, and we
must go by the night mail-train at half-past eight and reach Liverpool on
Wednesday morning at five o'clock.
‘I have had an awkward accident this morning. Returning from Port-
land after preaching, the person who drove me contrived to throw the
horse down, and I was thrown out with considerable violence. My knees
are a good deal bruised and, as this handwriting witnesses, my nerves are
a good deal shaken, but otherwise I am not materially injured.
You had better prepare for departure as I said on Monday morning
at eleven and, failing my return in time, we must travel by night. I ar
'Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
am
A difficulty occurred in the determining on Dr. Beaumont's
circuit appointment this year, which caused him a good deal
of annoyance. He had early in the year consented to return to
his old friends at Southwark as their superintendent, but various
circumstances occurred in the course of the season which ren-
dered an adherence to this arrangement extremely undesirable,
though he was especially loth to break off the engagement with
them, remembering how much they had been grieved at his
leaving them in 1833 on his second appointment to Edinburgh.
His appointment to another scene of his former life, the Hinde
Street circuit, was strongly urged and to it he was ultimately
appointed. The society at Southwark however expressed with
great warmth their vexation at being deprived of the services
of one so highly esteemed, and their annoyance caused him no
small amount of embarrassment. But the die was cast and the
reasons for his change of destination were so abundant and
cogent that he felt well satisfied with the result.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
299
CHAPTER XV.
1848-1851.
DR. BEAUMONT was very happily situated in respect of what
is called "the appointment" to Hinde Street in 1848. He
was associated in it with two old colleagues, Messrs. Atherton
and A. Farrar and with Mr. Clegg, and subsequently with
Mr. Arthur and other ministers. The original appointment
of Atherton, Farrar, Beaumont and Clegg, so recently made,
is a sad one now to contemplate. The Doctor and his asso-
ciates in it were mutually bound to one another by more
than ordinary friendship and regard. The three seniors were
men of the highest reputation and great influence in the
Wesleyan body, while Mr. Clegg, though young in years,
was a minister of great promise, possessing considerable
ability, the most unaffected Christianity and devotedness and
the kindest of hearts. Of these four not one is now left
to regret the others; they have all passed away, and Dr.
Beaumont himself was the last of the band to rest from his
labours.
The following letter was addressed to his wife shortly after
his entrance on his new circuit.
66
“Wray, near Lancaster, Sept. 12th, 1848.
My dear Susan,-However awkward and undesirable in itself it is
that I should just now be absent, the good people of the circuit must be
so kind as to excuse me for a few days more as my health really requires
that I shall have entire rest for a short time. I had determined either
to return to Southport or to take an excursion to the Lakes, and at the
request of Mr. Thompson, of Wray, I have fixed upon the latter.
"I was upon the whole glad to receive a letter from Joseph dated
'Lincoln's Inn.' I trust that he may now be regarded as having launched
fairly upon the ocean of human affairs and enterprise. His fortune is
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
from this moment in his own hand, and conduct and application, steady,
earnest and continuous, cannot fail to ensure him success.
((
We have
but to ask the Divine blessing and depend upon its vouchsafement.
'Yesterday we went to Clapham to explore a celebrated stalactite cave.
It is the property of Farrer, the Master in Chancery (who married the
widow of the late Lord Eldon secundus). We are just now moving off
to the Lakes, and it is not very likely that I shall reach home until
Saturday evening. Letters cannot be sent to me with any certainty of
finding me except directed to me to Wray as before. It is possible that
I´may return hither on Thursday night but it is more probable that it
will be Friday. Sarah has arrived and went with us yesterday. She
goes with us through the Lakes, and on Saturday will return to South-
port.
• With best love to all believe me, my dear Susan,
"Yours very affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO THE REV. W. C. MILNE.
(6
London, 19th Oct., 1848.
My dear Mr. Milne,-I congratulate you on the preservation of your
health and ability to labour, and on your attainment of the new and
sacred style and relation of father. Even those who previous to their
attainment of that condition were oppressed and melancholic have been
made perfectly happy upon its realisation. I hope that your son may
make you by his wisdom and grace, when such attributes can be mani-
fested, a glad father.
Your work is I suppose somewhat monotonous and rudimental still,
and you have emphatically to sow in hope. Here we are in no very prosper
ous case. As a body we seem rather declining, at least last Conference
we were fewer in number. We have dissatisfaction amongst ourselves
in some measure, and that may be regarded as hurtful to our progress.
The dissatisfaction is chiefly with our Mission House and partly with
some of the doings of Conference, and the proceedings of some of its
leading men. We have decreased in numbers in our Mission stations
as well as at home. I had thought to have sent Fanny some Conference
news, and if I cannot do so by this mail I will by the next, as such
news I suppose is better late than never. But what political news we
have—what distress of nations and perplexity! The trials for treason
are still going on in Ireland and convictions follow in every case. It is
not likely that O'Brien and his abettors will be executed, but that is their
sentence. Tranquillity now prevails in England and Ireland and the
Government and the law have completely triumphed. I trust that you
have quiet and security in all your missionary scenes and exertions.
May the good Lord graciously preserve you, and prosper your under-
taking! May he lift upon you the light of his countenance, and open
well and successfully your way before you! To his gracious care I
4
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
301
commend you. May he keep you from all evil, and crown you with all
good!
""
I am yours affectionately,
TO HIS WIFE.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Long Eaton, Nov. 12, 1848.
My dear Susan,-On Saturday I happily escaped a shock from an
accident which befell the train by which I had intended and arranged to
have gone that afternoon from Peterborough to Lincoln. It was an ex-
press train that started at 2.45, and I was at the counter just about to
take my ticket when a thought occurred to me to go and see the cathedral
there and go afterwards by the next train to Lincoln. I acted upon the
thought, and after seeing the cathedral I took the train at 3.45, and at
the first station after leaving Peterborough I found that we must be de-
tained there more than an hour owing to an accident which had occurred
to the express train just at that station by which its engine got off the
line, tore up the rail, and was so much injured that it could not proceed.
The passengers sustained a most violent shock, but none of them suffered
any material injury (the shock excepted). I think it very providential
that I escaped it, as my nervous system is not quite so strong as it was
and I should no doubt have been much inconvenienced by the agitation.
“As soon as the rail was repaired our train went forward in safety. I
saw at Lincoln Mrs. Moulton who particularly inquired after you. I saw
there also Mrs. and Mr. from Leeds (the name I forget). She was
at Mrs. W.'s school and they were married at Leeds somewhat romanti-
cally, as I seem to recollect.
Yesterday I opened a chapel in the Coventry circuit and dined at a
house, the lady of which is eighty-five, and was quite excited to have me
from her knowledge of my father and mother when in that circuit, and
remembering me when two or three years of age! Another woman came
to worship me almost who had nursed me at that time. Many circum-
stances were touched upon that were more than ordinarily impressive.
This week I am taking several northern places together, that I may leave
home the less frequently in behalf of them. It will be between seven and
eight on Saturday when I return home. I have received only the letter
at Lincoln. I am, dear Susan,
"Yours affectionately,
TO MR. MARRIOTT.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
London, 15th Jan., 1849.
My dear Friend,—We have received your kind and generous present
of a large hamper filled with good things: a towering cheese; a pie, of
graceful form and sweeping amplitude, surrounded by a goodly cluster of
juveniles, though of another species from their seeming parent, having
a name in which are involved many pleasing associations; flying fowl
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
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and fowl that does not fly and tongue-altogether a large and varied
and valuable assemblage of acceptable and agreeable things for the sup-
port and nourishment of the outer man, which (though it perisheth) is to
be supported and maintained in due subserviency to the mind which
dwells in it, and of which it is the instrument and the manifestation.
For all this great kindness you will be pleased to accept our sincere and
affectionate acknowledgments, our grateful and hearty thanks.
My health is not so good as formerly, and I am conscious that I am
wearing away, not rusting away, thank God. My labours have been
continuous, exhausting and sometimes sufficiently harassing. The
necessity for courage, honesty, wisdom and fidelity is quite as great now
as at any previous time. I trust that God will be favourable to our Zion
and spare it from being dishonoured by partiality or any other evil. May
Jehovah keep our Israel and hide it in the time of trouble beneath his
own almighty wings! There may you and Mrs. Marriott and my kind
friends Mr. and Mrs. Hall dwell secure, and may the God of heaven bless
and prosper you all this year! I remain, my dear Mr. Marriott,
"Yours sincerely and affectionately,
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In the spring of 1849 Dr. Beaumont had to act the part
of comforter to the bereaved family of his friend and su-
perintendent, Mr. Farrar, with which he had already been
associated at a time of affliction when both were resident
in Liverpool, and which was in that year deprived of its
head, who died somewhat unexpectedly and in the prime
of his strength. He was one for whom, it has been men-
tioned, Dr. Beaumont had an unfeigned esteem and friend-
ship; his memory will long be dear to many friends and
many of the Wesleyan people; and to his piety and usefulness
and gentle Christian deportment and sincere zeal for the high
interests of religion the Doctor offered a well-deserved and
most genuine tribute in the funeral sermon which he preached
on the occasion of his death.
The custom of preaching funeral sermons is very often car-
ried to an absurd extent, but it has much in its favour. No
doubt the departure from the world of one who has been pro-
minent in it or well known amongst those to whom such an
address may be made affords a fit occasion for calling attention
in a more specific and urgent manner than usual to the vanity
of mortal life and the solemnity of that great change which
all must undergo. The life of such a man may, within cer-
tain limits, be appropriately made the subject of reflection in
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
303
such a form as this; and where that life has been distin-
guished for virtue (in the large and natural sense of that
term) a graceful homage may well be paid in this manner to
such distinction. It is a custom which in one form or another
has obtained the sanction of all nations, but it is one which
demands in its adoption the utmost delicacy and discretion;
and the history of Greek oratory shows how easily it degener-
ates by injudicious use to vulgar and fulsome panegyric, which
necessarily corrupts and debases the highest eloquence of the
orator and the morals and taste of his hearers. Apart from
his influence and power as a preacher and the cordial kindli-
ness of his nature, Dr. Beaumont's refinement and his excel-
lent judgment and accurate appreciation of character fitted
him particularly for preaching sermons of this nature, and on
his part he had a melancholy satisfaction in offering such a last
tribute (to use a hackneyed but expressive phrase) to the
merits of those whom he had loved or esteemed.
(C
Amongst those whom he praised when dead during this pe-
riod of his ministry was another distinguished minister, almost
the last of the venerable race which are and may be styled
"the early Methodist preachers," though they were but in-
heritors of that name from those who first acquired it—the Rev.
Richard Reece. Between him and Dr. Beaumont there had
subsisted a long friendship, though to Mr. Reece the Doctor
was in years little more than a boy. The latter had the highest
respect for the upright, manly and Christian virtues of his
aged friend who fully appreciated the many high qualities
of Dr. Beaumont, with whom he was connected as a supernu-
merary" preacher in the Queen Street and Hinde Street
circuits from 1845 until his decease. Full of zeal to his last
days, Mr. Reece was always during this period most ready to
undertake any part of the Doctor's own work to which he was
himself unable to attend when away on his extraordinary
labours; and indeed, until the vigour of that eminent man
at last gave way his younger colleague and superintendent
was accustomed to rely on him as his most trustworthy and
unfailing aid. It was a remarkable testimony which one of
such extended labours, and one moreover who was himself a sen-
sitive man and of a justly independent and tenacious disposi-
tion, bore to Dr. Beaumont's official conduct in saying, as Mr.
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Reece said, that he would never desire to have any other
superintendent than the Doctor, nor had he ever known any
one so kind, considerate and thoughtful towards all the parties
connected with him in his circuits.
Dr. Beaumont frequently took advantage of the decease of
persons of distinguished importance and character in the great
world as well as of those in his immediate circle, as occasions
of admonishing his congregation on the solemnity of life and
death and on the virtues which a true Christian ought to dis-
play, when they found such distinguished examples of good-
ness and devotion afforded by those whose position seemed to
render their cultivation of spiritual piety a task of peculiar diffi-
culty. During his stay in Hinde Street, he preached two very
remarkable and powerful sermons on events of this nature of
public interest, one on the occasion of the death of her late
Majesty Queen Adelaide, and the other on the decease of Sir
Robert Peel.
The following letter was written on the occasion of his re-
turn from a short visit to Norfolk. He had taken advantage
of a preaching engagement at Holt to secure a day with Mr.
Cozens-Hardy of Letheringsett, between whose family and
himself a warm friendship had subsisted for many years. This
stolen holiday was but very short and he was compelled to
depart the evening before a little rural fête at Letheringsett
Hall with which his friends have been accustomed to indulge
the children belonging to the schools at Holt. After every
means had failed to induce him to postpone his departure for
at least a single day, and when he had retired on the night
before he left, the ladies of the household resolved themselves
into a committee to devise ways and means to detain the re-
lentless guest. It was resolved that no coercive measure should
be adopted, but that a formal poetical petition should be pre-
sented to him by the ladies praying that he would not break
up the party at the house. The petition was accordingly duly
composed, indited and, the formalities of signature having been
gone through, it was as a forlorn hope taken to his room. It
is to this appeal that the letter alludes.
"London, 14th July, 1849.
'My dear Mrs. Cozens-Hardy, I beg to assure you and all the other
ladies who united in that sweet poetical effusion which 'petitioned' my
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
305
را
cóntinuance amongst you at Letheringsett Hall over Friday that I felt
myself honoured by the application that in such a delightful way was
made to me, and I can only wonder that I was not entirely captivated
thereby for the day. I had to turn a hard-hearted stone, a stoic philoso-
pher—otherwise I could not have broken away from cords so sweet and
silken. I hope that you have all forgiven me for having torn myself from
those whom I so highly regard, from a scene so gratifying and delightful,
and from an occasion so interesting as the celebration of the Sunday-
school children's festival in your own grounds and through your bounty
and Mr. Cozens-Hardy's great kindness.
"I reached my own house about half-past five, and after spending an
hour with my family I went to the Hall of Commerce and presided at a
Temperance meeting according to engagement. I told the meeting of the
formidable barricades I had had to surmount in getting to it; and, when I
read the ladies' petition with which I had been met in the morning, every
one present felt that I had been valiant indeed in the cause of the assembly.
The poetry was much admired and greatly applauded. And so please tell
the poet herself that her verse was recited to a full house and obtained
an enthusiastic welcome.
"Well-I am, I confess, somewhat sad that I was deprived of the great
pleasure that I am certain I should have experienced in being with you
yesterday. I should have been happier with you than I found myself in
the miscellaneous throng which I addressed. But 'tis past-and I can
only acknowledge the regret which I feel that I was obliged to leave you
yesterday morning. Give my affectionate regards to all the ladies who
are still with you and to my dear, kind friend Mr. Cozens-Hardy. May
he and you be kept from all evil, be blessed with all happiness. And now
to the Divine care and love and grace I commend you both, together with
your dear children. I am, my dear Mrs. Cozens-Hardy,
"Yours sincerely,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Unfortunately the evil genius of Methodism was once more
in the ascendant, and a more serious disruption than any
which had previously occurred in that society was about to
take place. In the storm and tempest of party disputes
which commenced in 1849, and which has not yet given place
to the pure and bright and placid atmosphere most favourable
to the life of a Christian church, Dr. Beaumont's happiness
and position were so seriously affected that it is impossible to
avoid entering somewhat more fully into the narrative of these
dissensions than has been done in the case of former Metho-
distic controversies which have been alluded to, though they
will not be dwelt on except so far as may be necessary to explain
events of serious moment in his history. Those therefore
X
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
!
whose interest in him is not adequate to overcome their repul-
sion to dissensions of this nature had better pass over the rest.
of his period in London, as those dissensions are unhappily so
interwoven with his life during that time that it is impossible
to separate them entirely from its history.
It is sufficiently notorious that questions of a strongly
personal character have been at the bottom of the various
disturbances which have interrupted the harmony of the
Wesleyan societies from time to time. It was thought by
many that that great community had fallen under the
domination of an aristocracy or despotism inconsistent with
its true character. No doubt this impression took a form
which was unjust to individuals and would have been more
accurately moulded had it represented those individuals
merely as the instruments of principles of ecclesiasticism
which must ever make themselves apparent in a body con-
stituted as are the Wesleyan Methodists.
The "Wesleyan Takings" had very freely expressed these
feelings and it was on that account that they gave rise to the
excitement which occurred in 1841. A few years after this
appeared certain publications (anonymous as were the “Ta-
kings") which were circulated through the post amongst the
ministers and a few laymen of the Wesleyan society under
the name of " Fly Sheets." These sheets were issued from
time to time and, taking up particular features of the Wes-
leyan economy, exposed with much vehemence and small
scruple in the use of language or of personal accusation and
inuendo evils which were very pointedly and freely alleged to
exist. It was evident that the author or authors of these bro-
chures was or were intimately acquainted with the working of
Methodism, with the proceedings of the Conference (which
always sits with closed doors), and with other circumstances
which led to the conclusion that they were to be attributed
to one or more of the members of Conference. Their effect
in the society was so great that the official men of Methodism
determined, if possible, to ascertain the offending scribes
and, as suspicion was directed with more or less reason against
certain of the preachers, it was determined that they should
be required to purge themselves from suspicion by denial of
having participated in the cause of offence.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
307.
The Rev. James Everett was a man of great and varied
abilities, a minister of much influence and a valued friend of
the Doctor's, and on him in particular rested the suspicion of
the authorship of these pamphlets. He was accordingly asked
at the Conference of 1849 to say whether he had or had not
been concerned in their publication. He absolutely and firmly
refused to answer that question, and in this refusal Dr. Beau-
mont gave him his support. So utterly removed was Dr.
Beaumont in his habit of mind from attacks of this nature
that, although he was compelled to take a very prominent
part in the events that were consequent upon the course
taken by the Conference, he never even read the "Fly Sheets'
to the day of his death.
""
وو
22
The "Watchman" newspaper has been for years the
organ" of the Wesleyan Conference (i. e. of the majority
of that assembly), and has constantly possessed facilities for
acquiring information as to their debates and decisions. Of
course the Wesleyan Reformers must also have their " organ
(an office which was held by the "Wesleyan Times") and,
inasmuch as these Reformers and their principles were in a
very decided minority in the Conference, the latter paper met
with no such favours as the "Watchman" could command.
Besides Mr. Everett, however, two other ministers (the
Revs. S. Dunn and W. Griffith junior), men of eminence in the
society, were noted as being imbued with principles adverse to
the government, if that term may be used, of Methodism, and
they occasionally furnished the "Wesleyan Times" with
sketches of the proceedings of the Conference which of course
had a different tone and colour altogether from those which the
"Watchman” contained. Mr. Dunn had further compromised
himself by editing a religious periodical under the name of the
"Wesley Banner," the conduct of which did not meet with the
sanction of the Conference, and these two gentlemen were also
suspected of being connected with what were called the " un-
constitutional" proceedings of expressing opinions adverse to
those of that assembly, and were accordingly called upon to
give certain pledges as to their future conduct and, especially,
a promise not to continue their connection with the "Wesleyan
Times" or the "Wesley Banner." This pledge they alike
.
p
308
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
་
refused to give. The Conference of 1849 was in no mood to
be trifled with and, as these gentlemen persisted in the course
which they considered their independence and self-respect
demanded, they were all deliberately expelled from the Me-
thodist society. This course Dr. Beaumont most earnestly
deprecated and opposed, prophesying that the consequences
would be found commensurate with the moral importance of
such a measure.* And he was not mistaken, for whatever
may be thought of the measure of expulsion itself, its conse-
quences have threatened the very existence of Methodism
and have involved the disruption to a greater or less extent
of almost every society constituting the community from one
end of the land to the other.
The "people" were startled at the length to which the Con-
ference had carried matters, and many of them considered
not only that the three expelled ministers were entitled to
their sympathy but that their own liberties, within the scope
of their religious lives, were exposed to the blow under which
those gentlemen had fallen from their ministerial status. This
feeling rapidly extended and, almost before the ministers had
returned to their circuits, the whole community was in ex-
citement on the subject. Public meetings were everywhere
held, involving of course all the heat and exaggeration of
feeling which necessarily accompany such demonstrations.
The excitement spread beyond the Wesleyan society, and the
country at large for some time took a considerable interest in
* Dr. Beaumont's course on this occasion was illustrative of his cha-
racter. It has been said that he made the most zealous efforts to protect
the three fated ministers from the sentence which was pronounced on
them, a course which both his friendship and his sense of right impelled
him to take. But, when the question of expulsion was put, he did not
vote on either side, because it was perfectly plain that his vote would
have no effect and because, after having protested against that course
and done his best to prevent it, he thought it kinder to the Conference,
seeing the very critical consequences which it would entail, to let their
vote appear absolutely unanimous. This course did not however, as
might be expected, approve itself to his judgment on reflection, and he
repeatedly regretted that he had adopted it, and in future cases of the
same kind he never abstained from voting against the rest of the assembly
on any such ground.
1
f
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
309
•
the struggle and expressed its opinion pretty freely as to its
merits.
The members of the Conference carried out in their cir-
cuits most effectively the system which in their collective ca-
pacity they had inaugurated in the cases of Messrs. Everett,
Dunn and Griffith. Of course the Wesleyan economy pro-
vides for the cases and modes in which "disciplinary mea-
sures" are to be adopted. These have been ascertained and
defined by usage, by rule and by a sort of treaty which has on
former occasions of internal dissension been come to between
the clergy and the laity; and, although in most cases the
ministers are able (by special means which are provided for,
and which are of a nature only to be applied in extreme and
rare cases), to exercise this authority, the power of exclusion
from the church is vested in certain well-defined church
courts, in which the preachers of the circuits preside. Most
of the preachers adopted the view that all who took part in
"Reform meetings," which were now so common, and espe-
cially those who attempted to "stop the supplies," placed
themselves thereby hors du loi. The Methodist courts, after
a few expulsions had occurred in the circuits, were so univer-
sally infected by a feeling of sympathy with the Reformers as
to render it difficult to secure a conviction of any of the
offences arising out of this agitation, consequently the
preachers generally adopted the simple plan of excluding all
persons who brought themselves under their ecclesiastical
censure either without trial, or after trial if that resulted in
acquittal. This they claimed the right to do on the ground
of "inherent pastoral authority" but, inasmuch as their flocks
did not admit that authority, of course this plan only further
exacerbated the condition of affairs; and in the result many
thousand members of the Wesleyan societies were in the first
years of this agitation excluded from the church. These
either retired altogether from the religious world or they took
refuge in some other church, or they formed themselves into.
Wesleyan reformed churches, though in many cases they con-
tinued for long to claim to be considered as members of their
old society-a claim however which they were unable practi-
cally to enforce against the clergy. When the ministers of
any circuit had scruples about thus "wresting the law to
310
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
their authority" the superior members of the hierarchy
brought such various influences to bear upon them that ere
many. months were over the only circuits which remained in-
tact were some in which the spirit of reform met with no
sympathy, save indeed Dr. Beaumont's circuit of Hinde
Street, than which none was more strongly agitated by the
events which were transpiring but which did not suffer any of
these fatal consequences until he was, some time afterwards,
forced to abandon his own judgment to the mandate of à su-
perior ecclesiastical power.
It will be rightly conjectured that he would have no-
thing to do with these expulsions. It has already been
said that he knew nothing of any "inherent pastoral au-
thority" to scatter the church, and it was rather with the
utmost reluctance that he undertook the administration even
of the regular discipline of the society, though this he did,
however painful in the doing, with the utmost faithfulness
and at the same time with the utmost forbearance. Some of
his colleagues however desired to adopt the means which was
so convenient and seemed to them so usefully employed in
other circuits, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he
was able to follow out the dictates of his own conscience. In
doing this he was much embarrassed by the inconsiderate
extremes to which many of the active members of the circuit
proceeded in agitating for "Reform;" their course being as
inconsistent with the order and the decorum of a Christian
church as it was injurious to their cause and disheartening to
their friends. He endeavoured to restrain these indiscretions
and continually exerted his influence to keep the eager and
zealous Reformer from actions which must do injury to the
Methodism which was common and dear to both parties. In
this he met with much success, for his influence with indi-
viduals was very great, but under any circumstances he could
not be brought to pursue any other than the legitimate and
prescribed course of action and, when this involved penalties
on any of his people, he only adopted it as a last resort and
with the utmost regret. He had an unfeigned horror of the
work of destruction in the church, a horror which he often
expressed at this time thus: "It is a very easy thing to pull
down the work of a hundred years and hundreds of devoted
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
311
hearts and hands-you may do it almost with a breath. But
you can never build it up again, perhaps it never can be re-
stored by others, and I would not have the responsibility of
exterminating God's people for worlds!"
This sketch of the opening phase of Wesleyan affairs after
the Conference of 1849 will suffice to explain some of the
following letters which refer to these matters.
(6
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
66
Manchester, 4th August, 1849.
My dear Sarah,-I have received your communication this morning
and I can reply for a moment only. I am writing in Conference for a
moment or two before we break up for this week. Conference is now in
its storms and tempests. I trust that the good providence of God will
protect it from rash and dangerous courses. Mr. Burdsall and Mr.
Everett are here, and Mr. Bromley is expected, and something severe
may be attempted. The matter is put to the hands of a committee for
the present.
((
'Again I have to say that nothing in 'stations' will be done for some
days to come-i.e. two or three; and I cannot say anything as to what
may be the issue as to Hinde Street. I am endeavouring to possess my-
self calmly and patiently amidst the stir around me, and I have no fear
of anything concerning myself at all serious.
I am going this afternoon to Mr. Brogden's country house, a few
miles from Manchester, as they have expressed a great wish that I should
visit them, and as I have got off going to Preston to-morrow in order
that I may be not out of Manchester to-day or to-morrow, and that I may
preach to-morrow night at Dr. Halley's as I purpose.
"I hope that you will keep your minds comfortable and in hope. All
things will be ordered well. I trust for our happiness and welfare to be
secured in the order of the good providence of God.
"I had a letter from your mother, and I wrote to her the other day. I
suppose she has not returned. With love to Joseph and Susan, I am
"Your affectionate father,
TO HIS WIFE.
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
66
Manchester, 9th August, 1849.
My dear Susan,-The appointment now for Hinde Street is, Beau-
mont, Strachan, Clegg and Arthur. And though of course, as long as
Conference continues, changes may take place, yet the appointment as
above is most likely to stand unless the circuit shall resist altogether the
appointment of a fourth preacher. Conference has not yet decided the
cases of the other preachers against whom suspicion has been indulged-
Bromley, Dunn, Griffith and George. And whatever the result may be,
it will have the effect of preventing the appointment of Mr. Dunn to
Hinde Street.
}
1
|
312
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
"Last night I preached at Preston to an immense congregation. It is
quite uncertain when Conference will close-the time will be protracted.
"I have had large offers of money to build me a chapel and support
me, if my conscience should compel me to leave the Conference. I do
not however expect that the kindness of my numerous friends in London
and here in the north will be called for in this way on my account. I
hope better things. I do my utmost to obtain what I conceive to be just
and honourable and most fitting, and I trust in God, and there I must
leave it.
"I have had a letter this morning from Mr. Carter (at Burlington)
asking that Mary may remain longer at Nottingham. I am very willing
for her to continue there until next week. I am not able yet fully to fix
my course or hers, but as soon as I am able I will let you know.
Keep yourselves all perfectly easy about myself, my position will not
be changed.
“With love to all, I am
"Yours affectionately,
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
Keswick, 5th Sept., 1849.
My dear Sarah,—We are highly favoured by weather. On Saturday at
four I arrived at Kendal, and M. arrived from Wray the same evening about
eight. On Monday morning we left Kendal in a phaeton about ten o'clock,
came to Ambleside, dined there, and sauntered about amidst its choice
beauties of scenery. The place was filled with people come from Carlisle
by a cheap trip train. We left it about four, and Mr. Parker intended to
push on to Keswick, but as we neared Wyburn, Mary manifested so much
desire to go up Helvellyn that, though neither Mr. Parker nor myself
particularly wished it, we stopped at Wyburn (Nag's Head') on Monday
night and yesterday morning mounted to the top of Helvellyn. The day
was very fine but in coming down we felt the heat most oppressive. The
air was clear and we had the full amount of enjoyment from the astounding
prospect which is varied, bold, grand and indeed unique. We took provi
sions up with us, left the 'Nag's Head' at nine, and reached it again at half-
past three. Soon after four we started for this place, reached it at half-past
five, but found it so full that we could not obtain accommodation at any
inn; so we let the principal hotel-keeper provide us lodgings close to his
house and he supplied us with our viands. All this being arranged, we
stretched up into Borrowdale as last year, came back by the other side of
Derwentwater, and arrived here about eight. We then had a meal, com-
bining dinner, tea and supper, and Mary and Mr. Parker went to see the
Lake by moonlight and I read.
"We engaged ponies last night and are now about to mount them
and go up to Skiddaw. Lord Langdale's party have also ponies engaged
for this morning, and the company is great and numerous. The weather
is perfect, and there is every prospect of its continuance. But notice has
1
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
313
just been given that the guide is ready, and I must close. It will be
Saturday evening before I can reach home. Love to all. I am
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The excursion which the foregoing letter refers to was made
with one of his daughters and a friend, and was a repetition of
one which with another of his daughters and a party of friends
he had made in the autumn of the preceding year. His
general information and his flow of humour were always par-
ticularly observable upon such occasions, and guides and
coachmen and notabilities in places of general resort which
he had visited seldom forgot Dr. Beaumont. A remark of the
genius loci at the well-known Clapham cave on the Doctor had
on the occasion of the excursion of the preceding year caused
the party some amusement. He was a worthy and shrewd
Lancashire man who was immensely delighted with his clerical
visitor, so much struck with him, indeed, that he took the
pains to inquire who he was. On being told by one of the
visitors that he was Dr. Beaumont, a distinguished Methodist
preacher, he was somewhat incredulous, as his idea of that
class had been formed on a different model, and he exclaimed
Naw, naw-never naw Methody parson was so clever as that
gen'leman." The simple guide did not fail to welcome the
Methody parson on his second visit with a pleasant recog-
nition which the latter as pleasantly acknowledged.
TO HIS DAUGHTER MRS. MILNE.
My dear Fanny,-This is Sunday night, eleven o'clock, Sept. 23rd.,
and I gladly write you a few lines. I am well in the midst of much
labour. I am not sure whether you have had the papers sent to you con-
taining connectional and Conference matters. We are in a pretty mess
with Conference doings. The newspapers must be sent to you con-
taining particulars as they are too lengthy for a letter. Mr. Milne will
no doubt have seen something of it.
It is the old quarrel
about the Fly-sheets,' and it has ended (so far) in the expulsion by the
Conference of Everett, Dunn and Griffith. The whole country is taking
the matter up and I fear crying loudly against the Conference. Too
strong a dose of clerical assumption and legislation is always despotic
and mischievous if not something worse. On Friday I opened a (Free)
Scotch Church in Birmingham (W. M'Kenzie is its minister), and since
Conference, on my way from the lakes, I have been at Liverpool and
preached on a Friday night in Brunswick to a full chapel.
314
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
I have been very happy to learn that you are better than you have been.
I hope and trust and pray that you may be preserved, and that all happi-
ness and prosperity may attend you and Mr. Milne. I was in Scotland
in the summer, in Edinburgh, and I attended the Free Church Assembly
as well as the other. B. met me in the former and, after hearing the
moderator open the sitting by prayer and, having listened awhile to some
proceedings, he turned to me and said 'Why these fellows neither know
how to speak to God nor man!' There's for you! Give my love to Mr.
Milne, and believe me to remain, my dear Fanny,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The winter of 1849 passed over without any amelioration
but rather with considerable aggravation of the unfortunate
condition of Wesleyan affairs. On every side were heard angry
recriminations and violent accusations very freely expressed,
and each party seemed to vie with the other in doing all that
it could to irritate and annoy its opponents. From both of
these Dr. Beaumont stood entirely aloof. He could not con-
sent to ignore the virtues and Christian character of his people
because of the intemperate manner in which they sometimes
expressed their deep feelings on the matters in contest, nor
was he at all the man to abandon the responsibilities and claims
of his office, to yield to any vulgar clamour or to admit the in-
fallibility of the popular voice. But he pursued the even
tenour of his way, constantly endeavouring to subdue the undue
warmth of party spirit on both sides, constantly defending the
rights and privileges of the laity as well as of the pastors, and
constantly striving to keep his people in righteousness and
holiness of life and above all things to maintain their ranks
unbroken amidst the turmoil of "religious hostility."
He was urged by his colleagues and the clerical authori-
ties of his "district" (which is, as has been mentioned, an
aggregation of circuits) to adopt punitive measures towards
his people; but, as for a considerable time he found that all
those in the Hinde Street circuit who were active reformers
were perfectly amenable to the really pastoral discipline of ex-
hortation and gentle influences, he would not consent to en-
tertain such propositions. Nor could he admit that to differ
from the measures of the Conference, to express strictures
upon those measures and to argue for the necessity of altera-
tions in the conduct of Wesleyan affairs was a sin deserving
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
315
excommunication or even censure, provided the limits of
moderation and good feeling were not transgressed in such
attempts at "reformation." He did not find such dogmas in
the Scripture, nor as he conceived in any Wesleyan code, nor
in the practices of any other church, ancient or modern, except
in certain special cases which obtained universal condemnation.
But, if he could not discover a capital Christian offence
in such conduct, much less could he consent in the hope of
repressing it to strike out with a strong arm all the forms and
principles of Wesleyan government and to make use of the
formality of renewing "tickets of membership" as a means
of superseding the established modes of Wesleyan discipline—
for such was the modern and almost universally adopted
pastoral discipline of the preachers. The consequence was
that he led during the rest of his sojourn at Hinde Street a
life of constant turmoil. As he was not able to communicate
to all concerned in the circuit his own views, attempts were
made not only to force him to separate the remonstrant section
of the society from the acquiescent party, but ultimately mea-
sures of this nature were resorted to directly by others. Still
the excitement increased, and the more the Reformers imagined
themselves to be injured, the more inconsiderate they became
towards their superintendent, demanding of him not only free-
dom from control to the last extent, but that he should ab-
solutely support all their views and conduct. Such a demand
was of course entirely disregarded by him and it would be
difficult to say whether Dr. Beaumont was during the early
period of the Wesleyan Reform movement attacked by the one
party or the other in more unmeasured terms, accused as he
was by the clergy and their supporters of sanctioning irregular
and unchristian attacks upon the constitution of the church
and by their opponents of truckling to the authority of the
Conference, and abandoning his principles for the sake of his
position.
Paradoxical as it may appear, his popularity and influence
were not in the least impaired during this period, but were
rather greatly increased, both within and beyond the sphere
of Methodism; but not the less freely did both parties, in the
hope it must be presumed of compelling him to abandon his
independent position and to place the whole of the weight of his
316
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
།
name in their scale, accuse him, and sometimes in the bitterest
terms, of unworthy conduct. His principal difficulty was to
maintain his ground against the strenuous Conferential efforts
which were directed against it, and so far as this went he was
belauded and supported by the "Reformers;" but whenever
(as repeatedly occurred) his steadfast course crossed the views
of that party, they straightway threatened him with the with-
drawal of their support and warned him that the consequence
would be that he would find himself so helpless that he would
be thrust out from the society without sympathy from any
quarter. In the midst of the ordinary current of affairs arose
certain events which had a specific importance in Dr. Beau-
mont's life, because they led to distinct measures being taken
against him which are of too great moment to be overlooked.
Not only was he required by the dominant party in Wes-
leyan politics to adapt his views and general ministerial conduct
according to their expressed will, but he was in particular
from time to time required to adopt, and blamed for not
adopting or for pursuing in the way which seemed to him
fittest, particular measures of a disciplinary nature. For in-
stance, certain members of the Hinde Street society were
active in propagating the opinions of the Reformers, and with
this object attended and spoke at various public meetings
throughout the country. It would be absurd to say that
much did not transpire at such meetings which a well-balanced
judgment, perfect information or more temperate feelings
would have modified; but Dr. Beaumont troubled himself
very little about the details of such movements, conceiving that
it was easy to give to such details a magnified importance which
did not properly belong to them, and that they could not fail
to be very injurious to every party if thus exaggerated.
He heard much more of the gossip of the agitation than he
cared to hear, but his mind was like a sieve to such matters-
they passed away by virtue of their own want of cohesion,
and he certainly never thought of assuming the half of what
he heard for fact or testing whether it were fact or no. He
knew human nature too well, indeed, to suppose that such
movements could be carried on without concomitant evil or
not to know that to restrain them too rigidly would only
cause wider convulsion and greater disaster.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
317
Communications were constantly addressed to him from
preachers in other circuits of a most embarrassing nature,
informing him of Mr. So and So having on some occasion
said certain words or done certain acts in connection with
the ecclesiastical struggle which was going on, which his in-
formants deemed were in violation of Wesleyan or Christian
rule, and requesting that he would proceed against such
parties for their misconduct. To such applications he always
replied that he could take no such action, that if any person
had a complaint to make against any of his people which was
cognisable in a church court, let them make such charge, and
he as superintending preacher would take care that it was
regularly heard and determined, but that to take upon him
first to credit all the rumours and allegations which might
be made against any of his people with reference to these
disputes and then, after having convinced himself of the
culpability or innocence of the accused, to prosecute them
and finally to judge them was to call on him to undertake
offices inconsistent with one another, inconsistent with his
position and inconsistent, as he conceived, with Christian
charity. His views on this subject by no means arose from
any fantastical notions of theorizing about governmental
action, for he had not at this very time any hesitation in
adopting authorised measures of discipline in cases which
came under his own notice. In such cases the duty of
complaining seemed to fall upon him, but it seemed to him a
strange thing that the pastor of a Christian people should be
made the instrument of all sorts of accusations against
them, and that although he might in his heart disbelieve their
truth, or might not conceive that they imported any weighty
ground of offence.
In the case of Mr. G., a leading member of the Hinde
Street society, his colleagues entertained a strong conviction
that that gentleman had offended so gravely in his conduct
relative to the existing agitation that strong measures ought
to be taken to bring him to punishment. Dr. Beaumont
entirely discredited some of the facts on which this conclusion
was based, and did not agree with the estimate which his
brother ministers had formed of the seriousness of the case.
After much pressure had been brought to bear upon him,
318
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
instead of any direct charge being submitted to him by any
of the many accusers, the superior ecclesiastical court com-
posed entirely of preachers and called the "District Meeting"
examined into the case and, on the representations of his
colleagues, directed him to proceed against Mr. G., with
the object, as afterwards appeared officially, of effecting the
expulsion of that gentleman. This step Dr. Beaumont greatly
deprecated (though the course which Mr. G. adopted was such
as he conceived called for administration of discipline in a minor
degree), as he believed it to be calculated to ruin the prosperity
of the circuit. But he was not the man to disregard any autho-
rised proceedings, and he felt it to be his duty to obey implicitly
the directions of the District Meeting, acting in so doing as
their agent and not proprio motu. It so happened that the
words of the resolution of the District Meeting only directed
him to bring Mr. G. to trial, and, as his colleagues had made
grave charges against the offender and had themselves sought
for this intervention of the District Meeting, he presumed, as
a matter of course, that it was on their charges that Mr.
G. was to be arraigned, not conceiving it to be intended
that he was himself to act as the accuser of offences which
he did not believe were properly chargeable against the
accused. He accordingly brought Mr. G. to trial in the
regular mode, but when he found that none of his col-
leagues would support the charges he, sitting as chairman
of the "Leaders' Meeting" assembled for the occasion,
declared that, as no charges were sustained against that gen-
tleman, there was no occasion to determine the question of
his guilt or innocence, a conclusion which seemed inevitable
enough. For this most natural and regular course he was
himself arraigned at the ensuing Conference and was adjudged
to deserve the censure of the assembly, notwithstanding that
he had most honestly and most unhesitatingly, though most
unwillingly, fulfilled the direction of the District Meeting,
from the propriety of which he entirely differed, and beyond
which therefore there was no pretence of any obligation for
him to proceed.
The following extracts from a very imperfect report of Dr.
Beaumont's speech, addressed to the Conference of 1850, on
the occasion of a resolution to this effect being proposed, will
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
319
point out the view which he took of his pastoral duty, espe-
cially in this case, and of the measures which were generally
pursued by the preachers and which he was required to
adopt. That his defence should have been utterly ineffectual
followed naturally from the fact that these measures were
thus generally pursued and that the course which he took
was taken by him almost if not absolutely alone. After
pointing out how unfortunate had been the conclusions of
the District Meeting, but how completely he had nevertheless
fulfilled the directions which he was charged with having
frustrated, he said :—
“In all cases except those of immorality, I contend that many steps
should be taken before expulsion; repeated remonstrance, censure and
suspension. We should rebuke, reprove, exhort, endure and entreat with
all long-suffering and Christian patience and forbearance. Have you
all done so? . . . . I maintain and assert here that both as a mi-
nister of Christ and as a Methodist preacher, I have done my duty.' He
then showed that he formed his judgment on the word of God, in the
first place, and then on the 'Minutes of Conference,' and according to
that judgment so formed he had acted. If the Conference should con-
sider that to act so was a failure of duty he should regret it; but he could
not but think, even then, that it was the performance of duty. That he
had weakened the hands of his colleagues he indignantly and forcibly
refuted. Whatever was done he hoped would be done to him alone.
He hoped that Mr. Strachan would not be considered as having done any-
thing worthy of censure in giving up his office of accuser. 'Whatever
may be your pleasure, I am prepared for it, whatever you do, do it to me
alone! I can bear your displeasure by the help of a good conscience in
its unbroken weight.
"On the whole-and what a whole it is!-you say that you will cen-
sure this conscientious conduct of mine.'
"Mr.
'That it merits censure.'
"Dr. Beaumont: Ah! that indeed is worse.
If you had proceeded
to censure me, I might have borne it; I might have attributed it to obfus-
cation of intellect, to mental vacillation, to constitutional timidity, to
unaccountable impulse; but how am I to bear the desert of censure?
On what grounds can you allege that I merit it? I have shown you
that in the matter of Mr. G. I have acted earnestly, sincerely, honestly,
constitutionally upon the directions of the District Meeting. And have
I neglected my circuit? Have I caused there desolation, devastation,
ruin, woe? Have I torn up and destroyed the tree of righteousness?
Have I desolated the vineyard of the Lord? Have I scattered His
sheep? What have I done? Look at the state of my circuit! I
maintain that no circuit is so prosperous, although in no circuit is there a
more extensive, vigorous intellectual action on important debateable points
320
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
",
than there is in it. With every sort of drawback I yet have for the last
quarter an increase of eleven members. Do you call that ruin and woe?
Some say, yes-I say, no! As to the sinews of war (the products of
peace) we have also great cause for congratulation. In that quarter our·
Kingswood collections produced £47; our chapel fund collections £47, 4s. ;
our July collections £37, 2s.; our yearly collections £56; our Theo-
logical Institution subscriptions £22, 16s., and our superannuated
preachers' subscriptions £86, 1s. Is that what you call ruin? We have
opened since the last Conference one new chapel, and a very important
one is now progressing. Is that desolation?
"What have I done? I have gone for you all over the land, by winter
and summer, night and morning, early and late; often exhausted, some-
times with a feeble heart, have I travelled and preached and spoken for
you; for your chapels, your missions, your schools! And am I for this
to be censured? Do I for this merit censure? I might, it seems, have
obtained your vote of thanks for separation, division, expulsion, strife;
and am I to be censured, having converted sinners, kept together the
church, fed the sheep of our Lord Jesus Christ, established the weak, ex-
horted and censured the unruly, and brought back the erring! I am
told I have discouraged others in their course? Who are these? Are
they my exemplars-in labours more abundant, more unceasing, more
sincere?
"If all the superintendents in this connection had acted as I have
done and do, what would be now the state of the connection? I think
better than it is. Mr. D. indeed has said that I must have been con-
vinced of the charge of Mr. G.'s having acted improperly in Exeter Hall.
Of course I was, but am I to cut a man off from Christ's holy church
because he proposes an amendment at a public meeting? God forbid!
Dr. D. has made some remarks about grace and mercy. I cannot appeal
to you for mercy. I do not appeal to you either for mercy or grace. I
ask for justice and justice only. I claim my rights. Sensible indeed I
am of having many shortcomings before my God; but sure I am also of
having so done my duty to the church that I do not deserve any censure
at your hands. I ask for justice and justice alone. "But with me it is a
very small thing that I should be judged of you or of man's judgment,-
he that judgeth me is the Lord."
TO HIS DAUGHTER MRS. MILNE.
"17, Beaumont Street, London, 19th Dec., 1850.
My dear Fanny,-I seldom find time to write to you, though if I
thought you were forgotten by others I should seize time for the purpose,
but domestic and personal affairs I dare say you will have transmitted to
you by them. I am just now and for some months to come must be in
circumstances anything but pleasant. We have immense dissatisfaction
in our societies throughout this circuit.
"I am bent on keeping rather than dispersing the flock. The dissatis-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
321
faction is with the Conference, especially with some of its proceedings
for the last two or three years. The Reformers have adopted the des-
perate measure of' stopping the supplies'-not a wise one, nor successful
except in embarrassing particular circuits in which it is adopted to a
large extent, for generally the people cannot bear so severe an applica-
tion. What the issue of things will be as to the connection generally I can-
not say. Separation in one form or other, chiefly by expulsion, is going
on rather extensively and most disastrously. Many in this circuit stop
the supplies, and I am goaded to the exercise of what is called discipline—
but hitherto I have refrained. As to myself I sometimes think that I
shall hardly be able to hold on in my connection with the Conference.
But after having been so long in union with it I am most reluctant to
entertain the thought of leaving or being in any way divorced from it,
though certainly, to any one with independence or liberality of sentiment
and feeling, it is becoming a very irksome affair to remain in the position
in which I find myself. . . At present I shall wait and look for
indications of what a sense of honour and a desire for usefulness may de-
mand and then I trust to have grace and fortitude to proceed accord-
ingly. I certainly should shrink from having to lead a large body a way
they have never gone before, but when duty calls, we must obey. At
present the light is neither clear nor dark, neither day nor night-how-
ever, ' at evening time it shall be light.'
"I have received an invitation to Hull, but I have not felt free to
accept it. Indeed I do not like just yet to wear the chain of an engage
ment to any circuit, though Hull would suit me very well in many
respects.
"I have much satisfaction in Tom's progress at school. And John
you will be told is about to go to his uncle's-this profession I do not like
for him, but he prefers it so decidedly that I do not feel quite at liberty
to thwart him. I am much delighted to find that you and Mr. Milne are
now so well-may God keep you so and bless you!
'I am your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The year 1850-1851 was even more trying than the pre-
ceding one. Both Wesleyan parties were more exasperated,
there was less prospect of a reunion of the conflicting ele-
ments and, with regard to Dr. Beaumont, his position was
more difficult and delicate than ever. The pressure to which
he was subjected on both sides was more urgent than previ-
ously, the consequences to himself seemed imminent and seri-
ous and (which was of far more importance in his view) the
consequences to his beloved Methodism were far more threat-
ening than they had been. There was in his own case so
Y
322
LÍFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
F
J
much prospect of an attempt being made to remove him from
his connection with the Conference that he was forced to
entertain very seriously the idea of retiring from it. It was
not however this that grieved him most-the expulsion of the
people touched his heart far more acutely. Grievous as would
have been his own separation from the society in which he had
been born and to which he had devoted the flower of his days
and the fulness of his powers, it was far more painful to see the
Wesleyan people dispersed and severed by internal dissension
and by the hands of their own ministers. The Conference was
not so forgetful of its duties and of his claims and character
as to touch him otherwise than by the vote of censure which
has been mentioned and another vote of similar import which
will be seen to have been passed by the Conference of 1851;
but the members of that assembly unfortunately did not think
it necessary to restrain themselves in the exercise of the newly
introduced power of absolute and wholesale expulsion.
It must not be supposed that because Dr. Beaumont was
too steadfast to swerve in his conduct under any of the im-
pulses directed against him, he was insensitive to his position.
On the contrary no man could have been more acutely, con-
stantly, painfully sensitive to all the difficulties by which he
was surrounded. Over the "waste places" of the church he
mourned with a most heartfelt lamentation; and while this
sorrow and his painstaking solicitude to preserve his own cir-
cuit intact were the main causes of his depression, his own
position occasioned him serious embarrassment. The vulgar
fears of expulsion and unpopularity frightened him not it is
true, but it did pain him very much to find his single-hearted,
devoted, untiring efforts constantly and injuriously misrepre-
septed and thwarted; and it did pain him much to contem-
plate the possibility of an inevitable separation in his latter
days from that church with the principles, the practices, the
traditions and the people of which all his being was associated,
and for the welfare of which he was prepared to sacrifice much.
Writing at this period to his eldest daughter he said, “What-
ever difficulties may arise, to leave Methodism would be to mé
like tearing out my heartstrings ;" and in truth the events of
these two years so deeply affected him that the failure of his
health, which shortly afterwards followed and which resulted
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
323
in his death, was no doubt in a great degree a consequence
of the anxieties and excitement of this period. His family
saw with the deepest regret this evident immediate result, the
gradual inroads which those anxieties made upon his health,
the unaccustomed gloom which hung over him as seen in his
own household during this period. They knew the sleepless
nights and the deep sighs which these events caused him,
they saw day by day the happiest of men quite haggard with
care-but, though they deeply sympathised with him then, it
is only in the retrospect that they have been enabled to see
the fatal results which that care produced upon his being.
During this prolonged and critical period he received re-
peated offers of the most tempting description-tempting as
far as his own comfort and position and his desire for an am-
ple sphere of usefulness were concerned from various parts
of the empire to build and endow for him noble churches, but
to all such offers he turned a deaf ear. So long as Metho-
dism would not be too hard to him he could not consent
to withdraw his devotion and allegiance from it; had he
been able to contemplate such a separation as a matter of
feeling, he would not as a matter of duty have ventured of
his own accord to make so vital a revolution in his position as
it would involve. He was most studious during this trouble-
some period to avoid whatever might give offence to either of
the Wesleyan parties, for he respected even the weaknesses
of mankind and accommodated his actions to the views of
others wherever he could do so without foregoing what he felt
to be his duty. In the year 1851 a committee was formed at
Birmingham for the purpose of raising in his honour a testi-
monial, and the writer well remembers his father's anxious
consultation with him as to whether he should sanction such
a proceeding. Gratifying as such a tribute would have been
to his feelings he had reason to believe that it would be dis-
torted into a "party" movement, though commenced without
any such character or intention, and he therefore begged that
the project might be abandoned, as he could not consent to be
the instrument of infusing another element of strife into the
already vexed sphere of Wesleyan affairs. He thus expressed
his views in writing on this subject to one of the active pro-
moters of the Testimonial,—“ Having considered the proposal
+
324
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
which your goodness and your sense of that which was pub-
licly fitting prompted you to undertake, I cannot but think
that the project will injuriously affect my public usefulness—
not to say my general comfort. My public usefulness is
dearer to me than all gold and anything which would con-
tract it I should deem a misfortune."
All his labour however for the peace of Methodism, and of
his own circuit in particular, seemed to be in vain. With re-
gard to the circuit, it was entirely beyond his power to stifle
the active sentiments and controversies which were enter-
tained by its members, but so long as he was permitted to
exercise his functions as superintendent uncontrolled he was
able to keep the flock together and, though some of them
were somewhat turbulent, he trusted that a better time would
come and that true Christian harmony would again pervade
the society. But, as he steadfastly adhered to the Wesleyan
discipline and would not in a single instance allow himself
to contravene the established laws of the society because he
could not make them answer purposes which he desired to
accomplish, and as it was found impossible to carry out the
views of the preachers by means of the ordinary circuit meet-
ings and authorities, it was proposed by some connected with
the circuit and by the London preachers to nominate a special
court called a "Special District Meeting" (which had a few
years before been provided for extraordinary occasions) in order
to deal with the whole condition of the Hinde Street society,
from which hardly a single member had hitherto been removed
in any mode, though it included many who had so freely ex-
pressed their sentiments on Wesleyan matters as to be deemed
entirely unfit members of the community by those who thought
differently from Dr. Beaumont. Against this proposition he
earnestly protested. He warned those who urged it that
no possible advantage could come of it, that no increase of
peace or union would be obtained, but that on the other hand
the circuit would be ruined, devastated, destroyed if such a
court should attempt to interfere in its affairs. However,
entirely against his advice, that district meeting was held-
all his prophecies were fulfilled-the bitterest feeling was be-
gotten and a most alarming disruption occurred.
The system by which the Wesleyan preachers' duties are
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
325
'.
performed is the following. The superintendent of every
circuit furnishes each quarter a "plan," which contains the
names of the preachers-itinerant, supernumerary and local-
and of the places of worship in the circuit, and by it he appoints
the several preachers to their various pulpits throughout the
ensuing quarter. This "plan" therefore constitutes the roll of
the circuit preachers and, when any one ceases to be a preacher,
his name appears in it no longer. Now, amongst the local
preachers in Hinde Street there were some who took an active
part in the reform agitation, and one of the requirements of
the special district meeting was that these preachers should
promise to give up all such proceedings or should cease to hold
their offices; and, as it appears, a direction was given that in
the latter case Dr. Beaumont should issue a new plan, leaving
out their names. When these preachers refused, as they did,
to give the required pledge it was in the middle of a quarter,
and Dr. Beaumont, in issuing the new plan, added to the or-
dinary heading these words-" issued in pursuance of an order
of the special district meeting." For this there were two
sufficient reasons-the one, that it was proper, if not necessary,
as a matter of form to account for a quarterly plan being
issued in the middle of the quarter; the other, that Dr. Beau-
mont utterly protested against the course of the special meet-
ing and, though he acted without hesitation on their responsi-
bility, it was proper that the responsibility should lie with
them and them only. It will be seen that this natural course
was made the subject of further proceedings against him at
the ensuing ordinary district meeting and at the Conference.
In the mean time he pursued his constant labours and,
amongst other special engagements of 1851, he preached
several sermons in Exeter Hall, in the course of a series of
services instituted on the occasion of the Great Exhibition
by some gentlemen who were deeply interested in religion,
in order to afford some additional opportunities of religious
worship to the multitudes assembled from the provinces. The
extreme eagerness which was manifested on the occasions of
Dr. Beaumont's preaching these sermons was a pleasing ac-
knowledgment of his influence throughout the country. All
the avenues leading to the hall were densely packed, to over-
flowing, long before the time appointed for the commencement
326
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
of the services; and the sermons which he preached on these
occasions were worthy of the multitudes gathered to listen to
them.
ལྟ
Nor was the brilliant London season of 1851 without its
pleasures for him. Depressed, or rather anxious as he was
during the whole of that year, he much enjoyed the domestic
and friendly gatherings which the attractions of "The Exhi-
bition" effected. He always well fulfilled indeed the apostolic
precept to be "given to hospitality," and nothing pleased him
more than to welcome his many friends under his own roof.
Although a large proportion of those friends knew well the
difficulties by which he was surrounded, he would not allow
these to be apparent in social intercourse, and it was curious
to note how he dismissed his troubles in the presence of others
than his own family. If they alluded to his difficulties and
trials he frequently replied "Oh, never mind me, I'll do well
enough-only you must look after the ship."
In consequence of the position of Wesleyan affairs he had
not thought it well to make any engagement for the ensuing
year, but he was by the Conference appointed to Bristol (the
North circuit), a very agreeable location save that there Me-
thodism had suffered more than in almost any other place
from the disputes which had been rending the society. The
following letter to his eldest daughter alludes to the condition
of affairs early in 1851.
"17 Beaumont Street, London, 15th February, 1851.
'My dear Fanny,—I was glad to receive your long kind letter last
month. But I was much concerned to learn that Mr. Milne had not been
well.
We are all happy to find that your own health is
upon the whole improving and that my dear grandchildren are thriving.
All family and personal news you will receive from others. We Metho-
dists are in a sad mess-the cry for reform waxes loud, but, as usual, all
that seek it are not very discreet or moderate, and it is to be feared that
little immediate good will result from the strife. The reformers are so
indignant that they break through conventional rules, and are forthwith
expelled. A sort of Lynch law has sprung into use, and the war may
literally be said to be to the knife of excision. For my own part I am in
a scene sufficiently perplexing and difficult. I could weather the storm
and save the ship, I doubt not, but there are those who are bent on adopt-
ing the measures of the 'ruling party,' and my resistance of their purpose
and desire is producing unpleasant and it may be serious consequences.
*
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
327
1-
*
"In many places separations to a large extent are taking place. But
they are bit-by-bit separations, protrusions, exfoliations and violences not
happy in their occurrence and not promising the best conditions of new
and future growth. It is difficult yet to say what will be the general re-
sult. The 'Conference party' indicate no yielding to the public voice and
if the surges of agitation continue to roll a few months longer, much
more will be washed off and disintegrated and removed from oneness with
the connection, and the surfaces of separation will be many and sore, and
the separated portions will be lying in 'most admired disorder,' over the
whole face of England. Then comes Conference, and unless great wis-
dom and meekness prevail nothing will be conceded, and many more will
leave, and some kind of association may be formed out of the débris, and
if not there will be no doubt a number of free Wesleyan Independent
Churches. A great many are weary of Connectionalism,' finding its
evils to be so serious when they develope themselves. As to myself, I wait,
and would still wait, hoping to see the salvation.of God come unto our
Zion, but matters may wax worse and worse and become unendurable.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'
Parliament
has just opened, and we are all in the midst of a busy controversy as to
the Papal aggression which has just taken place, and which has somewhat
frightened the isle from its propriety, but I will tell Sarah to send you.
the daily papers and you will be interested much with the discussions
which they contain.
“There is nothing of a general nature to which I need further refer.
I trust that yourself and Mr. Milne will be preserved in health and be
blessed with happiness and prosperity in the great enterprise in which
you are engaged. Give my love to him and my affectionate blessing to
your dear children, whom may God bless. I am, my dear Fanny,
Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Writing to his wife he said with reference to the proceed-
ings in the Conference of 1851, upon the resolution which the
London District Meeting had come to respecting the Hinde
Street affairs :- "We have had up the Hinde Street business
and, as I confidently expected, the minutes of the London
District Meeting have been confirmed in my case.
And so I
am 'degraded!' What next I cannot now say, but do not
let it annoy yourself. I cannot give you particulars now, but
you shall have them bye and bye-I have not time to go into
details as the affair is only just over."
The resolutions of the London District Meeting which the
Conference confirmed were to the effect that, in consequence
of the mode in which the Doctor had carried out the direction
of the Special District Meeting which has been mentioned,
*
.
328
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
he should not "for the present" be appointed to any offices
involving the administration of "discipline." The grounds
on which they proceeded have already been alluded to and
will be mentioned again in quoting his defence. Such
resolutions have of course to be confirmed or disallowed. in
Conference, and against this judgment he appealed specially
to that assembly.
TO HIS WIFE.
66
Newcastle, 5th August, 1851.
"My dear Susan,-I have received yours this morning. We must wait
and see what the will of the Lord is concerning us.
“ The following is the amendment proposed in my case. Resolved,—
'Dr. Beaumont's appeal against the decision of the district meeting
having been heard and the whole case carefully reviewed, the Conference
is of opinion that in the very peculiar and difficult circumstances of his
circuit he acted according to his best judgment and took the course
which to himself appeared in harmony with Methodistic rule, and most
likely to promote the interests of the circuit in his charge, and that there-
fore no disciplinary bar affects his official position.' It was moved by Mr.
Inglis and fourteen persons only voted for it!
Mr. Inglis has been spoken to by many preachers in a monitory
manner for having moved such a proposition. One of the fourteen was
conversing with some preachers when came up, shook hands with them,
but refused to shake hands with him who had voted for me, saying that
'there were some of them that were betraying Methodism.' But I will
not dwell on this miserable proceeding. I have just been called out of
Conference by Mr. Riggall of Bristol, one of the stewards of the North
circuit. He called me out to say to me that my way was quite open to
Bristol, he and his fellow-steward, Mr. Alfred Jones, approving of my
appointment. I said that I had not asked for Bristol, and all that I could
say was that, now I knew that the circuit-stewards desired it, I should not
take any active part in opposing, the thing having come about altogether
without any intention or effort of mine.
"Sarah is going with me this afternoon to Shotley Bridge. We shall
not return until the morning. I have written to Mr. Owen for tickets for
yourself and Susan for the prorogation. Love to all.
"I am yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS DAUGHTER MARY.
Newcastle, 8th August, 1851.
My dear Mary,-I am much obliged by your kind letter and sym-
pathy.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
329
It is certainly annoying to be served as I have been for the discharge
of my duty to the cause of a church in which I have so long laboured.
It is a consolation to me that I am sustained by the testimony of a good
conscience and the approbation and confidence of the wise and good who
are not shackled by party or blinded by prejudice. At present I must
dismiss the subject, and let us look up' for comfort in trouble, and for
guidance in perplexity. I feel much more concerned for my family than
myself in this matter.
'Bye the bye let me just mention that I do not expect to be at home
on the 24th, but I preach on that day the anniversary of the chapel at
Warrington. I expect to return home on Monday the 25th, but unless
there is some urgent necessity I shall probably not reach it until six
or seven o'clock in the evening. Sunday the 31st will be my last
in London. On the morning of that day I shall preach if all is well in
Exeter Hall and in the evening in Hinde Street. I have engaged Mr.
McDonald to supply my places in Hinde Street and Milton Street on
the 24th.
"We are getting on in Conference with some despatch. Nothing
additional with respect to myself has transpired since I wrote last. It
is now near three o'clock, when we break up and the Stationing Com-
mittee sits this evening. Mr. Owen informs me that he thought he
could not obtain tickets for the prorogation. I am going to dine at
Tynemouth with Steward and others. With love to mother, Joseph,
Susan, John and Tommy, not forgetting my dear Wilmslow nieces,
I am, my dear Mary,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The proceeding to which the foregoing letters allude af-
fected his mind very deeply. He did not indeed feel himself
in any way lowered by this nominal "degradation," he did not
for a moment regret his course, but rather experienced a new
sense of thankfulness that he had had strength to pursue it as
he had done, yet it was not in the nature of one sensitive as he
was to be indifferent to such a vote coming from an assembly
with which he was most identified and in which he had spent
his best days. A few sentences from his speech on the oc-
casion of the Conference coming to this resolution may pro-
perly be added here. His speeches of this nature were always
quite impromptu and there is no record of them but occasional
and imperfect newspaper reports or sketches in the letters of
himself or the diaries of his friends. After pointing out how
solicitous and how successful he had been in endeavouring
to secure peace and prosperity in his circuit, he said-
330
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Pray, what else could I have done beyond what I have done? It may
be said that I should have put out of society a man who was notoriously
a ringleader in mischief. But you have forms according to which you
must proceed in expelling a man from your church. Are you to tread
him out without form? Are you to get rid of him by fair means if you
can, but by foul means if necessary? You are not to do this according
to Scriptural law or according to Methodistic law. Or if, after you have
done your best, and have done it rightly according to Scriptural law and
according to Methodistic law, you cannot effect your purpose, are you to
do it without either the one or the other? I repeat you are not to do
this. It may be said that I had before me the example of other circuits
in which expulsions similar to those which it was suggested I should
carry out had taken place. But I would ask, has any good purpose been
effected in any case where you have adopted other than constitutional
means? Let -answer-let answer! I have felt that if I took
any such unconstitutional step my circuit would have been devastated;
I could not but perceive that in that case many members and some of
them my own spiritual children, would have been cut off from our society,
and I therefore could not have recourse to measures like these.
“I have no wish to incur your disapprobation in any way, but there is
another kind of disapprobation which I dread a million times more than
yours. I set before my view the final decisions of the Last Day. I have
regard to your written statutes, but I have a far greater regard to the
statutes of Heaven. When I look at the decision contained in the dis-
trict minutes, I find that in point of fact I am not charged with doing
anything, but with not doing. Happy would it be for some of my
brethren if nothing beyond this could be alleged against them! They say
that Dr. Beaumont has not fully redeemed the pledge which he made to
the last Conference.' So then it seems that he has redeemed it in part!
It is satisfactory to find that it is only alleged against me that I have not
fully redeemed my pledge. Have you fully redeemed yours?
"About the propriety or impropriety of this special district meeting
there is a difference of opinion, but I do not feel myself called to
enter upon the discussion of that. I am charged with manifesting "a
want of sympathy with my brethren;' and the proof that is brought for-
ward is the way in which I have headed the new plan. It is well known
that I did not approve of calling the special district meeting, not that I
deny the legality of it, or the constitutional authority of such a meeting,
but I saw and I avowed my belief that the calling of such a meeting at
that time would not be attended with good. I therefore endeavoured, as
long as I could, to stave it off I had the most solemn conviction that if
you proceeded with that special district meeting the result would be dis-
astrous.
"It met-it resolved. A week elapsed before I received the decisions of
´that meeting, and when I did receive them they had no signature attached
to them, and they remain without signature to this day. But did I hesitate
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
331
to act on them on that account? No-by that post I wrote to the three
men to inform them that they were expelled.. I lost not a post.
This, I
confess, was wrong. I ought to have waited-I ought to have demanded
the signatures of the proper authorities. Here then I confess that I have
done something wrong. You may now add to the negative the positive and
say that in this respect I confess to have done wrong. I knew not for a
time whence this document came, but I did at last find out by the post-
mark that it came from and I thence drew the inference that Mr.
was the officer of the court who had sent it. After that I received a
letter from the ex-president, Dr. (whom, I admit, I have never found
wanting in anything which was required by the duties of his office) ask-
ing me if the new plan for my circuit was ready to be issued. My reply
was that I was not previously aware that it had passed the meeting that
I should make such a plan, but that if such a resolution had been passed
I would certainly do it. I was assured that it had passed the meeting,
and I wrote in reply therefore that the new plan should be proceeded
with without delay. Immediately on the reception of the president's
letter, I proceeded with all the dispatch in my power. It is objected
against me that I put at the heading of that plan, 'Issued in pursuance
of a resolution of the Special District Meeting.' I cannot but think that
this was right—it was in itself proper that I should give my authority.
It was right to save my own conscience.
"Now, as to my being denied a superintendency, it appears to me to
matter but little whether in a circuit I am the first, second, third, or
fourth preacher. Being deemed ineligible as a superintendent therefore
does not affect me. I have no lofty ideas of my own qualifications for
such an office; but this assembly of ministers, many of whom were not
in existence when I attended the Conference for the first time, are called
upon to decide that I shall not hold the office of a superintendent of a
circuit, nor be deemed capable of filling any other office. I am to be
placed, I suppose, under the authority of a senior preacher. After a time
it will probably become difficult to find one senior to myself, and I must
then be put under a junior. Is that what you mean? You cannot do
this without stigmatising, without despising me, and the Book says that
we are not to despise one another. I find indeed that in this resolution
are inserted the words, for the present.' To make use of such lan-
guage to a man of my age, what is it but a mockery? To tell such a
man with his grey hairs and failing strength that he is to wear such a
brand for the present,' is a proceeding against which I utter my most
earnest protest. In the name of Him whom we worship, in the name of
the genius of this body, in the name of all that is holy and sacred, I utter
my most solemn protest against this unjust sentence."
Under the renewed censure of the Conference Dr. Beau-
mont had every support which he could have looked for.
Not only had he the proud feeling of having kept his con-
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
t
science clear and his head upright through a long and most
trying period, but he had, as he himself says, the support and
admiration of all wise and good men whose minds were un-
prepossessed with regard to the unhappy Wesleyan disputes.
From the Wesleyan societies at large he received expres-
sions of the deepest sympathy, not only from those who
thought with him on the matters in dispute but from many
of what was called the "Conference party." For weeks and
indeed for months after this Conference he received almost
daily addresses of condolence signed by large numbers of the
leaders and other office-bearers and from private members of
the Wesleyan community. But perhaps the most welcome
tribute of esteem which he received at this time was a testi-
monial which was presented to him by the Hinde Street
society on his leaving them, for it was most grateful to his feel-
ings, after the turbulent period spent amongst them, to find
such a recognition and appreciation of his efforts and genu-
ine desires by those for whom he had suffered much as were
expressed by them in offering him this mark of respect.
Although these painful strifes had darkened his intercourse
with his people, it must be stated that they were quite colla-
teral to and apart from his proper ministerial relations. He
never allowed such disputes to come at all into his pulpit or
pastoral addresses or communications. When he had to
discuss them he did not shrink from doing so, but he always
abstained from introducing them whenever they could be
avoided. The nearest allusions which he made to them in the
pulpit were his more than ordinarily fervid prayers for and
exhortations to peace and love and unity, of and for which
he never ceased to talk and pray during all this period; or, if
sometimes he would allude more particularly to passing events,
he did so only with reference to these great objects, and
he was always careful that those allusions should be entirely
general and such as could not offend the most sensitive.
His last sermon at Hinde Street chapel was preached on a
Sunday evening, the last day of August, and on that occasion
he took for his text these words-" So then every one of us
must give account of himself to God." After an earnest and
beautiful sermon preached to a crowded congregation, he con-
cluded in the following sentences:-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
333
J
pos-
"And now, my brethren, I conclude my labours amongst you. I thank
you for your attendance on my ministry, long continued and amidst
varying circumstances as it has been, and for your general forbearance.
If in the course of my sojourn with you I have offended any one (though
I do not know that I have) I now beg his forgiveness, and if any one has
offended me he has my entire forgiveness and forgetfulness also as far as
that is possible. I leave you with great pain; my heart is attached to
you, and no revolution or change in the position of
any of you can
sibly cause my affection towards you to cease. When Jesus Christ was
leaving his people on earth his words were 'Love one another,' and it is
said of an eminent divine that when he was approaching his end he was
carried to his church and placed at the head of the communion-table,
and when the bread and wine had been administered he raised his toil-
worn and emaciated frame and had only strength to say 'Arise-shine!
My farewell to you is in two sentences-Love one another'—' Arise,
shine!' Be up, be up and be doing! Arise from the dust of worldliness,
sloth and ignorance; shake off the manacles of bigotry and prejudice
and narrowness, and set yourselves to the work of doing good to the
ignorant and unbelieving around you. Love one another-be kind to
one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another-even as God for
Christ's sake has forgiven you. Judge not one another, but wait for the
Lord's judgment.
,
"I leave you of course with pain. The past year has been marked in
this circuit by sad events, but I must say, and I feel happy in being able
to say it, that amidst the loss and scattering and disintegration of the
society, I have not aided it. I have done everything in my power to ward
it off-I have laboured night and day to prevent it. My conscience is
clear in this matter, and nothing on this earth could be any compensa-
tion for the loss of that consciousness. I now give you into the hands of
God-I pray him to grant you peace and prosperity, to heal your waste
places and build up your walls.
"I have no fear for the church of Christ. Some portions of it may be
changed or pass away, but the church itself is immortal in its Head. Yet
with regard to this part of the church, the church of our fathers, the
home of our hearts, which has had my youth and my manhood, the
labour of my intellect and the utterances of my tongue-I would say 'If
I forget thee, oh Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning!
When I cease to speak well of thee let my tongue cleave to the roof of
my mouth!' Farewell-farewell! Live in peace-bear one another's
burdens-above all things put on charity, which is the bond of perfect-
ness; and I pray God that your whole spirit and soul and body may be
preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ. To God's grace and the word of his power I now commend you,
who is able to build you up and to give you an inheritance among them
that are sanctified by Christ Jesus."
To this may be added a few sentences from the parting ad-
dress which he delivered to his people on the occasion of their
334
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
+
1
*
presenting him with the testimonial which has been mentioned.
They illustrate the fashion of his exhortations in respect of the
critical affairs which were at the time transpiring in Methodism.
He said-
I accept your gift with all thankfulness. I value it above all the gold
of California, all the gems of the Indian deep, for it is the gift of love; it
is the expression of your kindness; it is a donation of your friendship ;
it tells me that my poor services, with all their infirmities, are accepted
by the circuit, and valued by them. My services here have been arduous.
I have been called upon to take part in times of great public importance.
The part which I have taken I have not taken hastily. The part which
I have taken I have taken in the light of the Scriptures, under the guid-
ance of John Wesley, and in accordance with the rules of the Methodist
connection. I am aware that it has been my ill fortune to differ with my
brethren as to the course that I have taken under certain circumstances.
It is always to me a matter of regret to differ with them, and when the
matter of difference is trifling, I invariably give way to them all; but
when it is vital, when it is of great importance, when it impinges on the
weal of the church, touches its most essential interests, its continued pro-
gression, its future destinies-then, if my mind is clear as to what is Scrip-
tural and really Methodistical, I must take my stand and abide.
"The interests of Methodism in the Hinde Street circuit are peculiarly
dear to me. I have spent the most valuable years of my life in this circuit.
You had the freshness and the fulness of my powers when I was here before,
and now, when I must be supposed to be advancing into something like
the ‘sere and yellow leaf' (though indeed I do not know it myself), at
any rate when the accumulation of years has taken place, and lengthened
experience has accumulated, I have devoted to you the best products of
my poor brain, the warm affections of my heart, the utmost labours of
my life, and I feel that I have done nothing too much for you. I, of course,
lament and regret that circumstances have transpired to interfere with the
harmony and good working of the circuit; but withal I have a measure
of satisfaction of which no man can rob me, and of which no assembly of
men can ever deprive me. I have a profound satisfaction richer in my bosom
than any gift of gold you could put into my hands, arising from the con-
viction that I have done that which, in the light of the word of God, and
in the light of true Wesleyanism, was best for our connection and for
religion. And having made this allusion, which I could scarcely avoid
making on the present occasion, I may be allowed to pass away from
that subject, and address myself to you for a moment or two as my be-
loved friends from whom I am about to be separated, though I never can
be separated from the Methodist people. I never wish the Methodist
ministers and the Methodist people to be separated from each other. The
ministers and people must coalesce—they must be one. You can never
have a healthy church, a thriving church, a useful church unless mini-
sters and people are united together; just as you cannot have a living
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
335*
healthy man in this world unless body and soul are united as one. In
another world a man may live when soul and body are disparted, but it
is only in the union of the two that a man can exist on earth; just so it
is that you cannot have here a church living and prospering unless mini-
sters and people are knit together. I hope therefore that the ministers of
the Methodist community will not be separated from the Methodist peo-
ple-I hope that the ministers will not take one way and the people an-
other—I hope in God that the union will be maintained.
“We want that warmest thing in the universe, the love of God, and
that next warmest thing in the universe, the love of man; and, with these
two loves coming into play, the Methodist preachers and Methodist people
will again be one, and when they are one again, God grant they may be
made perfect in one, and when we go forth, as John Wesley and his first
coadjutors did, to save souls, to convert sinners, to bring glory to God
and to do honour to Christ, then indeed will come back the original glory
of our connection, and it will be with us as it was in the beginning.
"This is the other kind of oneness of which I was about to speak. I
have said we are one in the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, and now I say
that as Christians we must be one in charity and affection for each other.
Why, the first church was said to be 'of one heart,' and yet it had all
those differences to which I have alluded. But it had in its midst love, a
disinterested generosity, a living active benevolence for the relief of the
widow, the poor, the needy and the helpless. It had a charity whose
wing covered all that were distressed, and a heart which beat warmly for
all that were in trouble. You know that in the first church, on one happy
occasion, even those who were possessed of lands sold them and brought
their money and laid it at the apostles' feet, and distribution was made
unto every man according as he had need.. I do not say that that will
ever be done again, because the circumstances in which it was done will
never occur again; but I am glad it was done once, I am glad for once
love triumphed over all the selfishness of human nature, and that for once
love won the day. But as far as the spirit of the thing is concerned, it
is to be done constantly, to the end of time. Behold, how good and
how pleasant a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.' Oh,
for the diffusion amongst us of heavenly love! May it touch us all,
from the minister to the humblest member, from the patriarch to the
youngest child! Let brotherly love continue-Little children, love one
another!
"And now, my dear friends, in conclusion allow me to say once more,
I thank you. My tongue thanks you, my brain thanks you, my heart
thanks you. I pray God to bless you, to be with you, to keep you. May
He cause His peace to rest upon you, and may He return and visit our
Zion. May He visit this vine which He hath planted, may He water it,
may every obstruction in the way of its growth and fruitfulness be re-
moved, and may He hasten the happy time when Judah shall not envy
+
336
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
+
Ephraim, nor Ephraim vex Judah, and when there shall be one Lord,
and His name one."
It was touching on the occasion when this speech was
uttered by Dr. Beaumont to witness the universal excitement
which pervaded his people, who were deeply grieved at parting,
and at parting under such circumstances. His farewell ser-
vices were indeed always touching scenes-hundreds of the
people, rich and poor, youthful and aged, congregated about
him eager to secure a last kind word; and with tears in their
eyes did they bless the good, well-beloved pastor who endeared
every one to him.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
337
1
CHAPTER XVI.
1851-1854.
SOME years before Dr. Beaumont's actual appointment to
it he had been under an engagement to the Bristol (North)
circuit, the fulfilment of which was only prevented by domestic
affliction. He had also in the course of frequent occasional
services there become well known to the Wesleyans and to
other classes in Bristol. But all his connection with the
Methodist society in that city had been under very different
circumstances to those which now existed, for perhaps the
devastating influence of sectarian discord pervading the Wes-
leyan society had been more fatal in his new circuit than in
any other portion of that community. It had been one of
the most fruitful fields of the labours of Wesley himself, and
from his day downwards the society which bore his name had
commanded there an influence perhaps more extensive. (at
least amongst the educated classes) than it had obtained in
any other important town in the south of England. But as
the summer was brilliant, the storms of winter were severe.
Many of the congregations in this circuit were reduced to
little more than a name. In one of the largest and most
important chapels, for instance, in that great city assemblies
of forty, fifty or sixty hearers were all that could be gathered
on the Sabbath where formerly sixteen or eighteen hundred
were accustomed to be found.
✓
These were painful circumstances and such as Dr. Beau-
mont, with his vehement hatred of dissension and especially
of religious dissension, was peculiarly sensitive to. True, he
was a man, had any man been competent to the task, fitted
to reunite these divided members and to reanimate the muti-
Z
338
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
་
lated form into a consentaneous vitality; but the truth could
not well be concealed, that such a task was in the existing
condition of affairs beyond hope of accomplishment. Party
feeling on both sides was so developed to admit of no accom-
modation, and it was difficult to induce either section to
admit that anything but wrong was with their opponents or
that anything but right was about themselves.
Had one
gifted with apostolic devotedness and love attempted with
the Divine voice of Christ's minister to moderate the zeal
of the "Reformers" without attempting to eradicate all their
principles and smother all their feelings, he would have been
convicted by those opposed to them of tampering with the
"responsibilities of the sacred office." Had such an one en-
deavoured to persuade them that they were unreasonable, un-
charitable to the "Tories" (for the struggle assumed all the
form and employed the phrases of political parties) and to the
Conference and in danger of not extending to others that free-
dom which they claimed for themselves, he who had one while
been lauded as the champion of liberty would have been charac-
terised as truckling to unauthorised power and abetting the
substitution of ecclesiasticism for true spiritual religion. Indeed
it has been seen that Dr. Beaumont-he who cared not one
straw or jot for all the names and voices and assumptions and
threats which any man or body of men could point at him—
had been himself freely charged with abandoning his duty as
a servant of Christ and a guardian of the church for his own
personal interest and ease.
So it was then, that though he had a great sphere of use-
fulness open to him; though he was beloved of those who were
left, though he was influential with the great mass of those
who were separated, while still congregating in large
numbers under the name of Wesleyans, and drew many of
them to enter the old chapels who otherwise would not have
been induced to revisit them; though amongst the established
and dissenting clergy and laity he was welcomed to an exten-
sive sphere of duty beyond the Methodist pale; though the
realms of Great Britain and Ireland were still open to his in-
fluence as formerly-notwithstanding all this he was sorrowful
on entering upon his term at Bristol to find desolate the garden
of the church which he had loved and known well, and to
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
339.
feel the conviction that more genial weather must come
before that garden could be restored to its proper beauty and
order, and that in the mean time his time and talents must
be apparently fruitless, though he had always been habituated
to see the produce springing almost beneath his hand.
It was a great relief to him that he was freed from the
responsibilities and pain which under such circumstances
would have been attendant on the office of superintendent.
In the circuit duties he worked harmoniously with the various
colleagues with whom he was associated-the Rev. Messrs.
C. Cooke, W. Smith, Pengelly, Roberts, Jones and Follows.
All were eager to improve the condition of affairs, "but still"
he used to say, "the evil is there, the people are weaned
from their ministers-they have lost their confidence in them,
and it will take a generation to recover it." Had it not been
that his excursive duties afforded him a more favourable field
for success in his labours than did his own proper sphere, the
dejection which for some time had hung over him in London
would not have been dispersed. The natural stimulus how-
ever which he thus obtained, together with the softening in-
fluence which a more prolonged and regular ministration
amongst his own people afforded, gradually restored him to
his accustomed level of happiness in his great work.
The following letter was addressed to his second son :-
"Monkwearmouth, 12th Nov., 1851.
'My dear John,—I expect to reach Leeds to-morrow at a quarter past
three, I mean the station there, and I shall be glad if you can meet me
at it at that time, as I am so pressed that I cannot get over to Bradford.
I shall be at Mr. Rinder's, Roundhay Terrace-a little out of the smoke
of Leeds. I wish you to accompany me thither, and to remain until
next morning. I have to be at York on Friday, and I return to Bristol
on Saturday.
Last Thursday I took Mary with me to Weston-super-mare, and the
next day to Wrington. There Locke was born, and we went into the
house and the room in which he first Saw the light. It is now inhabited
by very poor people and is fast going to decay. At Wrington also is
Barley Wood, which was the favourite residence of Hannah More. She
is interred in a tomb in the churchyard of Wrington, in which lie also
four of her sisters-in all five maiden ladies enclosed in one common
resting place. In the church there is a very large and elegant marble
tablet to the memory of the celebrated Hannah. In a part of the same
church, enclosed by a screen, there is a desk on which are five folio books
靠
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LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Į
"
well bound, all chained to the place in which they are ranged for the pur-
pose of being read. The first is a Bible, a very fine black letter copy, well
to look on and easy to read; another is a book of acts and sufferings' of
martyrs; another consists of Luther's disputations. I was very much in-
terested with the church and these precious things so well secured in it.
"Barley Wood after the death of Hannah More, all her sisters having
preceded her to the tomb, was sold and is now possessed and inhabited
by Mr. Harford, who is not only a wealthy gentleman but one of great
taste. He permitted us most kindly to see the house, took us over
the dining-room and drawing-rooms himself, and described his pic-
tures, and pointed out other choice articles of vertu which they con-
tain. Many of these he brought from Italy himself, and some he had
prepared there by its inimitable artists under his own orders. We then
strolled through the beautiful walks in the wood in which we met here
and there with stone monuments, one to Locke presented to Hannah
More by Mrs. Montague, another to Bishop Porteus, who was a great
patron and friend of the authoress. We then were conducted to a large
farm and saw there the process of cider-making, and tasted the fresh ex
pressed juice of the apple; and we finished by going into an upper room,
fitted and furnished as a 'reform chapel,' which had been opened on the
previous Sunday and in which were still hanging many beautiful sets,
bouquets, garlands, and festoons of flowers! The dahlias were mag-
nificent, and we made the worthy folk glad and happy by bearing
away some of these adornments of the day of dedication of their humble
worship place, which tells alas! another tale than that of bright, beau-
teous flowers.
“I am your affectionate father,
"Jos. BEAUMONT."
The following letter shows him at work in the metropolis
on the second occasion of his visiting it after his removal in
September.
TO HIS WIFE.
"North End Villa, Fulham, 27th Nov., 1851.
My dear Susan,-I came up yesterday to deliver my lecture at Exeter
Hall which was very full. I was pressed by Mr. Allon, of the Union
Chapel, Islington, to accompany him home and spend the night there,
but I begged off' and have been to see him this morning. I found he
wished to converse with me on Methodist affairs, and to get me to
preach next March the Sunday school sermons in his chapel. I was in-
vited to preach in London also last Sunday and next Sunday and to-
morrow night, but I declined all. And I find since I came to town that
I am requested by the London Missionary Society to preach for it in
London in May, and with this request I suppose I must comply.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
341
"There was no intelligence concerning your brother the morning that
I left home, but he is in perilous circumstances, and the prospect of his
recovery seems but faint. Mortality is proclaimed all around us.
I was
called on Monday afternoon by Mr. P. to go and give the sacrament to
Mr. D. I found the lawyer and the doctor and disease and approaching
death. I administered to him the ordinance and to Mr. P. with him,
and I scarcely expect to find him alive when I return. Mr. Randall too
is dead. We received a card on Sunday morning, I saw him when last
in town, was with him, slept a night there, little thinking that I should
see his face no more. But death has been busy in China also; Christie
is gone! I never thought that she would live long there, and so I did
not encourage her going. Regrets may be painful but they are too late.
"We must look now for life to be more and more checquered, but 'suf-
ficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' and God's grace is sufficient for
any day.
And yet time presses, we are growing old and
our children will soon begin to cease to be young!
"With love to John and all at Bradford,
I am your affectionate husband,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
1, Vesey Place, Monkstown, Dublin, 5th February, 1852.
My dear Sarah,-I left Manchester yesterday afternoon at half-past
one. I reached Chester at three. The day was rainy, very rainy through-
out; I was entertained at a house on the walls overlooking the Dee,
which rolled heavily and loudly, being much swollen with the continued
heavy downfall, which came rushing from the Welsh hills and telling
that all was unquiet in the elements.
“I preached at seven to a very large congregation, which clearly would.
have been too large had not the weather kept many away. I left Chester
by the train at half-past ten last night, having taken a first-class return
ticket. I found myself vis-à-vis with a Protectionist landlord, as he an-
nounced himself to me, who would be very elegant and even learned. He
asked me if I had a copy of the 'Times,' of which he had not been able
to possess himself as he came down, so great was the demand for yester-
day's impression; he even professed his willingness to give ten shillings
for a copy, so that I almost wished myself the possessor of one.
He was
a very tall, handsome, fluent, earnest fellow as I have met with for many
a day. The corn laws and Maynooth, Lord John Russell and Lord
Palmerston, Mr. Buckley (whose speech was in the 'Times,' of which he
had had a glance), Mr. Roebuck and sundry other political reformers
were disposed of in the course of his impassioned sallies. He quoted
largely and grandiloquently, and French came in by way of change. He
was quite histrionic when he described Louis Napoleon's behaviour at
his great ball at the Tuileries the other night, bowing to the Marchioness
342
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
<
1
་
of (the representative of the aristocracy of England), but going up
to the Princess Polownski and “Ah-how do you do-how do you do”
-shaking hands at the same time very cordially. Indeed, but that I
had taken a first-class ticket in order that I might be able, if not to sleep,
yet to have repose for my brain and tongue, I should have been quite
sorry when on the train pulling up at Rhyll he quitted the carriage say-
ing that he was stopping on a visit at a clergyman's there. And so
my amusing companion disappeared, after shaking me heartily by the
hand.
"At Chester I had been strongly urged by mine host' not to cross the
channel last night as the wind was blowing furiously from the west and
there was a heavy sea. I asked him whether he could insure me that the
wind should not be strong in the west and that the sea should not be very
energetic in its motion if I waited till this morning. As he hesitated in
giving such assurance, and telling him that Pompey when dissuaded from
sailing because of foul weather observed that it was necessary for him to
sail but not necessary for him to live, I faced the sea. I got on board at
Holyhead at one o'clock and reached Kingstown at a quarter past six in
safety and well. Indeed truth to tell, I suffered nothing, was not ill, only
for the first half hour a little squeamish, and I believe that for most of
the time I was asleep or in a condition very similar to it. I landed, got
a fly, drove to Vesey Place a distance of not more than half a mile, found
a light in the dwelling and that Mr. Hall had gone to the packet to meet
Somehow we missed each other, and he was in the house in a few
minutes after I entered it. I got some refreshment in the way of tea and
proceeded to bed, and now I feel as if none of these things had happened
to me, such as coming from Bristol by land to Holyhead and from thence
by sea to Ireland. Mrs. Hall quite expected that you would have come,
and is sorry that you have not appeared.
me.
"It is very well that I did not engage for to-morrow evening for any
public service as a party is asked to meet me here at dinner. I shall leave
Kingstown to-morrow morning on my return to Manchester at nine and
arrive there about seven or eight.
"Bye the bye, I wish that you would look at the plan and see if I have
not an appointment on Monday at seven at Durdham Down. If I have,
I wish that you would send a note to the preacher that is appointed there
on Sunday, requesting him to publish for me to preach there on Monday
night at half-past seven instead of seven. Or, which would be less un-
certain, arrange for me to preach there on the first vacant night that I
have on the plan after Sunday. I have not a plan with me and I do not
recollect what other appointments I have next week besides Durdham
Down on Monday. But as I have no engagement abroad next week any
night that I am free will suit me. I do not expect to reach Bristol station
on Monday before seven o'clock.
4
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
343
1
“Love to mother, to Mary, to Susan, and to Annie.-I am, my dear
Sarah,
}
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
Bristol, 13th February, 1852.
"My dear Joseph,-I got over my Anglo-Irish tour last week very
well, although the weather was on some days pretty considerably unto-
ward.
66
Wednesday night when I crossed from Holyhead to Kingstown was
rather rough, but I was so thoroughly tired with the duties of the day
that I slept most of the way. We were four hours getting over. I ar-
rived at Kingstown at six A.M., and kept the house until the evening, when
I went in to Dublin and delivered my lecture to a large and excited audi-
ence.* Friday I spent in rambling up to Killiney for the prospect, over
Trinity College to see its rare MSS. which we did not see when there to-
gether, over the four Courts, which were in session, noting the personnel
of the judges, the chancellor looking wise, and Pennefather at eighty-two
has been
sitting, thinking, talking and judging it on, though
compelled to beat a retreat at sixty. I wandered too over a 'native
museum' in process of formation, in which all matters, original and
manufactured, belonging to the country are being arranged. The house
was formerly occupied by Lord Chancellor Manners and latterly by Lord
Cardigan. We had a large dinner party at my host's in the evening,
which went off very pleasantly and spiritedly. I had not time to reach
Stillorgan, but James's Gate I got through and saw Arthur Guinness.
*
"I am, my dear Joseph,
Your affectionate father,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
+
TO THE SAME.
(C
"Bristol, 23rd March, 1852.
'My dear Joseph,-I should have been glad to have availed myself of
your aid in correcting the proof of the lecture, but owing to the eager-
ness to get it out by the following lecture night according to their custom,
and to the loss of two days by my being abroad, and to the printer's not
attending to my directions as to its transmission, I was obliged to satisfy
myself with a hasty touch, and returned it by the first post after I got
home, and as yet I have not received a 'revise.' I regret that I had not
more time to prepare it, as some parts want newly distributing and con-
densing.†
* This was a lecture on "The Truth and Importance of a Divine Reve-
lation."
+ This alludes to a lecture on the Councils of the Latin Church
344
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
1
"My engagement in London on Sunday the 28th is at Union Chapel,
Islington (Independents), for the anniversary of the Sunday School.
there. I have also an engagement at Dover on Monday and Tuesday,
and my present intention is to reach Bristol on Wednesday the 31st in
time to preach there on that evening. It is probable therefore that I may
come up to town on Friday the 26th, reaching Paddington at three in the
afternoon. I have written to get an order for the House of Lords for
myself on Thursday, and two orders for the Commons and two for the
Lords on Friday-for since her Majesty has been pleased to change her
servants I may fancy to look at them in their new positions. I asked
for Friday that we may both go if disposed, and I begged one for Thurs-
day for myself alone, thinking that you would go on Friday.
"I am your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In the spring of this year he fulfilled two engagements in
London which were attended with much interest to him. One
of these services was the anniversary meeting in that year of
the Ragged School Society, under the presidency of the Earl
of Shaftesbury. In that society he took much interest, and
this was one of his last appearances in Exeter Hall. The
other occasion alluded to is one on which he preached at
"Whitfield's Tabernacle" one of the anniversary sermons of
the London Missionary Society. After this sermon some
generous donor put into the collecting box a £500 note,
which swelled the large collection to an unusual amount,
and on both these occasions his reception and the effect of
his services were very marked and to him most grateful.
"
The attendance upon the Conference of this year was a
trying duty. Various disciplinary measures' were intro-
duced and discussed, and the propositions of a committee of
laymen who had been selected by the Conference for the pur-
pose of making suggestions on the existing state of Wesleyan
affairs and the proper remedy for them was considered. In
all such discussions Dr. Beaumont, who would most gladly
delivered for the Sunday School Institute at Liverpool. The subject was
very extensive and difficult of treatment, and the Doctor had prepared it
very hastily and expressed to the writer his regret at finding that it was ex-
pected by the Institute that it should be printed forthwith. The writer had
offered to aid him in putting it through the press, but the haste to print
was so great that it appeared in a very imperfect and unsatisfactory
form.
LIFE OF DR. BÉAUMONT.
345
have escaped the performance of that duty, was bound to take
and took accordingly a prominent part, and amidst the ex-
citing debates of the assembly his heart grew faint as he
thought of the wasted state of Methodism out of doors and
felt his own powerlessness, standing alone in the Conference,
to effect what he considered was essential to the well-being of
the community. In his letters at this time he wrote with a
feeling of melancholy shrinking from the task of setting
right affairs so out of joint, when he reflected on the solitary
position in which he found himself, almost all those who had
formerly more or less sympathised with his views either having
been expelled, or having withdrawn from the society, or re-
lapsed into silence.
Dr. Beaumont now found himself failing in health, but
he did not one whit relax his exertions up to his last days
except during a period shortly before his death when he was
actually compelled to do so. He still accomplished his full
circuit duties as well as the extraordinary labours which he
continued to undertake. But he evidently felt those labours
more trying and exacting than he had been accustomed to
consider them-he felt some of the physical weaknesses of
age creeping upon him. Writing to one of his sons to visit
home at Christmas in 1852, he says, "Your mother and my-
self are getting older and the future is uncertain and unseen.
Therefore we wish you to come if you can." No doubt the
accumulated results of his almost superhuman exertions now
told upon him; but what was more than this, the events of the
few past years had injured the fountain of his spirit, his
tender, sensitive, psychical heart, as well as the physically
vital organ which was no doubt already much impaired in its
action. Although he thus felt the weight of life, neither he
nor his family knew as they now know what was at work and
how far late events had damaged his constitution. They were
all too much accustomed to seeing him undertake constant
and extreme exertion to suppose that so strong and energetic a
man was near his end, or that anything further than the
tedious and depressing influence of a troublesome` ailment
was upon him. It is now, however, easy to see that something
deeper than this was operating. Allusion has already been
made to the mode in which his cares and sufferings in Hinde
346
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
:
Street affected his physical condition and oppressed the spirit
and frame ordinarily so vigorous, buoyant and lightsome. This
susceptibility gradually reduced his health permanently though
with occasional fluctuations, and a troublesome bronchitis.
which attacked him in 1851 hung about him until the rheu-
matic complaint established itself from which he suffered till
his death, and which may now be thought to have been sympto-
matic of the irremediable damage which had occurred to his
heart. His labours only touched the superstructure, so to
speak, of his being, but the cares and sorrows which the
troubles of Methodism brought upon him sapped its founda-
tion.
He became however, if possible, more and more devoted
and tender, happy and kind as his approaching weakness over-
shadowed his career, and the close of his life displayed in
their highest perfection his constant, ever-active piety, his
fortitude and resignation, his exquisite courtesy and kindness,
and the cheerful and placid current of his mind.
The summer and autumn of 1852 will be remembered in
the household which he has left for ever as one which he
brightened with a brilliant happiness. Various preaching
services and other occasions led him into the beautiful coun-
tries of Wales and England which surround Bristol, and in
these excursions he was frequently accompanied by some
members of his family. A short holiday which he spent
with his family at Ilfracombe in September was the last of
the domestic gatherings of that nature in which he was to
take part, and never was he more full of youthful feeling,
more sensitive to the beauties of nature, more assiduous in
his endeavours to make the sojourn on that romantic coast as
full of delight and enjoyment as it could be made to those
about him. Nor will the writer soon forget a visit which his
father paid to London in the November following for the pur-
pose of preaching and speaking for several metropolitan reli-
gious and charitable societies, at the period appointed for the
obsequies of" the Duke.". They together visited the remains
of that great man as they lay in state and together witnessed
the magnificent and touching spectacle of his obsequies. The
father was so much impressed with the solemnity of the
former spectacle that he preferred to abandon an engagement
•
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
347
for the evening preceding the funeral which was less con-
sistent with the feelings of the hour in order to listen
to the strains of "Joshua" and the splendid fragment of
"Christus," and the twenty-four hours spent in thus paying
homage to the memory of a hero were passed by him in a
spirit of such genuine and unaffected sensitiveness that his
son could only envy the warmth and freshness of heart which
left him thus subject to influences so elevating.
For the character of the Duke of Wellington the Doctor, it
has been observed already, entertained a very high veneration,
impressed as he was with the almost unique display which it
afforded of versatility and power governed in such a manner
by a controlling sense of duty, by modesty and moderation as
to constitute him a fit ideal for an Englishman. When some
one sneered at the Duke as an irreligious man he replied,
"It's very easily said, but I don't know what warrant there is either in
the Bible or the world for thinking so. If a man is inclined to hope all
things, as he should be, I should think he might presume that one who
had done so much for justice and truth and religion itself, held such an
upright course, rendered unto all men that which was their due and who
had himself in his last days afforded a distinguished example of habitual
observance of outward religious duties, had made his peace with God. I
should not like to think that the Duke of Wellington is not in heaven. It
would be a pitiable thing for thousands of professing Christians, it would
would be a dispiriting thought to the world and would show the origin
and nature of evil and the theory of retribution as problems even more
difficult of solution than they seem to me."
His zeal and ardour about his work is displayed in the
following letter to his eldest son which refers to an occasion
when he suffered much from a very serious illness, aggravated
by his untiring labours. A day or two before Christmas-
day (1852) he returned from one of his preaching tours with
a severe influenza, but disregarding this he preached twice on
Christmas-day, and three times the following day (Sunday).
The weather was very severe and, as may be imagined, he was
compelled to take to his bed after these exertions. The
Wesleyans have a custom of holding on the last night of
every year a "watch-night" service in the celebration of which
they enter upon the new year, and when the time for this
service arrived the Doctor was not in the least recovered; but,
348
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
knowing that his congregation would be much disappointed
were he not to preach to them, he left his bed to do so, and
returned from the pulpit to his sick bed. Of course an
influenza thus humoured did not relax its hold and this
affection hung about him for a long time.
(C
'Bristol, 10th January, 1853.
My dear Joseph,—I am not worse than when you left us. I told G.
this morning that as I had rebelled against his orders I supposed he had
given me over to my fate. I can get nothing from him but that I must
be quiet. I kept in' the whole of last week, but I took all my work
yesterday. I preached in the morning in Portland chapel; renewed the
covenant and gave the sacrament there in the afternoon, and preached
at King Street in the evening. I was no doubt unfit for such efforts, but
that day month is my day at Liverpool or somewhere and I felt that, if
I were out of my places yesterday, I could not permit myself to be absent
from the corresponding appointments a month after.
“I
suppose that upon the whole I may be considered convalescent in
some small degree. But I received a blow yesterday fortnight in the
severe work and walking of that day-having to be at Hotwell Road in
the morning, to walk up to Durdham Down in the afternoon, thence to
get to Grenville for the evening and having, after all, walked from Gren-
ville home in extreme exhaustion-a blow from which I have been
staggering ever since, and have not yet quite found my feet.
"I wish, when you see the W.'s, or any of the Young Men's Christian
Association people, you would inquire on what day its annual meeting is
held.
Your writing is becoming nearly ille-
gible-pray do not let it become altogether so.
I am, my dear Joseph,
Your affectionate father,
“JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
A letter of this period to his friend Mr. Carter affords an
additional illustration of his anxiety not to give any ground
of offence to any class of persons by anything which he did
not feel an absolute obligation to do. It refers to a request
which had been made to him to act as one of the adjudicators
of a prize which had been offered for the best essay on the
"Pastoral Office." The nature and extent of authority over
the Church properly belonging to that office was one of the
contested points in Wesleyan politics, and he feared therefore
that ill-feeling might possibly arise from his assenting to this
request. In the letter in question he writes:-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
349
'I seldom change or retract-but I must say that I do not feel all
that quiet satisfaction in the consent which I sent to you yesterday to be
one of the 'adjudicators' which I generally experience when I have
taken my decision on any matter calling for one.
“The scales of my judgment preponderate on the side of declining the
service to which I have referred. I hope therefore that you will excuse
this apparent weakness on my part, and permit me to withdraw my
assent to be an adjudicator which I made yesterday.”
1
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
Bristol, 21st March, 1853.
"My dear Joseph,-I am glad to learn from you that you have
been so arduously employed. We must work and trust for the future!
My health is failing me. I have been much worse since I was in
town, especially last week. The last few months have made more
desolating inroads upon it than the previous forty years of labour, indeed
perhaps I should be thinking of retirement instead of labouring severely
and suffering considerably still. What is called cold has hung about me
ever since Christmas. Cough has never been wholly a-wanting all that
time, and flesh and strength have been diminishing. Last week—this
day week-all these conditions became aggravated and I suffered great
debility and no little depression. I was however labouring in full work
every day. On Friday I went to Leeds and preached there at night.
On Saturday I went to Stourport, preached there twice yesterday, and
this morning I returned home-better perhaps than I left it.
"This state of the matter is no doubt somewhat serious, and there have
not been wanting moments in which I have felt that the sentence of death
had gone forth against me. The weather has been trying and my labour
has been excessive. I am I suppose like others unwilling to give in, to
'knock under,' but nature will not be forced, and the Divine will is
mighty. I have only to learn it and acquiesce.
"I remain at home till Friday morning when, if equal to it, I have to
go to Blandford. I return home on Saturday. Next week I had partly
consented to go to Dover and Reading, but I am made to pause and shall
wait until to-morrow ere I decide the matter. Mr. Cozens-Hardy has
urged me to visit Letheringsett, and to deliver a speech or lecture at the
Jubilee Bible Meeting presided over by another magistrate, but I have
been obliged to decline the request at least for the present, being so pressed
with engagements.
"I am your affectionate father,
1
1
TO W. B. CARTER, ESQ.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
66
Bristol, 5th April, 1853.
My dear Sir, I am sorry to hear of M.'s indisposition and shall be
T
350
;
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
glad to find that she is better on my arrival. My health has materially
suffered during the last three months. My cough has now much abated,
but my flesh and strength have not yet returned. I trust that the afflic-
tion has been profitable, adding to humility and spirituality—those pre-
cious attainments and conditions. I regret that Mrs. Beaumont cannot
accompany me on this visit; nor can we at present say anything about
the future, but that if opportunity and circumstances shall favour a visit
from her in the summer, she will be happy to find her way to you.
'I am sorry to learn that Mrs. Carter's strength has experienced some
diminution. Oh, how delightful the confidence that when strength and
flesh decay God is the strength of our heart and will be our portion for
ever!
I may come to you by the south and, in that case, I expect to reach
Nottingham at six o'clock. If I come direct, I expect to arrive at half-
past six, all being well. With love to Mrs. Carter and family, I am, my
dear sir,
"Yours sincerely and affectionately,
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
TO HIS DAUGHTER SUSAN.
"
Edinburgh, 5th June, 1853.
'My dear Susan,—I was glad to receive yours sent to Nenthead and
thence to Edinburgh. My lecture at Newcastle was most numerously
attended, thronged indeed, and took me nearly three hours to deliver!
Mr. R., Mr. I. and Mr. S. were there, and also Mr. and Mrs. R., to whom.
I spoke but on whom I had not time to call.
"At Nenthead the miners and other inhabitants gathered in great
strength. In the afternoon, on Friday, the chapel was very full and at
night I was obliged to begin three quarters of an hour before the time and
as the chapel was then crammed, a great multitude had to remain outside.
I did not reach Edinburgh until half-past seven, having had to wait four
hours at Carlisle for a train thence to this place. I have preached this
morning-to a chapel tolerably filled. Mr. and Mrs. M'B. are coming
to dine here, and Mr. and Mrs. S. have engaged me to dine there to-
morrow.
"I am appointed to meet Mrs. F.'s class at Baptist Mills at six on Mon-
day the 13th. I fear that I shall not be able to get there until nearly
seven o'clock, and I propose therefore to meet the class after preaching
on that evening instead of before preaching. I enclose a note to her.
"The congregation at Edinburgh is greatly changed-many are away
-many have fallen asleep-and we must all work while it is day.
I hope that Tom is better, or we must take advice for him. With love
to all, I am, my dear Susan,
"Your affectionate father,
·
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
351
The following letter was addressed to his youngest son, a
boy of twelve years of age.
Birmingham, June 8, 1853.
My dear Tommy,
1
"On Monday was 'George Heriot's day' in Edinburgh. He was the
founder of an amply endowed hospital (for education) there; it was
his birthday, it being three hundred years since he commenced life, and
by his good deeds he seems destined never to die, at least out of memory.
The school attended religious service at the Greyfriars' Church where
one of the city ministers preached on the occasion, the bailies (magis-
trates) and councillors attending in their scarlet robes. After service,
the scholars, teachers, magistrates and visitors proceeded to the grounds
of the hospital, where the schools were regularly disposed, and sung appro-
priate pieces and were addressed from a platform by another city minister.
'God save the Queen' was then sung by the youngsters, who made the
welkin ring with their fine, fresh, melodious voices. This ceremony being
over, the magistrates, clergy and governors proceeded to a council-room
in the hospital to take refreshments and I was invited and joined them
accordingly.
"I saw the boys at dinner. Each plate was accompanied with an
orange and a glass of wine, with which the health of the Lady Provost
(who was present, the Lord Provost being away in London), of the Go-
vernors, of the 'Auld Callants,' and of the Masters was drank and cheered
in a fresh and cordial manner. The Head Master reported favourably
of the boys, and 'Bailie' addressed them, observing that there were
some dunces among them, whom he advised to make vigorous application.
Thereupon the Head Master said he observed that, upon the Bailie inti-
mating that there were possibly dunces among them, each boy looked
round as much as to say, 'Where are they-I'm glad I am not one.' He
advised the less talented to make up by extra diligence for any lack in
the other matter. The day was beautiful and it was a reviving and joy-
ous festival. It was finished by a dinner to the Governors, Bailies,
Clergy and visitors, but I could not participate as I had an engagement
to dine at Mr. Stewart's, and did not emulate the Duke of Wellington
who ate two dinners in a day by way of fulfilling his public duties right
and left without flagging.
"I went down to Leith after breakfasting with Dr. Hunter yesterday,
and had a crack' with old Mr. P. (who occupies the house over the
preachers), Mrs. A. (whom I united to her husband by marriage cere-
mony) and with the preacher and his wife.
"I called on Mr. B. at his house on my return, found him not a day
older in appearance or manner, and he begged his love to your mother
and the rest. I should have liked to have made you all some purchases,

352
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
but alas! for 'grievous want of coin,' I was obliged to deny myself alto-
gether in this matter.
I left by the mail train last night at eight and reached Birmingham
this morning. I have been resting or rather writing this afternoon, and
I have to preach here to-night. To-morrow I go to Radcliffe-on-Trent,
and next day to Crowle, and thence on Saturday to Rawtenstall, near
Manchester. So that now I do not expect to reach home until Monday
afternoon.
"And now with love to mother and sisters, I remain, my dear boy,
Your affectionate father,
"J. BEAUMONT."
In the month of July, 1853, he delivered a splendid sermon
in the chapel of the Rev. Baptist Noel on the occasion of
the Jubilee of the Sunday School Union. This was the last
time he preached in London. On subsequent occasions for
which his services were requested he was unable to comply,
being forced very soon after this to restrict his ministerial
labours.
-
TO HIS DAUGHTER MARY.
"
Holmfirth, 22nd July, 1853.
"My dear Mary,-I left Luton yesterday at ten and reached Castle
Donington at four. There was a large congregation in the evening
at the chapel, and I went afterwards into the humble house close to it
in which I first drew my breath and saw the light, now nearly sixty
years ago. It is a sacred satisfaction that these years have been busily
and usefully spent.
"Mr. Sowter brought me this morning to Derby, where I took the
train for Sheffield and thence to Dunford Bridge, three miles from Holm-
firth. Mr. A. Cuttel was waiting my arrival there with a carriage, and
when I stepped forth upon the platform he asked for Mrs. Beaumont and
seemed much disappointed when I said she has not come, for I had told
him in my last letter that I partly expected she would accompany me.
"After preaching the other day in Cheedle I went through the Roman
Catholic church there, built by the late Earl of Shrewsbury. It is a
magnificent place indeed; its exterior is very perfect and elaborate and
impressive, with a beautiful tower nearly three hundred feet high. The
interior of the church is gorgeous in the extreme-painted windows every-
where and beautiful encaustic tile pavement. Over the principal altar is
a painting of the last judgment, and one of the windows is composed
´of 'lights,' the subjects of which represent the deeds of Mercy. One is
feeding the hungry, another giving drink to the thirsty, another visiting
the sick, another clothing the naked, another releasing the prisoner from
his chains, and another burying the dead. Over the whole broods the
↑
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
353
dove, representing the Spirit prompting to all these eleemosynary deeds.
Love to all.-I am, my dear Mary,
"Your affectionate father,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT.”
Writing to his wife at this time he speaks of his last visit
to Holmfirth, in which he always took a great interest. He
says, "I made a gratifying visit to Holmfirth. The congre-
gation was a full one-a very rare occurrence, as one-half,
and it is said the largest half, of the people are with the re-
formers. The collections were £58. I went to see Longley,
where my ancestors, my father and his brother after him,
lived so long."
(
TO HIS DAUGHTER MARY.
Bradford, August 4, 1853.
My dear Mary,-I'm sorry that there has been such a gap in the
communications to you from this place. I wrote a good many letters on
Saturday, including one to Joseph, and presumed that your mother would
write to Bristol, but that it seems she has not done.
Nothing particular occurred last week beyond what I mentioned to
you. On Sunday morning I preached here in a large Independent
chapel to a very large congregation. In the afternoon I went to Halifax
and preached there in the evening, where the congregation, considering
the shattered state of things and the very heavy rain that fell all afternoon
and evening, was very good. On Monday I went to Middlesborough-on-
Tees, near Stockton, and preached there in the evening. Mr. and Mrs.
Walker from Stockton came over and a multitude of folk from the region
round about. Having to preach at Bramley on Tuesday evening on my
way back to Bradford (as there was no Conference), I called at Harrogate
and spent five or six hours there, got to Bramley for my service in the
evening, and (as yesterday morning there was no Conference) I remained
at Bramley till the afternoon for quiet and fresh air.
<
"The Stationing Committee is now sitting making changes, and pro-
bably the stations' will be read at the evening sitting. My continuance
at Bristol may be deemed certain as I am by no means disposed to re-
move.
"With love to Sarah and Susan, I am
*
"Your affectionate father,
TO HIS WIFE.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT,"
Bridgewater, 5th October, 1853.
My very dear Susan,-So you have safely reached that notable city
A A
3
354
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
Edinburgh. Now I should like very much indeed to come thither next
week to attend the gathering of the Peace Society which falls to be held
there, but the expense is too great to warrant my taking such a journey.
The time, too, required for that purpose is a consideration, and upon the
whole I must forego the gratification.
You will have learned that John is at present visiting Bristol, having
taken advantage of an excursion-train from the north. I have wished
the children to go under his guidance to Tenby, and have proposed their
going there on Friday, and as I have to be at Pembroke Dock on Sunday
I might spend possibly two or three days with them at Tenby. But they
do not seem disposed to go. I am going on Sunday to Pembroke Dock
as I said. It is not far from Tenby, and whether I shall see it or not I
can hardly say as I prefer going by rail. Family news I need not detail
as it will reach you from the children.
"A few days ago I preached for the Sunday School at Burnley. The
day was the most boisterous and rainy throughout that I remember to
have known for many a month-I might safely say for years. The con-
gregations nevertheless were very large, and at night I was obliged to
commence the service full a quarter of an hour before the time announced
for, and the collections reached upwards of £144! Certainly many
waters could not quench the determined will and glowing sympathy of
multitudes. I am going to-morrow to the Buxton circuit, and on Wed-
nesday I 'open an organ' at Walsall. I preached to a crowd at Liver-
pool on Thursday at the re-opening of Pitt-street Chapel there.
"I went the other day, when at Winchester, to see the 'longest cathe-
dral' in England, its nave extending some thirty feet beyond the length
of any other. It is a noble edifice, as is in truth every cathedral. The
remains of several Saxon kings are preserved there in sarcophagi, placed
at intervals on the top of the walls enclosing the choir, which, with the
altar screen, are most beautiful. St. Swithin lies buried there, and Wil-
liam of Wyckham. The chapel of the latter is very fine, as is his own
monument surmounted by his recumbent figure executed in fine alabaster,
both of which he completed himself ten years before his death. There
is a painting over the altar by West of the raising of Lazarus, which I
had not light enough to see to advantage. I went the next morning early
to see the college and its chapel-both being very fine, and the painted
windows in the latter being glorious and exquisite. I could not but ad-
mire the device of two rows of figures in a range of windows--the top one
being the Prophets-the lower the Apostles.
"I am yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The following letter mentions an instance in addition to
those which have been given of the care which he took to
avoid giving rise to any feeling of a sectional or unpleasant
character, which he was always as anxious to suppress (even
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
355
when its expression would be in his own honour) as he was.
indifferent or rather superior to party opposition when duty
required him to encounter it. It alludes to an occasion on
which he had undertaken to deliver a lecture for the Bible
Society at Holt. This was in the district of his friend Mr.
Cozens-Hardy, in which the spirit of Wesleyan agitation had
been unusually strong. Dr. Beaumont was much beloved there,
but he was at first unwilling to give this lecture as it was thought
probable that the Reformers would make a "demonstration "
in his favour, which might give rise to ill feeling.
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
Letheringsett Hall, 9th Feb., 1854.
'My dear Joseph,—I arrived at Ramsgate at four on Tuesday, and I
preached in the evening to a full audience, among whom were eight or
nine ministers, besides the Wesleyan preachers. I left yesterday morning
by express at seven, arrived at London Bridge within five minutes of the
time that we were due there, got off from Shoreditch station at eleven,
and reached Fakenham at five, being some twenty minutes behind our
time. Mr. Cozens-Hardy and his son met me there, and we drove tandem
in a dog-cart twelve miles-reaching the house at six. The lecture was
at half-past seven, and took me an hour and fifty minutes.
Mr. Cozens-Hardy took the chair, and the rector gave out a hymn.
Cozens-Hardy spoke shortly and to the purpose without making any
reference to recent events-indeed there was such a total absence of
anything of the kind that, as far as appeared by the proceedings of last
night, there might have been neither Wesleyans nor Reformers in the
universe. I had requested Cozens-Hardy beforehand, in order to avoid
anything personal to me, to offer no vote of thanks except to the chair,
and immediately on the close of my lecture he rose and said‘after the
lecture we have heard we cannot do better than sing the Doxology.' The
worthy rector then gave out 'From all that dwell below the skies,' some
lines were sung, and the benediction pronounced. Nothing could have
been conducted better throughout.
They press me here very much to remain until Saturday morning.
I have not yet consented, but may break down before the importunity
put forth, and if so I shall not see you at all or in return, as in that case
I shall only reach London at four, and must get across to Paddington in
time for the train to Bristol. Do not therefore wait for me on Friday.
*
"I am, my dear Joseph,
Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAumont."
In the spring of 1854 the rheumatic symptoms which
oppressed him grievously during the last months of his life
356
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
were developed. But not yet did he abandon or even rest
from his toilsome labours, as such letters as the following
abundantly testify.
TO HIS DAUGHTER SUSAN.
"Manchester, 13th March, 1854.
My dear Susan,—At Hexham I found an old church, part of a former
cathedral, the portion still remaining being greatly too large for the
present church-going population of the place. There was formerly an
abbey there of vast extent, some parts of which remain to this day and
will remain I dare say for ages yet to come. The chapel was well
attended—at night it was quite full; but there as elsewhere the Metho-
dists have greatly suffered by the recent commotions.
"On Saturday I came through Newcastle, Leeds and Huddersfield to
Manchester, reaching it at half-past six. Yesterday morning the chapel
was very full, aisles and all, and at night multitudes were disappointed,
unable to get in at all. I am this morning proceeding to Burslem, preach-
ing to-night at Hanley, and to-morrow morning I purpose to leave it at five
in a gig to take the train at Stoke at a quarter to six, so that I may reach
home by three o'clock in the afternoon. Having suffered a disappoint-
ment in my journey to Crewe, I had better not be too confident of reach-
ing Stoke by the early hour that I have indicated. I doubt not however
that I shall do it and be in Bristol by the time that I have mentioned.
If I should fail at that time, it will be half-past six ere I can arrive, and
I have to meet Miss L.'s class at King Street Chapel at six.
"It was odd that I should have to sleep at Crewe the other night. I
slept there many years ago, having forgotten the place that I was going
to-the only instance of such a failure of memory that has befallen me
in journeying of forty years. The Queen slept there two or three years
ago, and persons were allowed to sleep in her bed afterwards-at a pound
a night!
"I am your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The circumstance here mentioned of his forgetfulness of
his destination is curious, though perhaps it is more curious
that, as he remarks, it never happened in any other instance.
Some years before this he had been engaged for a service at
some town or village not far from Crewe, the name of which
was not familiar to him, as it was a small place and one at
which he had never been. He remembered to have ascer-
tained that he could arrive within an easy distance of it by
a night coach from Crewe, and after making vain attempts to
find out what the place was, he gave directions to the "boots"
to call him when every coach was starting through the night,
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
357
in hopes of finding out some clue to his destination. This
plan was unsuccessful, but in the early morning he was re-
lieved by the arrival of a messenger from the forgotten place
in search of the missing preacher.
TO HIS SON JOHN.*
ર
Bristol, 1st April, 1854.
My dear John,-Your mother and Sarah have gone to Southampton
to be ready to receive Fanny and her family there on the arrival of the
Ripon steamer due there on Sunday next, but expected on Monday. I
cannot very well spare the time to go but I have written to Joseph about
doing so. It would take me away on Sunday from King Street from my
appointment at which I was absent that day a month ago. It would in-
terfere also with my engagements next week, during which I am abroad
at Redditch, Nottingham, Horncastle and Uttoxeter.
"Polly has been a few days at Bath and has not yet returned. I shall
go to Cheltenham on Monday morning, but she will probably remain here
a little longer. At present only Mary is with me here, Susan being at
Bath with Polly. I am thinking what a difference between things here
to-day and this day week. It is well it is not the Russians that are
'coming' but-ourselves.
"As you will be thinking about the future, I may say that I think of
accepting an invitation to Hull West-to me perhaps more agreeable than
any circuit except London. There is a good medical school at Hull, an
infirmary making one hundred and twenty beds, and lectures, attendance
at which passes at Surgeon's and Apothecaries' Halls. So that if you
should complete your time at Bradford before I shall finish mine at Hull,
supposing you should not have abandoned medicine for some more advan-
tageous profession or occupation, you may at Hull keep up the original
game.
*
"Let me hear from you-how you are getting on. Be diligent. I am,
my dear John,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
* The writer feels he should crave the indulgence of the general
reader for the minuteness (which must appear to such unnecessary) with
which especially this portion of Dr. Beaumont's life is chronicled through
the medium of his own letters. If these pages have not evoked from the
stranger a sympathy sufficient to secure this indulgence they are sadly
deficient in what they should possess; but a large class exists to whom
these letters will be welcome as the last words and records of some of the
last works and thoughts of a beloved and revered friend. Moreover Dr.
Beaumont's family conceive that the remarkable circumstances attending
his death make it fitting that a somewhat detailed account of his last ill-
ness should be published.
358
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
4.
TO HIS DAUGHTER SUSAN.
"Nottingham, 5th April, 1854.
My dear Susan,—On my arrival at this place this afternoon I found
a letter from Mr. Milne dated Southampton yesterday, informing me of
the safe arrival at that place of himself and family. From the tenor of
his letter I conclude that, himself excepted, on this day all have reached
Bristol in safety, and you will no doubt be unspeakably glad to meet
Fanny again.
"I have been thinking that, as I shall not be at home during Tom's
Easter holidays, it will be well for you to send for him to come to us on
Saturday, and to return early on Monday morning, as he will be with you
again I suppose on the Thursday following. I wish therefore you would
write accordingly to arrange his coming.
((
Yesterday I went from Redditch to Edwinstone, which is situated in
the 'Dukeries'—a forest scene in which is Welbeck Abbey, the seat of
the Duke of Newcastle; Rufford Abbey, the seat of the Earl of Scar-
borough; and Thoresby Hall, the seat of Earl Manvers. This morning
I explored the forest in part, and went to see the largest oak in England,
in a cavity of the trunk of which twenty people may find location. I saw
another famous oak, or rather the remains of one, on my way from
Edwinstone to Mansfield, called the Parliamentary Oak, under which
King Charles when hunting in the forest summoned such functionaries
as were attending him and within reach on some public emergency there
to transact some great state business. This tree is estimated to be three
hundred years old.
"I also found time to go to and looked through it, beginning with
a walk through the cellars in which there were many rows of vats filled,
in one cellar with table beer, in another with ale and so on. We were
supplied with some of the latter before we left the house. It was a fine
potent fluid, a great favourite I dare say with the connoisseurs in such
fluids. It is a large, old irregular house, having a chapel in it, in which ser-
vice is held every Sabbath day. Some time ago the chaplain was detected
'poaching,' and taken with a hare on his person! It was said that if he
were dismissed himself and family would be ruined. At length his Lord-
ship, who made a great deal of the affair, permitted the chaplain to see
him, and some kind of reconciliation ensued. The following Sunday the
chaplain occupied the pulpit in the said chapel, my Lord being in the
family pew (or rather parlour), and the chaplain discoursed upon that
occasion from the words' How oft shall I forgive him-until seven times?
Jesus saith unto him "I say not until seven, but until seventy times
,"'—and he is chaplain still! The house consists, as all such houses
do, of a hall, corridors, dining-room, drawing-room, library, my Lord's
sitting-room,' and so on-and' my Lord's bed' was shown me, of course
in 'my Lord's bed-room!' In another bed-room was shown me a bed
but,
on which the Duke of Sussex slept when on a visit at
seven,
6
to my surprise, they did not show me any particular spot of ground
upon which he walked. There is also a picture gallery, long and hung
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
359
A
on both sides with portraits, mostly family ones-but many have faded
and others are undergoing the same unwelcomed transition.
I have received no letter since I left home but the one acknowledged
at the beginning of this long note. Love to all-not omitting the long
missing one and her children.
"I am, my dear Susan,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The return of his daughter and her family from China,
to which this letter refers, was a source of much delight
to him. He had been looking for some time for their arrival,
and it is fortunate that it was not further delayed, for the
lamp of his life was now burning low in the socket. As the
spring wore on and his infirmities increased he was obliged
to pay more deference to the mandates imposed by nature;
but he did this unwillingly, uncertainly and only occasionally
until the latter end of the year. It seemed impossible to
quench his ardent desire to labour without stint or rest in his
great calling. His superintendent at Bristol, the Rev. C.
Cooke, writes with regard to this time thus: "His (Dr. Beau-
mont's) labours were often more than any man ought to have
attempted. On one occasion, I well remember, he attended
a trustee meeting at one of the chapels at five in the after-
noon (I think just after a long journey), met a class for the
renewal of tickets at six, preached at seven, and then hastened
to the Broadmead Rooms and delivered a lecture on "The
Inquisition" to an immense crowd. He commenced this
lecture a few minutes after eight and concluded at ten, and
threw his whole soul into his work. Such services as these
he frequently performed, and I saw his health giving way
under such multifarious and extreme labours, but there was
no possibility of restraining him." The following letter con-
tains the first sign of his yielding at all to his malady and
was itself written when in the midst of a protracted series of
public engagements in various places, after which he had in-
tended to take two or three days rest at Buxton.
TO HIS DAUGHTER MARY.
Rawtenstall, 22nd May, 1854.
My dear Mary,-Yesterday the congregations were very, very large;
360
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
I
at night the multitudes thronged every inch of the vast chapel, so that at
least two thousand people must have been within it.
I cannot say that my attack is any better, so that I am compelled to
think whether I must not take a longer time at Buxton than two or three
days next week on my return from Edinburgh. A difficulty is that I anı
planned in the evening of the 4th of June at Portland with the Sunday-
school anniversary-however it may be a duty to provide for that, and
in a few days more I shall be better able to determine the point.
The other day I went to see Dovedale, close to Ashbourne. It is a
scene of great natural beauty, composed of glens and rocks and woods
and water-the river Dove, winding among the whole with its quiet pel-
lucid stream, revealing its treasured and beautiful tenants, the trout and
grayling, adds to the charm.
*
"With love to all, I am, my dear Mary,
"Your affectionate father,
*
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS ELDEST SON.
My dear Joseph,—
"The Shakspeare, Buxton, June 7th, 1854.
I shall remain here until Saturday morning, though as your grand-
mama's funeral does not take place till Tuesday or Wednesday of next
week I do not expect to reach home until after Sunday. I shall be at the
funeral, at least if Bath and not London is to be the place of sepulture.
Susan says that this was undecided when she wrote.
I enjoyed my Edinburgh visit as I always do. Thence I came hither,
and arrived at two this day week. I have bathed each day including Wed-
nesday and Saturday; on the afternoon of the latter I went to Stoke in the
Potteries, preached there on Sunday and at Mow Cop on Monday, and
returned to Buxton yesterday morning, bathed in the afternoon and to-
day I am going to be shampooed.' I still walk with difficulty, my
knees, ankles and insteps being now the parts mainly involved and en-
feebled. My hands have not all their accustomed cunning,' still I am
in the way of getting better, and constitutionally I am suffering but little.
The weather has been mainly cold whilst I have been here, though dry,
and to-day may pass in these northern regions for summer.
66
I expect to be in London to preach on the evening of the 21st, all
being well.
"I am, my dear Joseph,
"
Your affectionate father,
'My dear Mary,—
JOSEPH BEAUMONT.
TO HIS DAUGHTER MARY.
"Nailsworth, 12th July, 1854.
*
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
361
I left Buxton on Saturday at eleven and reached this place at half-
past eight. I very much enjoyed the Sabbath here. Leifchild's chapel
is a very nice one indeed, in a most beautiful situation on the side and
near the top of a hill, with the river beneath and rising hills on the other
side of the valley (which is beautifully wooded)-forming altogether a scene
of rare beauty. The chapel was full in the morning and crammed exces-
sively at night. It was every way a high day, and a great and strong
influence was stirring among the multitudes that attended.
This neighbourhood is exceedingly interesting, and this morning the
rain is coming down delightfully. If it shall cease soon I shall have a
drive to some of the beauty spots about, for the fact is that I have con-
sented to preach for the Wesleyan school here to-night in Leifchild's
chapel-being very much larger than our's-lest any one should think I
withheld from our own people that which I gave to others,* and this I am
remaining here to-day to accomplish. I leave to-night from the Stroud
station, four miles hence, by the night mail-train for London, which I
shall reach, all being well, by five to-morrow morning-plenty of time to
get to Hunter Street by the appointed time.
'My lameness excepted, I am pretty well, and I am, my dear Mary,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Some of the preceding letters have mentioned the invitation
which he received from Hull in the spring to return to the
society there as pastor for the ensuing year. This invitation
he accepted, and to the West circuit there he was ultimately ap-
pointed; but, as his illness became more confirmed and serious,
his family became very anxious as to whether the prospective
location in Hull would not be injurious to him and they urged
upon him strongly that the consideration of his health should
absolutely govern his movements. Replying to a letter in
which the writer had pressed upon him these views and had
begged him to abandon his labours to a great extent, if not
altogether, and to commence such a course forthwith by ab-
staining from attending the approaching Conference, he wrote
thus, -
I am on my way to Crewe to preach there to-night; to-morrow I go
to Rochdale for Sunday; on Monday I go to Scarborough and preach
there that evening; and then on Tuesday make my way to the Conference,
which opens on Wednesday, if I do resolve after all to attend it. No doubt
there is much in what you say about taking the season for trading in the
matter of health, as it may never return. I am inclined to divide the
* Mr. Leifchild's chapel was one belonging to the Independents.
362
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
F
才
​matter-and to attend eight or ten days and then to retire from its sit-
tings. On Monday my decision one way or other must be taken."
In the summer of 1854 he visited London for the purpose
of obtaining the best medical advice as to his condition and
the means to be adopted for his cure, and in proceeding thence
to the Conference at Birmingham he had a fortunate escape
from a serious railway accident. To this he alludes in the fol-
lowing letter to one of his daughters.
"Wyddrington, July 31, 1854.
"My dear Sarah,-Wednesday, after seeing the Doctors, I spent with
Fanny and Susan. In the evening on my way to King Street I called on
and saw Mrs. Owen. I had resolved to come this morning by the quarter
past six train; but Mrs. Randall dissuaded me from so doing and it was
well, for on arriving at Birmingham by the ten o'clock train, I found
that the 6·15 train met with a melancholy accident near Birmingham.
Two persons were killed and many seriously hurt and shaken and I am
thankful for my deliverance. I left London at ten and reached this place
before two.
'It is perhaps better that I have come-I can have baths here in the
house, and all medical attendance of the first order, and every facility
and appliance in my gouty condition. On Thursday there was nothing
but routine business, and I was persuaded not to go thither, but had
instead a ride in the carriage with Mrs. R. and her brother. On Friday
morning I went to Conference. The business was the 'Characters;'
nothing special occurred and the Conference is likely, I am glad to say, to
be smooth enough. I did not go down to the evening sitting, as I felt it
would be unwise in me to do so.
"I preached last night to a full chapel including several preachers,
but am no better to-day for having done so. My hands present a larger
appearance and show more of gout than hitherto, nor are my knees any
stronger.
"My reluctance to move in seeking my removal from Hull increases
rather than otherwise, though it has occurred to me whether an ap-
pointment to Weston-super-mare might not for a year be a safe measure.
If money were no object I should probably deem it best upon the whole
to ask to be made a supernumerary for a year, but I cannot afford to do
However let us not be too anxious or too desponding-my concern
is on your account.
So.
I feel no great readiness in leaving the west. The country is agree-
able to me yet there, as I have already said, I have been overtaken with
rheumatic gout. I am, my dear Sarah,
"Your affectionate father,
1
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
363
It was indeed most fortunate that he was not exposed to
the dangers of the accident here mentioned, for now that it is
known that at that period his heart was terribly diseased, it
appears extremely probable that, even had he not been maimed
by the collision which occurred, the shock upon his nervous
system might have produced immediately fatal results. A few
days after the last date he writes, in a family letter to his se-
cond son :-
"This evening I go to Warrington, to preach the anniversary sermons
of its chapel. It is now forty-one years since I first received an appoint-
ment from the Methodist Conference, and it was to Warrington that I
went, a young preacher, and there I laboured two years.* And now I can-
not but wonder and feel grateful emotion that for more than forty years
I have been continued in an unbroken ministry of no ordinary labour
and severity; and instead of repining that I am now diminished in my
activity by my present affliction, I ought to feel astonished that one who
appeared forty years ago such a feeble stripling, has been enabled to
maintain a career of more than ordinary toil, and I may perhaps say
success. I am now sixty years old, and to be overtaken with infirmities
is but natural-still I may hope for recovery."
TO HIS DAUGHTER, MRS. MILNE.
66
Manchester, 14th August, 1854.
My dear Fanny,-On Friday I left Birmingham and preached after-
noon and evening at Cromford, close to Matlock. On Saturday I visited
Mr. Smedley's establishment, near Matlock, for the cure of rheumatic
gout. The result of my interview is that I have concluded to go there
to-morrow morning and to remain for the benefit of his treatment until
Saturday, when I hope to return to. Bristol. I still need help for, after
following Dr. T.'s prescription and advice since I saw him, and taking
hot baths every other night, I am not better, my lameness is not abated
and my hands are more affected than ever.
"I preached in Grosvenor Street Chapel twice yesterday for the Sunday
schools. It was very wet all day, especially at night; but the morn-
ing congregation was very large and at night the chapel was crowded to
excess. Farquhar and his wife saw me in the vestry after service and I
have been to see them this morning.
"When I was in Cambridgeshire the other day I saw the tomb of a
* This remark affords the opportunity of mentioning a fact which was
omitted in its proper place and which has interest, viz., that on this Dr.
Beaumont's first circuit, amongst the many who were brought into the
church by his agency was the Rev. R. Moffat, the distinguished South
African Missionary.
364
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
woman who, a hundred and fifty years ago, was buried in the snow for a
fortnight or thereabouts (in the interval she heard the church bells on two
Sundays) she had some brandy with her and that would aid in sustaining
life, but she must have been in good condition to feed upon herself so
long!
I hope you are coming on well. I know not whether Sarah and
Susan are still with you, as I have not heard from either for some time.
With love to all, I am, my dear Fanny,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In another letter he describes the treatment adopted at
the hydropathic establishment at Lea Mills, near Matlock,
which he here mentions his intention to visit, and to which
he resorted after the Conference, though for a very short
time only, having been most strongly urged to do so by a
friend-
Well, the first day I came I had before dinner a hot bath and a
wash-down.' At night my body was swathed in a wet sheet or roller,
which I wore until morning, and my feet and ankles were fomented and
packed.' I am afraid I have not time now to explain this packing. The
feet and ankles were first fomented, then had a spungeoŝo (something or
other) applied, then that was wrapped round with wet clothes and all
tied up. On Wednesday morning I was visited by the bath-man, and the
same wet-sheeting of the body and fomenting and packing of the knees
was repeated—the ankles I begged off and craved their liberty. In the
forenoon I had a vapour bath and then a 'wash-down.' The night pro-
cess was repeated on going to bed. Yesterday at eleven I had my legs
and knees in a steam bath. At four the same. At night as before, and
yesterday morning on rising I had the dripping sheet' over me and then a
'wash down.' This morning the morning doses were all repeated, in-
cluding the dripping sheet.' This forenoon I was packed.' A wet
sheet was laid on a hard bed, I lay thereon, it was tucked, packed all
about me from my feet up to my throat, my arms down, my head was
wrapped round with a wet cloth, and so I was unable to move. Thus I
was left for an hour, with a bed and mattrass upon me. I suffered much
pain and longed for release."
In another letter he says (writing from Bath) :—
On Wednesday I went down to Bath and saw Dr. B. upon the pro-
bable effects of my taking the waters there for a short time. As soon as
he saw me he said, ‘You are a wreck!' He inquired about the state of my
heart, examined it repeatedly, said it had irregular action, and was
much overworked. He said that I must go over for a few days, during
which he would watch me, and then and not till then he could say whether
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
365
Bath with its waters was the place for me just now, and I intend to go on
Monday. I had expected to have closed my ministry here on Sunday
next, but the good folk of King Street Chapel, which has been shut up
for some weeks, have pressed me, though I had previously refused, into pro-
mising to reopen it on the 3rd. I have applied since to beg off, and just
now hardly know whether I shall be obliged to preach here on the 3rd or
not."
The warning given by the medical gentleman here al-
luded to was the only intimation, either distinct or covert,
from any of the numerous and distinguished members of
the faculty whom he consulted, which Dr. Beaumont or
his family ever received of the malady which was really
consuming his life. Unfortunately-certainly so for the feel-
ings of those most near to him, possibly so with reference to
the event-the intimation thus given of the seat of disease
was almost immediately neutralised by the complete retracta-
tion (on further observation of the invalid) by the gentleman
who had given it of the opinion which he had expressed.
Consequently every one about him was again utterly and com-
pletely in the dark-and worse than in the dark, for they were
misled by its apparent nature-as to the true nature of his
malady. Henceforth the idea of heart disease was banished
and never named or even thought of by himself or any other
person.
So extremely distasteful to him (ever full as he was of con-
siderateness) was the idea of being dependent even on his own
family or burdening any with cares on his account, so little
did it occur to those about him that any fatal issue was de-
pending on his infirmities, and so little did it appear could be
done to relieve him beyond the pursuit by himself of proper
medical regimen, that his family were fearful of pressing upon
him unavailing attendance or treating him as an invalid fur-
ther than could be done unobservedly in the domestic circle,
and by taking every opportunity to urge him to relax his
exertions and to adopt the course by which recovery from his
rheumatic affection might be secured. He was very sensitive
about his infirmities and, though sympathy was to him espe-
cially grateful and ever received with the most gracious
acknowledgments, those who knew him felt all the more
anxious not to let it assume a form which should affect his
mind with a painful sense of his infirm condition. His knees
4
366
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
were now so much stiffened and weakened as to render the ascent
of stairs, except in the infantine mode of resting both feet on
every step, all but impossible; but long after this time, and
indeed up to his last days, so unwilling was he to let this
appear that he was accustomed to ascend the pulpit stairs in
the ordinary way and with a buoyant step, although to do
so must have cost him a violent effort. Indeed in his
own family he was often observed to change some position
which he had assumed as a relief for an ordinary attitude
which indicated no infirmity. This sensitiveness and the
consequent habits arose entirely from his desire to avoid ex-
citing painful feelings in the minds of others.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
367
j
5.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CLOSE OF LIFE.
It was with many regrets that Dr. Beaumont departed
from the last place where it was decreed that he should possess
the inestimable blessing of even a moderate measure of health,
or should conclude his appointed term. Not only was the
future overcast with heavy clouds, but he was attached by
many warm sentiments to Bristol and its inhabitants.
Painful indeed had he found the contemplation of the con-
dition of Wesleyanism there-yet "Sorrow is a truer mistress
than Beauty," says a Spanish proverb, and certainly a church
in adversity had not less to call forth his sympathy than one
in prosperity. He had dear friends there whom he valued and
(though these indeed he had in most places and certainly had
in Hull) it was not easy for him to sever from them. The
neighbouring country, full of varied beauties, the very garden
of England, diversified with every outline and every effect
which landscape can display, had a very strong, and (as is
always the case with the beauties of nature, in their relation
to an observant mind and a sensitive heart) an increasing
influence over him. And he had been happy there, happy at
what appeared at the time a critical period of his life, when he
was on the verge of the sixth age, when he was threatened by
the cold hand of death or by the far worse fate of prolonged
and possibly extreme physical infirmity, and when his
domestic circumstances were rapidly changing. The very
conditions which have been alluded to as having cast a sort
of shade on his Bristol residence had only overshadowed it
in such sort as to make the real beauty and brightness and
warmth of his character appear more complete and harmonious
368
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
and impressive. No times are so fully happy, it may be, to
just and well-balanced minds as those when the feelings are
calmed and modulated by the influence which such circum-
stances exert. Certain it was-explain it how one may-
that while their influence did operate thus, at no period was
Dr. Beaumont more full of the deepest calm and happiness in
his inner life than during these years. There was evident in
his countenance, in his conversation, in all his actions a sort
of setting radiance gilding the clouds of his last days; and
truly, though its strain was somewhat plaintive, his life was
"like a melody
That's sweetly played in tune."
There was attached to his house at Bristol a little garden.
It certainly was not more indebted to nature than other urban
gardens, and it was much less indebted to art than it might
have been. He did not over-estimate its merits, but used
often pleasantly to banter his wife, who assumed the respon-
sibility of managing that part of his possessions, on the ill
success of her task, which its forlorn condition proclaimed.
In this "little spot of earth," however, he would, when at
home frequently saunter for a long time with a book or a ser-
mon in his hand, but often with his mind absorbed in reflections
foreign to the study, though appropriate to the garden; and
as he walked he hummed those indescribable airs of which
every happy man who has music in his soul may claim to be
a fertile improvisatore. It was very evident moreover that
the proximity of Bristol to Kingswood, gave him enjoy-
ment. His repeated visits to the deserted school and the
familiar neighbouring scenes afforded him a vivid and endur-
ing pleasure, tinged with a glow of melancholy which only
enhanced its brightness. No wonder then that he left Bristol
with regret.
But, if his thoughts "clung to the mouldering past" and
the future seemed mysterious and beclouded, he still felt a firm
confidence that "behind the clouds was the sun still shin-
ing." His whole spirit, intense and elevated as it was ever,
seemed in these last months of his life to be intensified and
to soar above its accustomed level to dwell in a more etherial
atmosphere. The solemn and earnest manner which charac-
terised his conduct of the service of God became more and
F
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
369
$
more striking to the many persons who heard him, either in
public assemblies or in more limited circles, discourse on the
Gospel themes or offer to Heaven his supplications. It was
during this period remarked by many that he seemed almost
inspired, so lofty, earnest, serene and devoted was his spirit.
His often manifested sensitiveness to sorrow proved that he
was not one who interpreted indifference as a high Christian
virtue, yet the peace and the placidity and the trustfulness in
God which he always displayed were now developed so as to
produce the perfect work of Christian resignation-not that
he was careless about the things of time, but that he was con-
fident and hopeful as to the eternity to which the putting off
his mortal coil would usher him. His ever active good will
and devotion to the cause of God and of his fellow men, per-
haps now more deeply and constantly than ever, pervaded and
commanded his whole soul and strength and spirit. Nor were
his interest in his friends and his affection and solicitude for
his family ever more lively and ardent, if indeed the attentions
and expressions by which they were evinced were ever even
equally assiduous and tender. In short it might seem as if
hitherto all the noble and attractive features which he dis-
played had arisen simply from the sanctified efflorescence of
his intellect and love, his devotion and energy, but that now
he dived into the very recesses of his being and, obtaining
a double measure of the Divine Spirit, produced the finished
works of his soul so that his last offerings both to mankind
and his Master might be his best, and might form a fitting
crown to his devoted career.
It was not the case that these perfect and beautiful mani-
festations of the higher feelings and powers of Dr. Beaumont's
nature implied the diminution from it of those gentler and
slighter graces which are of no unimportant value to the
individual or the race, and which were never more abundantly
displayed by him than in conjunction with the chastened and
elevated sanctity apparent in these last gloaming days. His
interest in public affairs and his warm love of every form of
beauty (the one the prose, the other the poetry of life) were so
constantly active as to maintain the harmony of his character.
In the family gathering about his hearth which occurred at
the last Christmas of his life he was full of life and enjoyment,
B B
370
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
his laugh was never more cheery or mellow, his courteous-
ness and considerateness never were more exquisite than on
this the last occasion when he was allowed to wish a "merry
Christmas," and himself to make it so.
On leaving Bristol he determined to devote a few weeks'to
health seeking. There can be no doubt that this period
should have been much extended, and its extension would
probably have prolonged his life; but it was vain to urge him
on this point, and it has been repeatedly said that his friends
were ignorant of its vital importance. He was the more
unwilling to prolong his retirement, as to do so seemed to
him to involve the necessity of withdrawing from the active
ministry and at least a temporary enrolment in the ranks of
what are called " Supernumerary Preachers," for he would not
willingly have entered upon a year with a new society in an
active position, the duties of which he did not mean to fulfil.
Apart from other objections to his becoming a supernumerary
it was to him a sufficient one (in the ignorance in which un-
fortunately he and all about him were of his actual state) that
it would involve the loss of his professional income which,
however trifling in itself, was of importance to one whose re-
sources were so few and whose obligations were so numerous
as were his. The efficient performance of these obligations he
considered second only to the primary object of restoring his
health, and this he hoped to effect by a less complete change
of his position.
After considerable hesitation it was determined somewhat
suddenly that he should proceed to Wiesbaden, there to lay
out his small stock of time to the best advantage. Although
he was thus at last persuaded to secure some relaxation, he
continued in his full work up to within a few days of leaving
England. Those few days he spent full of happiness with
his eldest daughter and grandchildren and some other mem-
bers of his family in London. While under his daughter's roof
he said repeatedly that he did not feel at all inclined to move
and should be very happy to remain where he was, but he sup-
posed he ought to go in search of health; and, after carefully
weighing the merits of various watering places, he determined
on his pilgrimage to the Brunnens. He left London alone, as
his route was so arranged that he anticipated meeting at Ghent
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
371
with the writer (who was at the time about returning through
Belgium from the continent by a route with which his father
was acquainted, but who had not himself any intimation of
the proposed journey), in which case the son would have had
the good fortune of accompanying him and it may be would
have afforded him some solace and assistance in his foreign
sojourn. An unfortunate chance frustrated this intention,
and Dr. Beaumont proceeded alone direct to Wiesbaden
where he was fortunate enough to locate himself at the really
comfortable Englischer hof, the worthy landlord of which Sir
Francis Head has celebrated as the kindest and most hospi-
table of hosts in whose care an invalid can find himself.
Thence he wrote as follows to his wife*:-
"My dear Susan,
English Hotel, Wiesbaden, Sept. 12th, 1854.
*
“As I said, I left London early on Saturday morning, and arrived at
Ostend at three. I suppose the passage was considered good, though not
very quick, but still I could not bear to be up at all-when I left the
horizontal posture I was ill (vulgarly 'sick') directly. So I lay very
much as a log of wood does, except that I had motion and some kind of
consciousness. At Ostend I dined at the table d'hôte, and found myself
out of England. Being ordered by all whom I have consulted to take
sherry, I asked if I could have some. It was produced, not good-looking,
and on pouring it into a tumbler of water the whole was turned muddy
and bad tasted. So I closed with wine!
"I proceeded the same evening by rail to Ghent, a large, fine town,
and on Sabbath morning I visited most of its churches with its noble
cathedral. They were filled-all of them filled-and as buildings they
* It was with much regret that his family allowed him to proceed alone
to Germany, but he was indisposed to take with him any of the ladies of
the family, and none of his friends conceived at the time that there was
any occasion for the presence of a companion in any capacity other than a
merely social one, and consequently they never pressed upon him to take
one. He was always, it has been seen, most unwilling to expose others to
what he fancied would subject them to inconvenience (however much they
might really desire to assist him, and so pleasure themselves); and he
thought that, unless a family party could be formed, a lady would not be
happily situated in a foreign country with an invalid for her only com-
panion, who could not with freedom accompany her in the occupations
which ordinarily make up the pleasantness of such a sojourn. This co-
operated with certain domestic reasons to make him rely for companion-
ship only on meeting with his son.
::
372
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
are all fine. The assemblies in them seemed most orderly, not to say
devout; but, outside, at the same time business was going on in some of
the streets, and the shops were mostly open. Still all seemed quiet and
good-humoured.
"At the Hotel Poste there I was charged a franc more for my dinner
because I took no wine-if you take it you pay for it, and if you do not
you pay for not taking it. I got to Aix-la-Chapelle on Monday morning
just in time for the steamer up the Rhine to Cologne. I should, when at
Ghent, very much have liked to have turned aside to see Brussels and to
visit Antwerp. So it would have much gratified me to have remained at
least for a few hours at Aix-la-Chapelle. But I have not suffered anything
to turn me aside for an hour from my purpose, slowly but at length formed,
of seeking, if the Lord will, restoration by the use of the baths at this
place. The day up the Rhine yesterday was fine, and much I enjoyed
the scene. At eight we reached Coblentz, and there the boat stayed during
the night, and I slept at an hotel in the town near it. At half-past five
this morning we were to have started; when I was on board, but there
was a very thick fog so that they could not venture forth until six; at
three we reached Mayence, and thence I came on by rail to Wiesbaden.
Letters may be addressed-I mean family letters-to me at this hotel for
the present, and an abstract of all others or such as require attention.
This is a moderate, comfortable house and they have baths in the house,
and to-morrow morning I commence.
66
Love to Mary and Susan. I remain
"Yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."-
In the following passage from a letter which was addressed
to Mr. Collins, an active member of the Wesleyan society at
Bristol, he referred to the last sermons which he preached in
that city a few days before leaving England :-
"I cannot despatch my first letter to my family without enclosing a
line to my Bristol friends to say that I reached this place this afternoon
at half-past six o'clock. I have come hither for the baths that are so
salutary in such cases as mine. Having failed in obtaining relief from
all previous attempts I felt it my duty to adopt the advice so strongly
urged upon me by many friends and by some of the faculty, and I
trust to the blessing of Almighty God that this method may prove advan-
tageous. Somehow or other that last day's service-I mean the Sabbath-
day's seems to have knit me more thoroughly to Bristol than I had felt
to be the case before. May rich blessings from our Father in heaven
descend upon you and the Methodist people!"
His "farewell" sermons, it has been mentioned, were al-
ways occasions of much interest, ordinarily of the most affect-
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
373
ing nature. His own heart was deeply moved at such times
and was frequently so full as to interrupt his power of pro-
ceeding with the service, for thoroughly he sympathised with
the moistened eyes of his audiences, and the warm and eager
greetings which at such times they addressed to him at
the close of the services-all sorts and conditions of men
pressing forward to touch his hand and express a regretful
adieu. The farewell at King Street Chapel in Bristol, as may
be supposed, had not a diminished interest, but the specialities
of his position rather gave a peculiar feeling and character to
the great crowd which gathered to hear his last words.
My dear Susan,-
TO HIS WIFE.
English Hotel, Wiesbaden, 20th September, 1854.
"It is too soon for me to speak of improvement. I drink the waters
every morning at seven, afterwards I bathe, remain three-quarters of an
hour in the water, and then dress and breakfast. Feeling somewhat dis-
couraged I yesterday morning called on a German doctor who says that
I should remain a month, but that, as the season is advancing, three
weeks may for the present serve, and of course that the waters here are
the best for rheumatic gout, which my trouble is. He says that I shall
not get rid of it altogether now, but that I must repeat my visit next
year and spend the month of July here. He seemed to be a sensible,
quiet, worthy sort of person, and when I asked what was his fee he mo-
destly replied, 'One florin and a half-which I paid him! If all other
charges were as reasonable all here might be pronounced cheap, though
indeed they are not extravagant.
'I have not seen a creature here whom I know, and lead a very mo-
notonous and humble sort of life here,-useless except it may secure me
health for future application.
"I went to the English church on Sunday and the tunes set to the
psalms, well-known ones, touched me all over in so strange and far-away
a sort of place as this. I shall probably be in Hull by the 15th or 22nd of
October.
"Love to all.
'I am yours affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
He had been duly cautioned not only against working but
against even thinking of his work while in search of health, and
he very fairly attended to these instructions. When he was leav-
374
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
ing London one of his daughters remonstrated with him for
packing up some sermons and would have prevented him from
doing so, but he replied that they were only some which he
had lately written, irregularly and in pencil, and he merely
proposed to copy them out. On his return his success in
this task was inquired after, and he answered, "To tell you
the truth, I never looked at them." He was not able how-
ever to abstain from thinking of and arranging his future
duties, it will be seen.
"
TO HIS DAUGHTER SUSAN.
"C
Wiesbaden, Sept. 25, 1854.
My dear Susan,-Mary has doubtless received the letter which I sent
I think last Thursday. The letter from Mr. Hardy you can answer by
stating that I shall probably be able to preach at Keighley about the end-
of November, and that on my return home, in two or three weeks' time
I shall write to him.
"The letter from Coningsby you had better answer at once in the
negative. I will write to Mr. Gabriel. I have now been here a fort-
night-every day of which I have had a bath and have freely drunk the
waters. But, to-day, I do not feel that I can affirm myself to have
derived any sensible benefit. My feeble knees are not strengthened, nor
have my hands yet got back their cunning. Perhaps I may have as great
a command of motion as I have experienced for some time. A month
is the time for such as I am to tarry here-though my doctor admitted that
three weeks, as the season is so far advanced, should suffice for the
present. The weather too is changing-the bright, hot summer is passing
away, and we are now tasting cold weather again. This afternoon we
have had showers, the only rain that has fallen here since I came except
another shower which fell perhaps a week ago.
"I have made no particular acquaintance since my arrival, though I
chat a little with one and another of the visitors. The company
departing, and bye and bye the winter visitors will be all that will remain
as foreign sojourners. Wiesbaden is dull enough except to those whose
tastes lead them to the gambling tables and ball-room and theatre, though
to those to whom money is no object, it is a good centre from which to
sally forth on visiting excursions to interesting places and scenery.
"I am truly a man of one business only at this place-an humble
applicant for the strengthening of a pair of weak hands and the con-
firming a pair of feeble knees. I shall probably continue in the same
diligent pursuit for another week, and then, if I shall find that I am
making no progress, take my departure. I hope to acquaint myself
with some of the places of interest on my return, which I passed
by coming, that I might have as much of the summer here as should
then be found to remain. And it was well that I so acted, for there is
a great difference in such a place and pursuit in genial and ungenial
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
375
weather. At present, however, I have no plan laid out. I am con-
sidering whether I might comply with an application from the City Road
Chapel on my way home-and if I get into London on a Saturday this
may be done.
"The (to me) tiresome monotony of this place was broken early on
Saturday morning by a fire which broke forth in and destroyed much of
some offices of administration. Six men were killed on the occasion,
and the widow of one of them has since died from the shock of her
anguish. A meeting of the English now resident here was held this
morning in the large room of the Rose Hotel, which I attended, and at
which I broke my fortnight's silence by moving that the thanks of the
meeting be presented to the chairman (the Marquis of Headfort) in a
little speech. My small means would not suffer me to give more than
the mite of three florins of money. Yesterday I went again to the
English church in the morning, and had a quiet, welcome service, where
again the good old melodies, hung round with so many precious
memories and rich with so many dear associations, opened all the sluices
of my feelings.
"In the afternoon I went to the Lutheran church, the service of which
was conducted in a language in which I am not learned. The con-
gregation consisted very much of women and children, there being
scarcely thirty men present! An apparently impressive sermon formed
part of it, but the audience was listless. I should have enjoyed a good
hearty Methodist service.
،،
'Wednesday evening, Sept. 27.
The other two slips I wrote on Monday, but they contain nothing—at
least nothing calling for an immediate despatch. I have delayed till to-
day to see whether anything might reach me from England requiring
notice and mention, but your letter was the last that I have received, and
the interval has been destitute of interest. The weather has taken up
again, and yesterday and to-day have been fine and somewhat warm. I
go through my 'horse-in-the-mill' daily round. My host assures me
that I shall be better, that I shall be well, that it is the baths which bring
out for the time the pain and difficulty of motion, and so on.
♪
*
"I do not expect to reach Hull until after the 15th of October. Love
to all.
"I am, my dear Susan,
"Your affectionate father,
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
'JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
Wiesbaden, Oct. 2, 1854.
'My dear Sarah,-I am getting weary of my sojourn here, and all the
more so from my use of it having failed to be attended with any material
improvement of my particular condition. I have now taken twenty
376
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
baths, a three weeks' application of the thermal waters of this famed
German spa, and have drunk them every morning also. Indeed the
doctor here whom I consulted did not advise me to go on bathing be-
yond September. This being the case, and seeing no probability that a
further continuance here now will prove in any respect advantageous, I
am leaving it to-day.
I get to Cologne to-morrow, to Brussels on Wednesday, to Antwerp
on Thursday, and, if I feel constrained to come to London for Sunday, I-
must get to Ostend on Friday, and come thence by boat (if there is one)
and arrive in town on Saturday. The packet paper which you gave me
does not go to October, and whether there is a boat, and at what time,
on Friday I do not know.
Yesterday was my third Sabbath in Wiesbaden, when I went to the
English church again and partook of the Sacrament. We had no
sermon on account of the Sacrament, but I was subdued as before
all through with the fine melodies sung to the psalms, and the impres-
sion upon me was altogether great, it being probably the last time
that I should unite in such solemnities with my fellow worshippers, at
least in this place. Thoughts of home, of your mother, yourself, your
sisters and brothers, of the congregations in which I had worshipped
and which I had led as minister, of my lonely severance from all my
dear relatives and known Christian friends, together with recollections of
my long continued indisposition and with the uncertainties of its issues
and bearings, all made my heart feel as if its cavities were too small for
the varied emotions and deep sensations which sought a home there.
But I have had a long and prosperous course as a servant of Christ and
a messenger of his great salvation and, were I never to preach again, I
have already occupied a large sphere and have fulfilled a great commis-
sion and have held fast the truth-and why should I be sad? This has
been a very fine day-the sun of nature having shone out beautifully,
pure emblem of the Sun of Righteousness, whose more gracious radiations
I have felt upon the soul.
"I wrote on Wednesday to Hull and may not write thither again for
some days, so that you can report to them the state of my affairs. If I
do not improve I must just try and do my work as I am, and wait and
hope for a more perfect state and condition.”
66
'My dear Susan,—
TO HIS WIFE.
Antwerp, Hotel du Parc, 7th Oct., 1854.
Having been at Wiesbaden fully three weeks, I quitted it on Tuesday
morning, came down the Rhine to Cologne, and passed on to Aix-la-Cha-
pelle, where I slept (that is was in bed three hours). I reached Brussels
on Wednesday about noon, left it yesterday afternoon at 4.30 and reached
+
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
377
Ly
Antwerp about six.
And now I have to decide what course
I shall take. I incline, upon the whole, to go on to Dover or Folkestone
and remain there a few days trying sea bathing in some form, which has
been recommended. I shall then get to London on Thursday or Friday,
and on to Liverpool on Saturday. I directed that a letter should be sent
to me from Liverpool, saying whether I am expected there on the 15th.
I directed that the letter should be addressed to me at Westbourne
Park Villas, London. Let that letter be opened, and then sent on to me,
addressed to me at the Post-office, Dover. Having another week gives
me an opportunity of visiting Paris but, however gratifying it would be
to me to do so, I am decided to forego it, because of the expense and be-
cause my condition requires that I should before all things seek the
removal of my present ills. Besides it is very likely that Mr. Litherland
will have left it before I can arrive there.
"I shall probably therefore remain here over to-day-to-morrow leave
it for Ostend. But as there is no packet to Dover on Saturday I may
call at Bruges and pass to-morrow night there, and reach Dover by
Monday morning.
“I am sorry that I cannot speak of improvement, however much I have
sought it. In so doing I have done right and the result I must leave
with Him who is excellent in counsel and wonderful in working. I can
not say that my spirits are elevated, though my trust is in the name of
the Lord who made heaven and earth.
"To save the first post I must close now.
"Love to Fanny, Sarah, Mr. Milne and the children.
"I am yours affectionately,
TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH.
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
"
Dover, 9th Oct., 1854.
'My dear Sarah,-I presume that my letter, despatched from Antwerp
on Friday, has duly reached Westbourne Park Villas.* I was very much
interested in Antwerp. Its churches are grand and enriched with innu-
merable works of art and beauty. The Museum also contains an exten-
sive and valuable assemblage of paintings, many by Reubens, some by
Vandyke and the Teniers..
On my way from Antwerp I called at Bruges and saw and admired
its cathedral and Notre Dame-both noble edifices and filled with matters
of interest. I saw also the church of the holy blood of Christ,' in which
is shown you a cabinet containing a crystal phial of that substance,
which is shown on Fridays to the people, who pass within a railing and
kiss it!
“There is a famous chimney-piece there too, in the Palais de Justice.
On the marble front is represented the judgment of Susanna, and it is
* The residence of his daughter.
878
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT,
|
also carved with life-size figures of Charles, of Maximilian and other im
perial personages-all the work of one man that was imprisoned.
"I crossed over last night from Ostend and reached Dover before twelve.
It was a beautiful night-calm, moonlight and pleasant, and I escaped
all disquietude. I slept at the Dover Castle, and this morning called on
Mr. Flashman. He would have me come here altogether, where I am
quite comfortable. I had a tepid sea-water shower bath this forenoon,
and shall repeat some form of sea-bathing daily whilst I remain. I have
had no letter to-day--but perhaps to-morrow will bring me one. If I have
to go to Liverpool for Sunday I must take the course which I mentioned
in
my letter of Friday-if otherwise, I may remain here or hereabouts
for a week. But all this is uncertain-I feel myself happy amongst old
friends again whose society is cheerful and complete. I did not go to
Paris because I was alone, because it would not have aided my recovery,
because I hoped to go there at a future time perhaps accompanied by
yourself and others of my family, and because I have had sight seeing
sufficient already for once.
"Your mother has, I suppose, returned to Hull, from which you, Tommy
and I are all that are absent. Fanny and her young ones are I hope all
flourishing and Mr. Milne I trust is progressing in health. My love to
them all. I am, my dear Sarah,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
As no improvement was perceptible as the result of his short
visit to Wiesbaden he was strongly urged by his family to
comply with the request of his friends at Dover to prolong his.
stay amongst them, and at all events not to think of resum-
ing his labours for some time; and, feeling himself that he
ought to yield to this advice and to search for health in every
way, he determined to remain on the south-east coast for a
few weeks. He was however compelled to leave it for some
days to fulfil an important preaching engagement at Liver-
pool. This was an engagement which he had annually
undertaken for the schools connected with Brunswick chapel
in that town, and therefore one which he was particularly loth
to break off from; and, as the sermens had been postponed
to suit his convenience, he yielded to the call which was thus
made upon him.
TO HIS DAUGHTER MARY.
""
London, 17th October, 1854.
"My dear Mary,-I got through at Liverpool in the morning with
some timidity and weakness, with a diminution of force and restraint of
manner. In the evening I got my voice and preached with freedom and
power. The congregations were vast, at night overflowing. Yesterday
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
379
I returned to London, and to-day have baptized Ellen Florence Walterina
and Leila Mary Rachel,* and this solemnity is over and the long and
fancily named young ladies are now I believe at roost for the night. I
am returning to-morrow to Dover, and letters will find me addressed for
the present at Mr. Flashman's. I am deriving some benefit there
from the sea-water shower-bath which I am regularly taking and from
the air; and this being the case, I am minded to prolong my stay there
until the end of the month, provided Mr. Cox can continue his good
service for me so long. I am in tolerable health, apart from my rheu
matism, and that, I trust, is at length giving way.
“I am happy that you have been so right royally favoured at Hull in
Her Majesty's visit. Susan's letters followed me thence hither. Love to
Joseph, Susan and John. I am
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
In some of his family letters of this time Dr. Beaumont
alludes to various deaths which had occurred amongst his
friends in a thoughtful, impressive manner. In one he writes—
"You will have heard no doubt of the death of Mr. D. and
of Mr. R. S. Indeed I feel quite affected with the deaths of
many of my friends. But why should we be surprised at
such events when we are born to die?"
During his absence from Hull his place had been zealously
and efficiently supplied by the Rev. Mr. Cox; and his friends
impressed on him earnestly the desirableness of securing the
continuance of this aid as long as possible, in order to relieve -
him from the full pressure of his work, for which indeed he felt
himself unfit. The following letters to Mr. Cox evince the
value he placed on the services of that gentleman, and illus-
trate his consideration for the interests of others.
"Dover, 31st October, 1854.
My dear Sir, I have just received yours of the 30th, and, to save
this post, I must satisfy myself with a brief reply.
"And first of all let me thank you for the acceptable service which you
have, in my absence and on account of my indisposition, rendered in the
Hull West Circuit. It has been a relief in my affliction to know that the
circuit was so well supplied.
"But you rather alarm me when you put into words that 'I intend to
enter upon its duties on Sunday, November the 12th.' I have intimated
to Mr. Lomas my purpose to be in Hull by that day; but, though I have
been improving in my health in some measure, I feel timidity as to any
fitness to fulfil the duties of the circuit, and on this account it would
*Two of the Doctor's grandchildren.
380
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
be agreeable to me if you remained in Hull a week or two after my
arrival there. But I can scarcely request you to do so if your own interests
will be better met by your leaving it before the 12th-these are to be
considered as well as mine. In this state of things I do not feel that I
can communicate with the President upon the matter. Perhaps I may
write again to you to-morrow, when I have had a little time to consider
your application. If you prefer to leave Hull next week I shall acquiesce
in the proceeding, and must trust for strength or help.
"I thank you for your kind expressions and sentiments and shall be
happy if in any way I can have an opportunity of promoting your wishes
and welfare.
"I am, my dear sir,
“Yours affectionately,
TO THE SAME.
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
·
"Dover, 2nd Nov., 1854.
My dear Sir,-The evening before last I wrote you a hurried reply to
your inquiry, but I know not on reflection that I can communicate any-
thing additional to that reply. I am writing to the President in compliance
with your desire, and I am conveying to him in substance what I have
addressed to yourself. If you think it will prove best for you to consider
yourself at liberty from the circuit in which you have been so kindly and
acceptably labouring in my place, I do not know that I can object to such
a course except upon the ground alleged in my note; and, absent from
Hull and with but an imperfect knowledge of the duties of the circuit, I
feel unwilling to go further in any reference to the future.
((
Happy shall I be to find that your temporary service at Hull shall
have forwarded your ministerial course and prospects. May they be as
the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day! I
am, my dear sir,
"Yours affectionately,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
TO HIS DAUGHTER SUSAN.
((
Dover, Nov. 1st., 1854.
My dear Susan,-You will learn that I am remaining here until next
week, this day week as I suppose. The good people are very anxious to
keep me here two or three weeks longer, but I do not consider that I am
now making any real progress in recovery as to my lameness, and the
winter is coming and I am rather of opinion that I may as well at once
try how far I am equal to circuit work. The doctors here, as those else-
where, insist that I should rest six months and that if I do not I shall
not get rid of my rheumatic gout, from which I am not yet set free. And,
if after a trial of a few weeks I find my incompetency, I must take steps
accordingly.
.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
381
ሻ
"The kindness that I meet with and am receiving here has quite taken
me by surprise.
"I trust to reach Hull on Friday, Nov. 10th., all being well. Indeed
I think it better to come now however far from being well I may
be, for gout is not cleared yet from my hands, nor rheumatism from my
knees.
"Mr. Rees says that the Comte de Villiers has been seen in Dover this
week-to-morrow he will find out whether the Comtesse and he are here
now, and if they are I shall probably trace them out. I have not made
up my mind yet as to spending a part of my remaining time at Folke-
stone. I do not like it so well as Dover, and the people are throwing so
many cords around me here that I deem it problematical whether I shall
break away from them.
"To-day Mr. Rees drove me to Deal, my purpose being to call upon
Mr. Betts, who resides there now. After I had my bath we set off, but
the morning was exceedingly foggy and the whole scene was enshrouded.
As we were passing through Walmer the day brightened and, while in
Deal, the sun shone out for an hour, the horizon was revealed and I saw
the Downs,' which appeared beautiful indeed with the multitudinous
shipping on its bosom. We left Deal at half-past four and found our-
selves again in a dense fog, and reached home an hour ago.
"Love to all.
"Your affectionate father,
“JOSEPH BEAUMONT.",
TO HIS SON JOHN.
፡፡
Dover, 3rd Nov., 1854.
My dear John, I have received Susan's and Mary's letters yesterday
and to-day.
Yesterday we had a fog again here, but this day has been bright and
clear and I have been driven by Mr. Rees to Walmer Castle and have
seen 'the Duke's' bedroom in which he died, his favourite walks and the
gardens which abound in the finest evergreens. The beautiful lawns and
flowers are now somewhat neglected, there being at present but two gar-
deners instead of four. On making application I was informed that the
Castle could not be seen, as the Duke of Buccleuch's family were in it.
I requested the servant to take my card in and to present my compli-
ments, and he returned with answer that I might see the room in which
the Duke died and the gardens, and that the family would be away on
Monday when I might see the rest. I had permission thus to see all
that I desired, and came home much gratified. To-morrow Mr. Rees
will drive me over to Folkestone and whether I shall remain at Mr.
Garstang's or return with him must remain an open question at present.
382
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
{
The fact is that I have not stayed half long enough to satisfy the cravings
of friends at Folkestone and at Dover, but this day week, God willing, I
trust to see you all. As to the state of my health, it admits of much more
improvement, which may yet be realised.
“Love to your brother and sisters.—I am, my dear John,
"Your affectionate father,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
This visit to Dover and Folkestone was rendered by the
kindness of his thoughtful and affectionate friends there
extremely pleasant, and to some small extent advantageous
to Dr. Beaumont. Their constant attentions will ever be
remembered by his family, nor will those days or the beauties
of his character which he displayed during his sojourn in
Kent be easily forgotten by those amongst. whom his time
was passed. Day by day he used to walk about on the
beach, and would stand for long watching the sea as it broke
with its majestic beat upon the stone groins which at Dover
protects it. Daily he pursued the appointed curative routine
sedulously and anxiously, but patiently, cheerfully and with
a perfect faith in the kindness of the Disposer of the issues
of life and death. He was ever most happy in the society of his
friends, and as usual tried as much as possible to relieve them
from anxiety on his account and to add to their pleasure in
every way. Nor was he entirely free from public labours.
In several instances he yielded to the requests which were
addressed to him to preach and speak in Dover and the
neighbourhood-though perhaps to say that he yielded hardly
gives a correct impression, as his friends were so consi-
derate for his health that their requests were suggested rather
than preferred. In one instance he had promised to speak at
a Missionary meeting at a little place called Limnige, a few
miles from Dover, but when the appointed time arrived his
friends at Dover recommended him not to go, as the place
was very small and he seemed unfit for the labour; but
he replied, "Oh no, I shan't abandon it because it's a small
place--it would only be the greater disappointment."
Leaving Dover, he spent two or three days with those
members of his family who were in London. The writer
remembers a little circumstance connected with this visit
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
383
which, though trivial in itself, impresses itself strongly on his
own mind as one of the last exhibitions of his father's almost
womanly tenderness his "manhood fused with female
grace." They had together spent the evening before the
Doctor's departure at the house of some old friends and had
only separated very late at night. The writer then bade his
father "Good-bye," as the latter intended to proceed at an
early hour in the morning from his daughter's house (where he
was staying) to his own home. It was therefore deeply touch-
ing when he made an unexpected appearance in the morning
at his son's chambers-mounting a long flight of stairs (to
him a work of great toil and pain) merely to say one more
"adieu," and descending again to proceed to the railway
station without more than a moment's interview.
From London he proceeded to settle in his home at Hull.
Here he received from his colleagues and his people the most
hearty welcome, and from every one the utmost consideration
and sympathy which it was possible for them to afford in
every particular. His fellow ministers, the Reverend Messrs.
Lomas and Hargreaves, and his coadjutor Mr. Cox so long as
he remained in that capacity, were most desirous that he
should spare himself as much as possible, and themselves
volunteered to relieve him of his work to a greater extent
than he would permit. For a few weeks Mr. Cox continued
to take part of his public duties, but at the end of that
time he determined himself to undertake the entire amount
of his circuit labours. To this he almost immediately added
extra duty in Hull and the neighbourhood, and he entered
into a series of engagements with various places throughout
the country for the early part of the year 1855, but few of
which he was permitted to fulfil.
He was as delighted to find himself amidst his family as
they were to receive him, and the ministerial duties which he
now undertook were to him as welcome as his presence
amongst his people was to them. These last few weeks of his
life were indeed remarkable weeks. What has been said of
the perfecting of his character throughout his illness was
emphatically observable at this time. In his everyday life
there was an indescribable something which was felt in a
marked manner by all who met him, but the whole beauty of
+
$
384
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
which only those who lived with him saw. He was very,
very ill and infirm, suffered much pain, was restricted in his
ordinary duties and pursuits, but not only did there never
escape from him a hasty word or tone, or a look clouded
otherwise than as passing pain might cloud it, but his coun-
tenance, his voice, his every ordinary word had an unmis-
takeable expression that was brighter and better than can be
looked for in ordinary life. He was full of solicitude for
himself and for his family, but so tempered was his mind
that the current of his cheerfulness was not clouded by this,
but was full and placid, flowing ample and undisturbed. At
Christmas, when his family gathered about him, they alone
seemed sensitive to the depressing effect of his illness-nay,
impressive as his manner was, he was at that time not only
singularly tender and gentle but his lightsomeness was remark-
able. The illness of the past few months had aged him in
appearance full fifteen years; he could not rise from his chair
without repeated efforts, and the pain which he suffered
was often extreme; yet in the last weeks of his life he fre-
quently was heard singing to himself, when alone or when
moving about his house, and his laugh and his humour
was ever ready and pleasant. One of the grandchildren
who surrounded his hearth at Christmas was a little girl—
méchante, coquette and somewhat shy withal, whose peculiar
pleasure it seemed to "draw out" her grandpapa and make
him ooax and banter her into good humour and acquies-
cence; and pleasant was it to see the patience, skill and
keen sense of her "fun" with which he managed the little
damsel. The practice of music in his family always afforded
him much enjoyment, but he never took more interest in
it or more pleasure in the domestic concerts of the even-
ing than at this time. On one of his very last nights he was
particularly attracted by some pieces which were played
and sung to him for the first time with one of these of a
humorous kind he was much amused and in others he took
a deeper interest. He seemed to find greater pleasure than
ever in the family habit of passing the Sunday evenings after
his work was over, which he always expected to be mainly
occupied with playing and singing selections from the great
works of sacred music or favourite hymns and chants.
.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
385
His thoughts were evidently directed during his last days
in a manner special and interesting towards the subject of
death. It is not intended by this to intimate that he had any
presentiment of his approaching end, for it is not believed
that anything of the kind was in the least present to him,
but
on the other hand he looked forward to a tardy recovery from
his rheumatism, which was, as all conceived, his only malady.
The writer on one occasion, when conversing with him a few
days before his decease on the tragic accounts which were re-
ceived from the Crimea at the end of 1854, alluded to the
details as to the careless sepulture of the dead in the British
camp, observing that "the body of a soldier who had died for
his country seemed a sacred object." To this he replied, "It
certainly ought to be sacred-a soldier's is the only death in
modern times which partakes of the character of the ancient
sacrifices." It will be seen that death formed the topic of several
of his last sermons and amongst the notes made by him within
the last few days of his life, and which lay loose on his desk
when he died, were the two following extracts which evince
the same reflectiveness on that solemn change. These pas-
sages are inserted from his notes as they were found at his
decease, and it is thought that, as embodying some of his last
thoughts, they cannot but be interesting to many readers. They
are two of the most beautiful sentences of that great but mis-
directed genius, Lord Byron, extracted from a volume of his
letters which the Doctor happened to look into shortly before
his death, and they both allude very elegantly to the same
touching idea.
"I found such a pretty epitaph in the Certosa Cemetery; or rather
two. One was—
"The other-
“‘Martini Luigi Implora pace.'
"Lucrezia Picini
*Implora eterna quiete.'
"That was all; but it appears to me that these two and three words
comprise and compress all that can be said on this subject, and then in
Italian they are absolute music. They contain hope and humility;
nothing can be more pathetic than the implora and the modesty of the
request; they have had enough of life-they want nothing but rest—
с с
ૐ
ཅ、
386
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
they implore it and 'eterna quiete.' It is like a Greek inscription in
some good old heathen 'city of the dead.' I never met with any, ancient
or modern, that pleased me a tenth part so much."
"(To Mr. Hoppner.) Can anything be more full of pathos? Those
few words say all that can be said or sought. There is all the helpless-
ness and humble hope and deathlike prayer that can arise from the
grave-' implora pace! See those two words and no more put over me."
Whatever was the exact sense in which Lord Byron inter-
preted quiet and rest, Dr. Beaumont attached to these tender
phrases the true Christian sentiments which they originally
embodied.
On another scrap are these words, evidently copied with re-
ference to the transitoriness of human joys, "A very beautiful
couplet in Burns:-
Or, as the snow falls in the river-
A moment white, then gone for ever.'
997
In like manner were found amongst his last memoranda
several epitaphs and devout contemplations and observa-
tions of his own upon the nature of death, possibly written
for insertion in a sermon or possibly merely the outbursts of
his own feelings, but they are mostly so slightly noted as to
be mere reminders for his own thought and are therefore
unsuited for publication.
Amongst the letters written by him in the last few weeks
of his life are two which are subjoined; the second of these,
though in itself very slight, has a special interest about it as
it was written a very few days before his death in answer to
some kind inquiries after his health.
TO W. COOPER, ESQ.
"47, Neville Street, Hull, Dec. 22nd, 1854.
'My dear Sir,-Your letter, which arrived whilst I was abroad in
search of health, I believe has never yet been answered. On releasing
myself from Bristol I proceeded to Germany, and remained several
weeks at Wiesbaden trying the virtue of its celebrated waters. But,
though I persisted in bathing daily and drinking the waters during the
whole of my stay, I left without perceiving that I had derived any
advantage from my visit. On returning to England I remained more
than a month on its south-east coast, and was benefited by tepid sea-
water shower-baths at Dover and Folkestone.
↓
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
387
F
"I have been in Hull now about a month, but am still suffering from
my rheumatic gout, brought on according to Sir B. Brodie by labour of
mind. My health keeps pretty good, and I am getting into work again,
though with feeble knees. Here my congregations are large-very large ;-
and if it shall please God to favour me with strength again I shall be
happy, and if otherwise, not miserable.
"I am yours sincerely,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
66
TO THE REV. J. G. MANLY.
Hull, January 15, 1855.
"My dear Sir,-Your kind letter of November reached me in some of
my wanderings in search of health, and I should probably have replied
ere this but that I waited to have something satisfactory to communicate.
'My attack has been rheumatic gout, brought on, according to Sir
Benjamin Brodie, by labour of mind. On releasing myself from Bristol,
I proceeded to Germany for the benefit of the baths at Wiesbaden, but
after several weeks' trial of them, I returned to England without any
sensible benefit. I then remained several weeks more on the south-east
coast at Dover and Folkestone, and with some advantage. I reached
Hull about the middle of November, and have now resumed full work
though not very adequate to its performance. I still suffer from weak
hands and feeble knees.
"I cannot say that I have made any progress in recovery since I ar-
rived at this place. The situation of the town is low, flat and damp. I
trust that I am the better though not the stronger man for my length-
ened affliction.
"I thank you much for your expressed sympathy. My kind regards
to Mrs. Manly.-I am, my dear Sir,
"Yours sincerely and affectionately,
"JOSEPH BEAUMONT."
The remarkable elevation of his character which has been
noticed to have been apparent in his last days was nowhere
more so than in the pulpit. Those who heard his last
sermons can never forget the fervour and pathos, the dignity
and solemnity which distinguished them. He was always
very sensitive in opening Divine services, and in "giving
out" hymns his emotion was often so great that his utter-
ance was with difficulty effected as the tears started to his
eyes. No one could fail to observe at this time how
deeply he was touched by the weight and importance of his
message, and he was repeatedly compelled to pause in
order to master his feelings. Still, it was apparent that
he was taxing himself too much. He usually preached
ارنده
888
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
*
for an hour, and evidently did not now contemplate cur-
tailing his sermons but, in several instances, he was so
exhausted after preaching half that time that he somewhat
abruptly closed them.
In the last fourteen days of his life he preached fourteen
sermons, besides attending various other religious services,
and these sermons have a peculiar interest (remembering
how immediately his death followed) which will justify
a somewhat detailed notice of them. On the last day
(Sunday) of 1854 he preached in the morning from the
words-"Few and evil have the days of the years of my life
been." At the "watch-night" he preached from the words
"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not
saved" a most solemn and impressive sermon, and uttered a
prayer the beauty and pathos of which will occupy the
memories of those who listened till their memories shall
themselves fade and decay. On the 6th of January, which
opened the last fortnight of his life, occurred a solemn form,
which is observed at the commencement of the year by the
Wesleyan societies and which is called "the Covenant," at
which the members of the society partake of the Lord's
Supper and solemnly dedicate themselves to God. This
service is very long and fatiguing to the officiating ministers,
as the assembly is ordinarily very large and as it involves
constant exhausting walking whilst distributing the elements;
and with Dr. Beaumont the emotions which it excited were
deep and powerful. He would not give up this duty, but
formed it (in conjunction with his colleague Mr. Hargreaves,
who wished to relieve him of much of its labour) in a manner
most remarkable and impressive. Those who were present
will never forget the pealing, solemn voice in which he
delivered his eloquent sentences, dwelling weightily on such
words as the following, which he used in administering this
sacrament :-
per-
'There are many present who will come to this table for the first time,
and who will come trembling, feeling their weakness. To such I would
say
'Come forward with confidence; be not afraid-the table is spread
for you.' But there are some present here to-day who are coming for the
last time, who will never again drink of the fruit of the vine till they
drink it in their Father's house above. To these I would say 'Come,
་
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
389
and commemorate your Saviour's death once more-fulfil his last com-
mand once more. Come and partake of the body and blood of your risen
Saviour before you see him face to face, before you take your flight to the
mansions above."
On the same night he preached from the words "Redeem-
ing the time," and in that sermon made some striking
remarks on sudden death. Amongst other things he said-
"Men sometimes imagine that sudden death can never come near them.
They know there are such visitations, but they say to themselves that
they are so very uncommon that they are themselves quite safe. But not
so!
Sudden deaths are not positively such uncommon things after all-
a great number happen in the course of a year and, when you consider
the darkness of the future, the mystery which envelopes your own chapter
in it, no one can say or think that he will be exempt from it, still less
should any one so live as not to be prepared for it."
Two other most solemn and affecting sermons were preached
by him from the pulpit in Waltham Street Chapel, in which
he died, in a series of special services having reference to the
New Year.
He had determined to try how he could bear a full week's
itinerant work and had engaged to preach at a number of
distant places early in January. He was strongly dissuaded
from doing so by his family, and almost the last communica-
tion which the writer ever had with him verbally before he left
the Christmas circle and the last which he had by letter, after
returning to his own duties, were urgent requests that he
would abandon those engagements and indeed abandon or
very narrowly restrict his ordinary duties. His reply to all
such arguments was— 'My work does not seem to do me
any harm, and I should like to see what I can do." Soon
after the commencement of January the weather became
bitter and severe in the extreme, but on the 11th of that
month this devoted preacher, bowed down with rheumatic
infirmity and whose centre of vitality (as is now known) was
already growing cold, left Hull for Draycot, Quorndon, West-
bromwich, Northwich, and Bedworth. A friend writes of his
last service at Westbromwich thus :-
"I never recollect hearing him preach when he seemed more at home
than on that last Sabbath. He really appeared as though there was too
much of heaven in his soul for him long to be an inhabitant of earth—
390
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
and his conversation was altogether spiritual, and his words were truly
seasonable and full of grace. But we could not help feeling that it was
probably the last time we should hear his voice or be blessed with his
company and conversation-and when he left on the Monday morning
Mrs. C. and my daughter could not refrain from tears, feeling some im-
pression that they would see him no more on earth. In the morning he
preached from the eighth chapter of St. John, twelfth verse.
The sermon
was rich and full of evangelical truth, a mighty influence accompanied
the word, and whilst expatiating on Christ being the light of the world
it was as though the light from the eternal throne had lighted up his own
soul, and that its beams were transmitted through him to the congrega-
tion. The whole seemed full of heavenly light and holy fire. As the
congregation left the chapel, it was the general conversation that he had
on that occasion exceeded all his former doings, and that it was evident
that he dwelt in God and God in him."
Another friend writes from Northwich of his visit
there :-
"He ascended the pulpit and with solemn and measured cadence gave
out the hymn-'A charge to keep I have.' It seemed to thrill the con-
gregation, who drank in the spirit and sentiment of the hymn, and it con-
sorted well with his solemn and fervent prayer. Attention was at once
fixed by the peculiar manner in which he opened and amplified the
subject of his sermon, and attention was riveted on the speaker for a full
hour and ten minutes. There was all the fire and fervour that charac-
terised his preaching formerly, with all the solemnity of a person stand-
ing on the verge of eternity.
"I cannot in language give you any adequate idea of the solemnity of
the occasion. I heard him once in Oldham Street, Manchester, when
the sermon carried away both preacher and congregation, and we sat as
though spellbound by the majesty and sublimity of the preacher's con-
ceptions, but on that occasion, speaking from recollection, I do not think
there was the deep solemnity, the telling sentences, the beautiful ideas,
and withal the gracious influence of the time I now refer to. After the
service he was evidently much exhausted, but after resting in his room
for a little he was quite cheerful and very conversational during the
evening. He left Northwich between nine and ten next morning, when
he spoke of the pleasure he anticipated in getting home, and spending out
the rest of the week there."
A gentleman with whom he met at Bedworth writes:-
"He appeared to me in a happy frame of mind and I was delighted
with his conversation. Speaking of old age he said, 'It is quite right-
old age is a blessing.' Of his health he said, expressing his resignation,
that he was in the hands of the Lord and that He would do right. After
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
391
supper, in returning thanks, he offered a short prayer,* hoping that if we
should never meet again on earth we might have a happy meeting in
heaven. The text from which he preached in the morning was John viii.
12, 'I am the light of the world, he that followeth me shall not walk in
darkness, but shall have the light of life.' He said it was a fine text, and
we thought it was a fine sermon. This and his solemn and impressive
sermon in the evening will not soon be forgotten by the congregation." :
On the Wednesday of the last week of his life he was en-
gaged to speak at a meeting in Hull, but was prevented ful-
filling it by being accidentally detained for some time in the
most biting cold at the Milford station. On the next day he
preached a special sermon at Kingston Chapel in Hull, and a
circumstance of interest attaches to this occasion. In the
pulpit of that chapel (it is a curious coincidence) another
Wesleyan minister who was much esteemed and between
whom and himself a warm friendship subsisted, the Rev. T.
Galland, was some years ago struck down, not indeed by death
but by a fatal illness. In conversing at the house of his friend
Mr. Field just before the service at Kingston, Dr. Beaumont
remarked, "To die in the pulpit is the most glorious death a
preacher can die, and no man can desire anything happier."
In a few hours afterwards this aspiration was realised by
himself.
His last sermon was preached on the Friday evening at
the small village of Newland, a short distance removed from
Hull. This final work was one of those spontaneous labours
which have been alluded to more than once. Having been
appointed to Newland on one of the days of his last extraor-
dinary services, he was prevented from keeping this appoint-
ment but, much to the surprise of the good people there,
who formed a very small and humble society, and who never
expected such consideration, he proposed to preach for them
on this Friday. The afternoon and night were extremely
severe and his family much regretted his resolution, but
through the snow and cutting wind he went; and perhaps it
was well that he did not fail from consideration of self to
utter his last message. His end was thus more consistent
with his life. Here again a singular fitness occurred in the
* It was quite an unusual thing with him to prolong such a grace in
this way.

392
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
1
subject chosen for the occasion, for this great man's last
charge was founded on the parting words of his Master which
are narrated by the evangelist thus: "Then the same day at
evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were
shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews,
came Jesus and stood in the midst of them, and said unto
them, Peace be unto you. And when he had so said he
showed them his hands and his side. Then were his disciples
glad when they saw the Lord. Then said Jesus unto them
again, Peace be unto you; as my Father hath sent me, even
so send I you." From this subject he preached, in one of the
humblest of the many humble Methodist chapels which stud
the country, a sermon full of the peculiar beauties, the grace,
the tenderness, the deep piety, and a certain chaste and har-
monious simplicity of style which made his short "week-
night sermons in some respects more striking even than
those of a more lofty character.
وو
It was Dr. Beaumont's practice, when he visited these
humble worship places, to go in the afternoon to the spot and
spend an hour or two socially with some of the good people.
It was of course ordinarily quite beyond his power to keep up
a pastoral intercourse with the members of these outlying
societies, who are left in effect mainly under the pastorate of
their "leaders," as the ordained preachers are only rarely ap-
pointed to them; and he knew that such visits were more
valued and more useful than those which are paid in a differ-
ent grade of society, or in the more ordinary fulfilment of
pastoral duties. On this occasion he adopted his custom,
and the good man at whose house he took tea on this day has
repeatedly mentioned to Dr. Beaumont's family with pleasure
that visit, recalling the kindly and characteristic interest
which he took in the household, in a little domestic ailment
and in the children, whom he questioned as to their pursuits.
and tenderly advised to remember their Creator in the days of
their youth, as well as his beautiful manner of alluding to the
great work of religion, to the Methodist societies, and the
Christian duties which all had to fulfil.
On the Sunday morning following, Jan. 21st, he sat with
his family at breakfast in the ordinary spirits and health
which of late he had possessed. He led the family worship,
་
393 -
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
perused his letters and observed on the passing topics in his
accustomed manner. He had his sermons for the day by his
side, as was usual with him on the Sunday morning. The
notes which he had made of the sermon which he intended to
preach have already been published, and from these it appears
that his proposed text was the first seven verses of the seventy-
eighth Psalm :—
"Give ear, O my people, to my law: incline your ears to the words of
my mouth.
“I will open my mouth in a parable: I will utter dark sayings of old:
“Which we have heard and known, and our fathers have told us.
“We will not hide them from their children, shewing to the generation
to come the praises of the Lord, and his strength, and his wonderful
works that he hath done.
For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in
Israel, which he commanded our fathers, that they should make them
known to their children:
That the generation to come might know them, even the children
which should be born; who should arise and declare them to their
children:
"That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of
God, but keep his commandments.”
His notes were very imperfect-a mere sketch of his in-
tended sermon-but it is remarkable that he purposed to
dwell much on the great change of death. His treatment of
his subject was to survey the providence of God in the succes-
sion of generations, man's debt to his forefathers, his obliga-
tions to those around him and his duties towards posterity,
"that they might set their hope in God and not forget the
works of God but keep his commandments."
The following are some of the reflections with which he
was about to open his sermon when he was suddenly removed
from his work to his reward.
We cannot calculate the multitudes that have gone off from the stage
of existence in the present world. God having determined that man
should exist by generations, a succession of individuals has passed over
the earth. This gives to the human race a singular character—so that
it seems continually coming and going like the river, of whose waters no
drop is stationary.
66
'By this means a solemn character is impressed on human history, so
that everything about it is awfully grand. Every instant an individual
is coming into being, commencing in connection with our planet an ex-
394
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
f
istence that shall continue through all the majestic cycles of a vast eter-
nity; or another is going out of the present world to give in his last
account to his Almighty Judge, and he shall never return here again.
"
'Now, God having thus made our history solemn and critical, we
stand like spectators musing on the shore of the ocean-where, as we
gaze, we behold the waves rising, forming, swelling and rolling onwards
towards the shore which each reaches, touches and then dies away. But
another wave in the distance rises and swells and urges on to the shore
to supply its place, which reaching, it too kisses, dissolves and dies away.
Thus in perpetual succession the waves rise and dash and die away!
"Thus it is with human beings; one after another comes forth and
retires, making way for his successor, and there is none abiding upon
earth. Many repine at this inevitable law of human life on this earth,
and grieve and murmur because God has appointed all men once to die,
bewailing in pathetic strain this evanescent character of human history,
lamenting that men of the fairest minds and truest piety should so soon
be cut down and flee away.
“Man plants an oak they say—the oak lives, but the man that planted
it dies, he being not like the oak whose duration is measured by cycles,
but like the leaves that come forth in the spring, brighten in the summer
and are shaken off in the autumn. We are strangers before Thee, and
sojourners, as were all our fathers, and there is none abiding.' But the
Christian does not repine at this, 'knowing that if this the earthly house
of his tabernacle is dissolved, he has a building of God, an house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' We mourn not that this is
not our rest, for if we are not to continue here, yet, if Christians, we shall
do better-we shall go off to a happier state of being to see Him whom
having not seen ye love; in whom, though now ye see Him not, yet be-
lieving, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.'”
The morning of his death was very cold and the streets
slippery with the frozen snow, but—to preach this sermon, as
he thought; to die, as it was decreed-he walked with the sup-
port of one of his daughters to Waltham Street Chapel. On
her pressing him before leaving his home to take a somewhat
empirical prescription for his rheumatism, which she felt
anxious for him to try and which he was disposed to adopt in
order that he might gratify her, he replied, "Not this morning,
my dear, it might distress me in my work." He was always
rather thoughtful when about entering the pulpit, and he made
few observations by the way. In the vestry he made some
inquiries about the condition of the chapel schools, for the
benefit of which he was that morning to have preached, and
thus his last words before entering the chapel were on his duty.
He ascended the pulpit stairs with the elasticity which, as has
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
395
been mentioned, it was his custom to assume in so doing, in
order to conceal the lameness which he did not like then to
appear; and he opened the service with his usual solemnity.
The first hymn which he selected was the 316th in the Wesleyan
hymn-book, which commences thus-
"Eternal Power, whose high abode
Becomes the grandeur of a God,
Infinite lengths beyond the bounds
Where stars revolve their little rounds!"
Without reading the first verse, he gave out the first two lines
of the second—
"Thee, while the first Archangel sings,
He hides his face behind his wings!"
These lines he delivered with an awful pathos, and those
who were familiar with his manner will readily imagine his
lips quivering as he uttered the solemn words.* While the
congregation were singing the second of these lines, he looked
partially round (as if in search of something, it was thought),
sank down on the spot where he stood and his beautiful spirit
was at once admitted to chant the praises of God before the
throne instead of continuing to direct the devotions of mortals
below. Without a sound or sigh or motion, and doubtless
without a single instant's premonition, he died. Surely such
a death-so calm, so stately, so peaceful, in the performance
of a great work which he ever pursued with a zeal and devo-
tion altogether uncommon, and was fulfilling under circum-
stances such as surrounded him in his personal condition-
surely it was heroic, or it was like the translation of some
of God's ancient heroes rather than the death of the great
amongst men! Some of his family were in the chapel at the
moment of this awful occurrence and others entered it imme-
diately afterwards. To attempt any description of the scene
would be as painful as it would be out of place, but everything
which medical skill could do to discover or recall life was forth-
with done, yet in a few minutes it was said—and how did
* It is thought not improbable that the emotion which this part of the
service gave rise to was the immediate cause of his death. It might well
have been so, from the condition which it was afterwards found that his
heart was in.
•
!
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
396
many hearts, and how terribly did some fail and sink when it
was said!" He is dead.'
""
And so it was that, full of sweet
peace and steadfast trust, his mind overflowing with sacred
joy in his duties, in his family and in his God and God's mar-
vellous works, reposing on the Divine promises, having held
fast the faith, having fought the good fight, he was called
above. His life showed how the highest qualities of a man
—love, gentleness, charity, grace, magnanimity, disinterested-
ness, courage, energy, intellect, imagination, eloquence, self-
devotion-may be perfected and elevated by true and soul-
pervading Christianity so as most effectually to complete and
harmonise them. Both in its public aspect and in the seques-
tered walks of humble privacy it exhibited how the maxims of
the Gospel and the graces of a finished Christian may well con-
sist with all that is lofty and beautiful in the lower ethics of
philosophy or the natural affections and gifts of humanity.
And-having so lived as to afford a rare example to all who
would fain raise their being above the ordinary level of mun-
dane affairs into a region of elevated purity and piety, without
abandoning the duties and the pleasures which the Creator has
imposed and lavished upon his creatures here he so died that,
even to the most worldly or to those who can least reconcile
themselves to his sudden removal, his death appears to have
been itself a triumph and almost visibly the initiation of a
nobler, purer and happier state of being.
The tale is told. All that follows is merely as an appendix,
but it is an appendix that should not be omitted. The news
of Dr. Beaumont's death spread as rapidly throughout the
country as if he had held a more prominent position in
the great world. In Hull the sensation which it created
was universal, and throughout the country a wide-spread and
indeed general sentiment of regret was entertained and ex-
pressed. The ordinary channels of information, the news-
papers, in every part paid to his memory the homage which
it deserved, and all classes participated in mourning the loss
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
397
which mankind at large and the universal church of Christ
had sustained. Thousands throughout the country were
deeply afflicted at his lamented death, while to his friends his
loss can never be repaired, and from his more immediate sphere
it has utterly removed the light and centre.
After his death, and then only, it was discovered by exa-
mination that the cause of his death was a most extensive
and complicated disease of the heart, beyond doubt of long
continuance and affecting almost every portion and adjunct
of the vital organ. To what time exactly its origin is to be
traced it is impossible to say, but it is highly probable that
the constant and deep anxieties to which he was exposed dur-
ing the years 1850 and 1851 were intimately connected with
its development, if they were not its cause. It is most remark-
able that for so long a time as it must have existed he was able
to sustain at all the constant and excessive labours which he
habitually undertook. For long he must have been in
momently peril of the fountain of his life ceasing to afford
its streams, for such was his condition that every little excite-
ment or exertion might naturally have caused the catastrophe
-though beyond a doubt, even after the disease had esta-
blished itself, ease and quiet might have prolonged his life
considerably, if its fatal results had not been entirely
prevented. But, prematurely closed as his life was, he was
one who, both in public and private, lived the life of many
men. It is at least grateful to the feelings of those who
loved him to know that his last labours were not imposed
by the harsh call of inexorable duty, but that they were
undertaken (as indeed was the greater part of what he did
throughout life) at the spontaneous dictation of his devoted
and self-denying spirit.
So numerous were the applications which were made to be
permitted to see the life-like remains of the beloved minister
-life-like indeed, but not the less wanting in the "sensible
warm motion" of life-that on two afternoons before their
consignment to the tomb the chamber of death was opened to
those who wished to look once more on his calm and lofty
countenance. Many hundreds of loving friends and mourning
Christians pressed to enter where he lay; and it was indeed a
touching sight-this crowd all sorrowing, many weeping bit-
}
ד
398
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
terly, as with reverent and loving eyes they looked upon his
solemn features and blessed his memory and thanked their
God for making such a man.
It is needless perhaps to say that his family received from
all around them the utmost and most generous and delicate
sympathy and assistance in their bereaved condition. Some-
times men sneer at such consolations as these and close
themselves against them and deny their value, but those
who have had cause to mourn as bitterly as mortal can and
who have loved the departed with a devotion perhaps greater
than may justly be rendered to creature have felt that those
consolations are not ideal, and that, though they do not sweeten
the waters of bitterness, they surround them with pleasant
shade and with flowers which none to whom God has given
feeling can justly disregard. From every part of the country
the bereaved family received much sympathy manifested in
various ways-in many, many instances such as they can
never forget. His friends in Hull in particular proved by
their sympathy and assistance that they possessed the same
hearts as when their dead pastor had travelled amongst
them many years previously; and, as he never could forget
them, those who bear his name will carry with them an
abiding sense of the many kindnesses which they themselves
received.
Dr. Beaumont's remains were buried in the Hull Cemetery.
The morning on which they were interred was one of those bril-
liant winter days when, after a long and gloomy concealment,
the sun shines forth upon the dazzling snow and the glisten-
ing icicles with extraordinary glory and seems, to those who
mourn, to mock at the little sublunary griefs of man, and to
flout their misery with gladness, discordant indeed to beings
whose sun has gone down for ever and whose world seems
lightened only by the reflection which, in its departure, it casts
over their small firmament. Thousands from all the neigh-
bourhood and many from distant parts of the country were
gathered together to offer their homage to his memory. The
respect thus manifested was displayed by no one party or sect
and in the town of Hull it was universal. The last rites
were performed by his friends and colleagues, Messrs. Lomas
and Hargreaves; his pall was borne by ministers of the Wes-
ง
t
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
399
leyan, the Presbyterian, the Independent and the Baptist
churches, and the mournful train which followed him to the
grave was swollen by large numbers of the officers and
members of his own circuit. With hardly an exception the
clergy of the town and many of the resident ministers of the
various dissenting churches joined in the tribute thus paid
to his memory, and amongst the assembled multitude were
numbers of ministers of all denominations from the neigh-
bourhood.
The Rev. Dr. Dixon, distinguished amongst the Wesleyans
for his many high gifts and Christian character, and who
was united to Dr. Beaumont by ties of mutual regard,
preached to a deeply interested crowd a most beautiful sermon
on this sad occasion, to which was annexed a short sketch
of his friend's life and character. It has already been men-
tioned that he took for his text the words "An eloquent
man, and mighty in the Scriptures," and fitly chosen was the
subject. Many also were the ministers of the Established and
other churches as well as of the Wesleyans who placed before
their congregations in the shape of funeral sermons the noble
example which his life and death afforded, "praising the
dead which were already dead." Some of these sermons were
preached in quarters where they were least expected, but
all were welcomed by those who heard them as just and
valuable.
From amongst hundreds of letters which his family have
received, condoling with them and praising him who was
gone, a few extracts only are inserted. These it seems right
and appropriate to add in concluding, selecting them entirely
from amongst those which were written by his colleagues or
ministerial friends and which express their sentiments of his
ministerial character and labours. Some such extracts are
accordingly subjoined in a series of passages, and others might
be added, though only at the risk of unduly extending these
supplementary pages. However his opinions on public affairs
might differ from those of his ministerial brethren, he was much
beloved by all who knew him and by those who were asso-
ciated with him in labour he was regarded with high esteem
and affection. He was a most kind, thoughtful and zealous
colleague, and in troublesome times his courtesy and gentle-
¿
400.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
ness and self-command enabled him to smooth differences
which might otherwise have been increased.
brother ministers have written of him thus:-
Some of his
"I will not presume, at any rate to you, to speak of the noble nature
and transcendent talents of the deceased, or to estimate the loss sus-
tained by the church and the world by his removal; but I may claim to
be one of a great multitude whose tears are now shed with yours over the
prince of Christian preachers and one of the best and greatest men that
ever lived. Thousands upon thousands will say that Dr. Beaumont-
since all must die-has finished his course in the right place, for the
pulpit was his throne."
"We were, without any previous arrangement, and altogether unex-
pectedly on my part, both stationed at Southwark. There it was that I
became more intimately acquainted with him. Living, as we did, near
each other, our intercourse was almost daily. Of his mental powers and
his ministerial ability I need say nothing-these are before the public.
His general habits were very studious, and his preparations for the pulpit
were made with great care. His sermons were often written at full
length, and were delivered with energy and unction. His popularity
drew him rather too much from his own more immediate work, and his
absence from his circuit was sometimes matter of regret, but I do not
remember that he ever accepted an invitation without consulting me.
As a colleague he was always kind, and ever ready to oblige. His piety
was sincere and fervent, and his social intercourse with the people was
such as left a favourable impression when he was gone.
"As a superintendent I can say nothing, for I never saw him in that
capacity. But I should be inclined to think that his natural kindness of
heart might incline him to yield too much in some cases in which it
would have been better if he had been more firm."
"In subsequent years,* principally from the circumstance of our dis-
tance from each other, we seldom met; but I never ceased to cherish the
warmth of my early regard towards him. In maturer life, we held dif-
ferent views on the public business of our Conference; and whether he
gave me the same credit for integrity and independence in the course I
deemed it right to pursue which I willingly accorded to him I cannot tell.
But a few years since, I went to his seat in the Conference to express an
earnest hope that any difference of opinion upon such matters should not
prevent us interchanging those acts of friendship which were due to our
earlier intimacy and he responded to my appeal with affectionate cor-
diality."
(6
During the two years we laboured together I had many opportunities
of marking his domestic conduct, and here the Christian virtues shone
forth with all their lustre. As a master, a husband, a parent, in his
* This is taken from the letter of one of his early friends, the Rev. J.
Bowers.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
401
1
domestic relations he was happy, loving and beloved by all around him
With respect to his public and ministerial character it may truly be said
he loved Methodism, and no man that I am acquainted with was more
cordially attached to Methodistic Theology. His ministry was truly
Methodistical and therefore thoroughly Evangelical. With respect to
the ability, the earnestness, the fidelity, the brilliancy of that ministry,
others will testify who are much more competent to do it justice than I
can pretend to be, for 'it requires the hand of an Apelles to paint an
Achilles.'
(6
199
I cannot tell the severity with which the awful tidings of his death
fell upon my heart. I feel that one of the strongest ties that bound me
to earth and life is suddenly snapped. Can I ever forget that coun-
tenance that beamed with benevolence and brightened with intelligence,
or that voice whose every utterance was music to my heart? I admired
and loved Dr. Beaumont while living-his name to me is as ointment
poured forth-and his memory is a joy for ever.' His equal I never
knew and never expect to know, till mortality is swallowed up of life.'
Only once I heard him preach, but that magnificent sermon is an epoch
in my memory. It was preached in the presence of the thousands that
thronged Exeter Hall on the 31st of August, 1851; and never can I
forget the beautiful and eloquent strains in which he expatiated on the
works of God in connection with the works of man then in course of
exhibition in the Crystal Palace, from the Psalmist's words,—' For
Thou Lord hast made me glad through Thy works: I will triumph in
the works of Thy hands.' It was an outburst of pent-up fires, a glorious
emanation of light and life. I have heard great and good men, and
marked their distinctive excellencies, but I never knew the elements and
evidences of intellectual, emotional, rhetorical, and spiritual superiority
so clustered and comprehended as in him. From this text 1 preached
with reference to him to my own congregation on the Sunday morning
after his death-and now though he is temporarily detached from all he
loved below, his name is enshrined in unnumbered hearts and is graven
on eternal tablets.
“But much as I admired his intellect and eloquence, I admired his
moral qualities, his kindness, his warmth, his perfect sincerity, his sym-
pathy with suffering, his liberality, and his courage still more. He was
the friend of the down-trodden and the helper of the helpless. Where
duty called, or truth and righteousness beckoned, or suffering silently be
sought, there he rushed, forgetful of himself and heedless of personal
consequences. His sympathy and kindness were perfectly disinterested ;
and I do not believe that the world contained a heart more thoroughly
exempt from every shade and spot of selfishness.
"No words can express my love for noble Dr. Beaumont, my sorrow
in his absence, my admiration of his godlike qualities (for godlike he was,
and no feebler word will denote his greatness), and the pleasure with
which I hope to rejoin him. I rejoice and ever will rejoice that
I had the honour and happiness of knowing him-to me the first of
D D
"
1
1

402
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
U
men. Of him it may indeed be said that he felt as nobly as he thought
and acted accordingly. He was eminently consistent in all the elements
and aspects of his character; unlike many whose marked excellencies
are the companions of faults or defects of equal prominence.
I can scarcely realize the fact that his voice is no longer to be heard
on earth. I shall ever feel it an honour that it was my lot to be associ-
ated with him as a colleague during the last two years; and especially
as further acquaintance with his character and disposition served only to
strengthen my attachment, and to increase my admiration of his true
greatness. 'The law of truth was in his mouth, and iniquity was not
found in his lips; he walked with men in peace and equity, and did turn
many away from iniquity.' His end was indeed glorious—it may be
said of him that he was not permitted to see death, for it partook more of
"a translation than a dissolution."
The task which the writer undertook, full of difficulty and
of melancholy interest to him, is now accomplished, though
indeed in a very unsatisfactory manner. Perhaps he cannot
better close the work which filial duty has directed than by
adding to it some beautiful lines which (amongst many other
elegiac effusions) were written on the occasion of Dr. Beau-
mont's death. They were amongst the last productions of a
young poetess (Miss Emma Tatham) who afforded much
promise, and whose works display fine poetic gifts, but who
was removed by death, in the flower of her youth, only a
few months after the event which in these lines she sung.
“I saw the lark, that loves the skies, ascending
On wings of ecstasy the sunny height;
"Till with the rays of glory round him blending,
Hidden in heaven, lost in seas of light.
"The echoes to sweet Philomel were ringing
But, while the grove yet lulled to rapture lay,
In sullen silence died the impassioned singing-
The nightingale had sung her soul away!
"So worshipping he fell,—and was this dying-
The spirit upwards borne on wings of praise;
The fire-fledg'd arrow sudden heavenward flying;
The altar-flame dissolved in dazzling blaze?
"Calm rolls Niagara, the wide world's wonder
Calmest, sublimest, at her glorious fall;
Then leaping into everlasting thunder,
Sinks worshipping before the Lord of all.
LIFE OF DR. BEAUMONT.
403
"And so he fell! The full stream of devotion
Gather'd its billows to one mighty roll-
Then, sinking in eternity's bright ocean,
Broke into bliss the torrent of his soul.
""Twas meet, 'twas merciful, a soul flame-winged
Should ne'er be caged by languor and decay;
Meet, the bright harp, unbroken, lightning-stringéd
Should, tremulous with praise, be snatch'd away.
"Thus, while Elisha yet his voice attended,
The mighty prophet's fiery car had flown;
So our Elijah suddenly ascended,
Translated from the Temple to the Throne."
THE END.
LONDON: SERCOMBE AND JACK, 16A GREAT WINDMILL street.

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