Transcribed from the 1817 Hay and Turner edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                   [Picture: Public domain book cover]

                    HAY AND TURNER’S GENUINE EDITION,
                       Entered at Stationers’ Hall.

                                * * * * *





                                   THE
                              INFAMOUS LIFE
                                    OF
                               JOHN CHURCH,
                                   THE
                      St. George’s Fields Preacher,
             FROM HIS INFANCY UP TO HIS TRIAL AND CONVICTION,
                                   WITH
                            _HIS CONFESSION_,


    Sent in a Letter to the Rev. Mr. L—, two days after his Attack on
         Adam Foreman, at Vauxhall, with Clerical Remarks by the
                  same Gentleman; to which is added, his

                     _Love Epistles to E**** B****_.

                                * * * * *

 Together with various other Letters, particularly one to Cook, of Vere-
                            Street Notoriety.

                                * * * * *

                                 London:
                _PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY HAY AND TURNER_,
                       11, NEWCASTLE STREET STRAND;
          AND MAY BE HAD OF ALL BOOKSELLERS IN TOWN AND COUNTRY.

                                  1817.

                           _PRICE FOUR PENCE_.

                                * * * * *




THE LIFE
OF
_JOHN CHURCH_,
&c. &c.


IT has been justly remarked, by a celebrated writer, that “a sudden rise
from a low station, as it sometimes shews to advantage the virtuous and
amiable qualities, which could not exert themselves before, so it more
frequently calls forth and exposes to view those spots of the soul which
lay lurking in secret, cramped by penury, and veiled with dissimulation.”

JOHN CHURCH, the subject of the following pages, was found, when an
infant, on the steps, or near the porch of a church (some say that of St.
Andrew, in Holborn;) and the overseers of the parish not being able to
discover who were his parents, or by whom he was thus abandoned, had him
sent to the Foundling Hospital, where he received that name, which bears
the nearest analogy to the place where he was found.  Here he remained
until he was nine years old, when a complaint to the Governors having
been made against him by the nurses, that he was addicted to improper and
disgusting practices, it was thought prudent to apprentice him out at
that early age, to obviate the possibility of the contagion spreading
amongst the rest of the boys who partook of the bounties of that charity.
From his evident illiteracy, and from the badness of his writing, it is
certain that he must have quitted the Hospital at an earlier age than
usual, because, in general, none leave it who are not good scholars.  He
was accordingly placed out as an apprentice to a Gilder, in Blackfriars
Road.  Before the expiration of his indenture, he married and quitted the
service of his master.  Shortly afterwards, he worked for a composition
ornament maker, in Tottenham Court Road.  This immaculate Minister of the
Gospel here commenced his religious career, and, under the assumed garb
of sanctity, took upon him the office of a teacher to the Sunday School,
at that time established at Tottenham Court Chapel.  Thinking that
preaching was a better trade than that which he was employed in, this
_precious_ teacher, together with two other young men, hired a garret in
the neighbourhood of Soho, where they used to learn the method of
addressing themselves to a congregation.  An old chair was the substitute
for a pulpit.  He now began (to use his own expression) “_to gammon the
old women_.”—Good fortune happened at length to procure him the notice of
Old Mother Barr, of Orange-street, who, being interested in his behalf,
allowed him the use of a room of hers, in which he treated her and a few
other choice labourers in the field of piety with his rapturous
discourses..  From this he used to hold forth more publicly.  His virtues
and acquirements now recommended him to one Garrett, of notorious memory,
who obtained him a _living_ at Banbury.  It was at this place that he
became obnoxious.  Having made several violent attempts upon some young
men while at that place, he was driven out from thence, by the trustees
of the chapel in which he preached, and ordered never to show his face
there again.  He hastily decamped, leaving behind him his wife and
children; and the police officers having been sent in pursuit, their
searches proved fruitless, and it was a long time before he was heard of.
He once more retired into the country, but was called from his solitude,
to use his influence in town, by a man of his own disgraceful kind, named
_Kitty Cambric_, and well know at the Swan, in _Vere Street_.  It is
proper to observe here that some of these wretches assume the names of
women, and that they are absolutely married together, as will be shown
presently, from Church’s having been the parson who performed the
blasphemous mock ceremony of joining them in the ties of “_Holy
Matrimony_.”  He now settled himself at Chapel Court, in the Borough,
when his old friend Garrett, publicly charged him with a wicked and
diabolical offence, as the law says, “not to be named amongst
Christians,” and he was obliged to run away from this accusation.  By
some fortuitous event he at length got possession of the Obelisk Chapel,
where he began to deliver his doctrines to those who were foolish and
ignorant enough to attend to his fulsome and incoherent exclamations.
Several young men, whose names are known to the writer, who were
accustomed to hear him, were obliged to leave him in consequence of his
having used them in a manner too indecent to be mentioned or hinted at.
E. B. a respectable tradesman, residing in the Borough of Southwark, has
informed the writer of the present article, that this parson, or rather
this monster, when be was about to preach, would frequently say—“Well, I
am going to tip ’em a gammoning story; my old women would believe the
moon to be made of green cheese if I was to tell them so; and I must tell
them something.”  The writer has also been informed, from credible
authority, that Church was a constant attendant in Vere-street, and that
the gang of miscreants who met at the public-house there, some of whom
stood in the pillory about seven or eight years ago, had nominated him to
be their _Chaplain_, and that he officiated in that capacity.  By virtue
of his functions in this situation, he was often employed in joining
these monsters in the “indissoluble tie of matrimony!!!”  They were
absolutely wedded together.  One evening, when Church visited this
infamous place of resort, one of the gang observed, “Here’s Parson
Church.  Aye, Parson, how d’ye do?  Have you come to see our
Chapel?”—Church replied, “Yes, and to preach too.”

In addition to the above account is the following, communicated by the
before-mentioned E. B. who happened, unfortunately, to be an attendant at
Church’s meeting house, when the latter took notice of and formed an
acquaintance with him, commencing as usual with pious exhortations, and
then followed up by distrusting freedoms.  Mr. B. however, struck with
horror at such conduct, abandoned the place, when he received two letters
from Church, of which the following are copies:—

    DEAR NED—May the best of blessings be yours in life and in death,
    while the sweet sensations of real genuine disinterested friendship
    rules every power of your mind body and soul.  I can only say I wish
    you was as much captivated with sincere friendship as I am but we all
    know our own feelings best—Friendship those best of names, affection
    those sweetest power like some powerful charm that overcomes the
    mind—I could write much on this subject but I dare not trust you with
    what I could say much as I esteem you—You would consider it as
    unmanly and quite effeminate, and having already proved what human
    nature is I must conceal even those emotions of love which I feel.  I
    wish I had the honor of being loved by you as much and in as great a
    degree as I do you.  Sometimes the painful thought of a separation
    overpowers me, many are now trying at it but last night I told the
    persons that called on me that let them insinuate what they would I
    would never sacrifice my dear Ned to the shrine of any other friend
    upon earth—and that them who did not like him, should have none of my
    company at all.  I find dear Ned many are using all their power to
    part us but I hope it will prove in vain on your side the effect that
    all this has upon me is to make me love you ten times more than ever,
    I wish opposition may have the same effect upon you in this
    particular but I fear not. however I am confident if you love me now
    or at any other time my heart will ever be set upon you nor can I
    ever forget you till death.  Your leaving of me will break my heart,
    bring down my poor mind with sorrow to the grave and wring from my
    eyes the briny tears, while my busy meddling memory will call to
    remembrance the few pleasant hours we spent together.  I picture to
    my imagination the affecting scene the painful thought, I must close
    the affecting subject ’tis more than my feelings are able to bear—My
    heart is full, my mind is sunk, I shall be better when I have vented
    out my grief.  Stand fast my dearest Ned to me I shall to you whether
    you do to me or no, and may we be pardoned, justified, and brought
    more to the knowledge of Christ.  O help me to sing—

    When thou my righteous Judge shall come
    To fetch thy ransom’d people home,
       May I among them stand,
    Let such a worthless worm as I,
    That sometimes am afraid to die,
       Be found at thy right hand.
    I love to meet amongst them now,
    Before thy gracious feet to bow,
       Tho’ vilest of them all;
    But can I bear the piercing thought,
    What if my name should be left out,
       When thou for them should call.

    Learn these two verses by heart and then I will write two more, as
    they are expressions of mind fears sensations and desires—I must
    close, I long to see your dear face again, I long for Sunday morning
    till then God bless you.

    3d March, 1809.

                          I remain unalterably thy dear thy loving friend,
                                                                J. CHURCH.

The following, without a date, was written by Church to Mr. B. who
received it on or about the 15th day of March, 1809:—

    DEAR SIR—Is this thy kindness to thy once professed much loved
    friend, surely I never, never did deserve such cruel treatment at
    your hands; why not speak to me last night in James-street when you
    heard me call, Stop! stop! Ned! do, pray do: but cruel, cruel Ned,
    deaf to all intreaties—O why was I permitted to pass the door of Mr.
    Gibbons when you and West were coming out.  Why was I permitted to
    tramp up and down the New Cut after you; I wanted to speak one bitter
    heart breaking painful distressing word, farewell: I only wanted to
    pour my sorrows into your bosom, to shake hands with you once more,
    but I was denied this indulgence.  I never, never thought you would
    deceive me—O what an unhappy man am I; the thing that I most feared
    is come upon me, no excuse can justify such apparent duplicity; O my
    distress is great indeed.  O my God! what shall I do?  O Christ!  O
    God! support me in this trying hour, what a night am I passing
    through; I cannot sleep, its near three o’clock; alas! sleep is
    departed, how great my grief, how bitter my sorrows, the loss of my
    character is nothing to the loss of one dearer to me than any thing
    else.  O let me give vent to tears; but I am too, too much distressed
    to cry; O that I could.  I feel this like a dagger; never, never can
    I forgive the unhappy instrument of my distress in Charlotte-street.
    Why did my dear friend Edward deceive me?  O how my mind was eased on
    Wednesday night; alas, how distressed on Thursday.  I have lost my
    only bosom friend, nearest dearest friend, bosom from bosom torn, how
    horrid.  Ah, dear Suffolk-court, never surely can I see you again.
    How the Philistines will triumph; there, so would we have it: how
    Ebeir, Calvin, Thompson, Edwards, Bridgman, all will rejoice, and I
    have lost my friend, my all in this world, except the other part of
    myself, my wife, and poor babes; never did I expect this from my dear
    E— B—.  O for a clam mind, that I might sleep till day light; but no,
    this I fear will be denied me.  How can I bear the piercing thought,
    parted; a dreadful word, worst of sensations, the only indulgence,
    the only confident, the only faithful, the only kind and indulgent
    sympathising friend, to lose you.  O what a stroke; O what a cut,
    what shall I do for matter on Sunday; O that I could get some one to
    preach for me, how can I lift up my head.  O Sir, if you have a grain
    of affection left for me, do intreat of God to support me; this is a
    worse affliction than the loss of my character nine months ago.  A
    man cannot lose his character twice.  O I did think you knew better:
    I did think I had found one in you that I could not find elsewhere;
    but no, the first object presented to you, seen suddenly, gained your
    mind, gained your affections; and I, poor unhappy distressed I, am
    left to deplore your loss.  O for submission, but I am distressed;
    woe is me.  O that I had never, never known you, then I should never
    feel what I do; but I thank you for your company hitherto, I have
    enjoyed it four moths exactly, but this is over for ever; miserable
    as I am, I wish you well for ever, for ever.  I write in the
    bitterness of my soul which I feel.  May you never be cursed with the
    feelings I possess as long as you live.  What a day I have before me;
    I cannot go out of my house till Sunday morning.  How can I conceal
    my grief from my dear wife? how shall I hide it? what shall I say?  I
    am miserable, nor can I surmount the shock at all.  I have no friend
    to pour out my sorrows to now, I wish I had; I am sorry you are so
    easily duped by any to answer their purposes; my paper is full, my
    paper is full, my heart is worse; God help me; Lord God support me!
    what shall I do, dear God!  O Lord! have mercy on me, I must close;
    this comes from your ever loving but distressed

                                                                J. CHURCH.

For some years past, the person just named has been getting a living by
preaching as a Minister of the Gospel in an obscure conventicle close to
the Surrey Theatre.  In the mean time, reports had gone abroad that he
was addicted to certain abominable propensities; and certain gentlemen in
the neighbourhood, not actuated by any jealousy towards a successful
“rival in the vineyard,” but dreading the disgrace and pollution which
Christianity might suffer from the immoral character of any of its
teachers, investigated these rumours; and the facts now related came to
light.  James Cook, who kept the infamous house in Vere Street, was
released from his two years imprisonment in Newgate, on the 21st of
September 1812.  In the course of a few days after, he accidentally met
John Church, and recognized him as the _gay parson_ whom he had formerly
seen at a certain house in the London Road, and at his own house in Vere
Street.  A friendly correspondence then took place between these two old
acquaintances.  About the 13th of October, Cook received a letter from
him.  In this the _Minister of the Gospel_ offers his assistance to the
“Vere Street Culprit,” to enable him to set up another public house, as
the reader will perceive from perusing the letter itself:—

    Dear Sir,

    Lest I should not have time to call on you or converse with you at I
    shall not be alone to Day I thought it But right to Drop you a Line I
    wish you all the success you can desire in getting a house fit for
    the Business in the public Line as you had a great many acquaintance,
    they ought not to fail you if every one acted right according to
    there ability I am sure you would soon accomplish it.  As I am by no
    means Rich, But rather embarrassed I hope you will accept my mite
    towards it 1l. 1s. and you shall have another as convenient wishing
    you all prosperity.

    I remain Your’s, sincerely.

                                                                J. CHURCH.

                  for Mr. Cook, at mr.  Halladays Richmond Budgs. Dean St.

There is another letter bearing the two-penny post nark of the 20th of
October.—It is as follows:—

    Dear Sir,

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

                                                I remain Yours.  J CHURCH.

    32 hercules Buildings

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

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

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

                                                         (Signed) S. HALL.

    _Banbury_, _March_ 7, 1810.

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

          _Extract from the Confession of Wm. Clark_, _of Ipswich_.

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

                                                            WILLIAM CLARK.

    RICHARD PATMORE
    J. ELLISON
    C. WIRE
    H. T. WIRE
    Witnesses.

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

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

The following will cast some light on the preceding:

                                       _Colchester_, _September_ 16, 1812.

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

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

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

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

There are various other documents which are too voluminous to notice at
present.  The point to direct the attention of the public is, the
extraordinary circumstance of a man continuing to exercise the functions
of a christian pastor up to the present time, with such heavy imputations
as these hanging over his head.  He knew that the whole neighbourhood
rung with accusations; he knew that some hundreds of publications
containing charges so severe, that any statements compared to them, “were
lenity and compassion,” have been sold in St. George’s-fields.

The reader may probably have some curiosity to know what sort of a
preacher this person is.  I have gone to hear him; and I pity his poor
deluded followers.  He does indeed deliver himself in a full, clear,
articulate tone of voice; but to criticise his style, or analyse the
_substance_ of his discourse, would be a fruitless labour: it would be
like dissecting a cobweb.  Unmeaning rhapsodies, and unconnected
sentences, through which the faintest gleam of morality is not to be
traced, must, from their evanescent nature, set the powers of
recollection at defiance; they even escape from the lash of one’s
contempt.  In his countenance there is none of that dignified mildness,
none of that subdued expression of piety which one often observes in
Christian preachers whose habits of life are conformable to their
precepts.  His manner is forward and imposing; and his eyes are
continually employed in staring at some person among his auditors. {11}

The following Character is given of Church by Mr. George Gee and his
wife, who live in the New Cut, Lambeth Marsh.

    “Mr. Church the Minister lodged at our house a year and a half, and
    left last year at Lady-day.

    “We were in hopes that we were about to have a godly praying minister
    in our house, and to be sure, the first night he had somewhat like
    prayer, and that and once afterwards, were the only times he ever
    went to family prayer in our house.  Nor could they have any prayer,
    as he would be frequently out almost all hours of the night, and
    would lie in bed till ten o’clock in the morning.  Several times he
    and his wife would have skirmishings and fightings between
    themselves, while their children would be left to run about the
    streets out of school hours, and allowed to keep company with
    children that would swear in our hearing most shockingly.  His
    children were always left to be very dirty, and would be sent
    sometimes three or four times in the morning for spirituous liquors
    of all sorts; as for reading good books or even the Bible, he scarce
    ever thought of it, but would spend a deal of his time in loose and
    vain talk, in walking about, and in fawning on young men, that was
    his chief delight.

    “Sundays and working days were all alike to them, for they would send
    out to buy liquors and whatever else they wanted, on Sundays as well
    as other days.

    “The house would be frequently more like a play-house (I might say a
    bawdy house) than a minister’s house, where a set of young people
    would come, and behave more indecently than ought to be mentioned.
    Even one Sunday morning they made such an uproar, as that they broke
    one of the windows, and after that, they would go with him to his
    Chapel, and after that he would give the sacrament to such disorderly
    people, let their characters be ever so loose.”

    “He was always ready to go fast enough out to dinner or supper, where
    he could get good eating and drinking; but poor people might send to
    him from their sick bed, times and times before he would come to
    them.  Seeing so much of his inconsistencies and shocking filthiness
    in their rooms, (though they always paid the rent,) we were
    determined to give them warning to quit our house, and we do think
    that a worse man or woman never came into any man’s house before,
    especially as Mr. Church pretended to preach the gospel; such
    hypocrites are much worse than others, and besides this, we never
    heard any man tell lies so fast in all our lives.  It is a great
    grief to us that ever we went to hear him preach, or suffered him to
    stop so long in our house.”

                                                 “GEORGE AND FRANCES GEE.”

In addition to the above testimonies, the writer has received a very long
narrative of atrocities committed by JOHN CHURCH while he resided at
Banbury, written by a Minister at that place; but the facts are too
disgusting and shocking to be published.

                                * * * * *

On the 6th of June 1813, the Grand Jury for the County of Middlesex found
a Bill of Indictment against JOHN CHURCH for his attempt some years ago
on a lad named Webster.  Incredible as it may appear, this very man, on
the very evening of the day he was held to bail for trial on the most
horrid charges, given on oath, had the impudence to go into his chapel
and preach to a crowded audience.

At the Middlesex Sessions on Monday the 12th of July 1813, he was tried
and _acquitted_.  Indeed, it was never imagined that any other verdict
than one of acquittal would have been given.  If the reader looks back to
the proceedings at Union Hall, he will find that this prosecution was
ORDERED by the Magistrates of that Office, and _did not originate_ with
the prosecutor, William Webster, on whom the abominable attempt was
alleged to have been made (now fourteen years ago).  The very mention of
the attempt was a mere incidental circumstance arising out of another
proceeding then before the Magistrates.  Let the Reader also take notice
of the following sentence:—“The Magistrate observed, that from the length
of time which had elapsed since the offence had been committed, he
thought a Jury would not feel justified in finding him guilty.”  This
William Webster, therefore, must be considered, in all respects, as an
unwilling prosecutor.  He was supported only by one counsel, then of
young standing (Mr. Adolphus), who had to struggle against two of the
most able advocates (Messrs. Gurney and Alley) in the criminal courts.
It appears also that Webster gave his evidence with embarrassment and
trepidation, and that he suffered himself to fall into some
inconsistencies.  With this _solitary_ and confused evidence, and after a
lapse—after a _silence_ of ELEVEN YEARS, was it possible to suppose that
a Jury would have found any man guilty?  It must here be observed, that
the decision on this solitary complaint of eleven years standing, does
not in the slightest degree affect any of the numerous accusations of a
more recent date which have been made against John Church.

                                * * * * *

Several persons have been at a loss to know by what authority this man
presumed to take upon himself the functions of a Minister of the Gospel.
They have asked how could a man so profligate—so notoriously criminal,
come forth to instruct others in religion.  The question is natural, and
demands an answer.  The practice among Dissenters is, that when any man
feels a strong desire to become a preacher, he communicates the same to
several Ministers, who make strict enquiry into his qualifications as to
piety, learning, morals, &c. and if they find these established on
satisfactory evidence, they then confer on the candidate a sort of
ordination, without which he can have no authority to officiate as a
minister of the Gospel.  It seems, that Church did receive some
ordination of this kind at the town of Banbury, in Oxfordshire, from
which place he was driven away for his mal-practices.  Since then he has
not been, under the controul, and has acted in defiance of all the
ordinances of the Dissenting Church.  He has in fact gone about as a mere
isolated adventurer; and no minister would preach in a pulpit belonging
to him.  Yet he continued to preach, in defiance of Christian as well as
moral ordinances, because he could not be silenced by any legal
authority, and because he rejected all ecclesiastical government.

One character peculiar to the person we are speaking of is, that wherever
he has been admitted as a preacher, he has disturbed the religious
system, and upset the order of the place.  In Colchester he turned the
whole congregation against their minister, by preaching doctrines tending
to encourage licentiousness and to foster the worst passions.  All
persons acquainted with history will recollect, that this mode of healing
the consciences of profligate men was practised by the Romish Church
before the Reformation, and when it flourished in its rankest state of
corruption—when indulgences for sins to be committed, and pardon for sins
past, were openly sold for money.  The manner in which the Obelisk
Preacher has conducted the affairs of his chapel bears some resemblance
to this practice; and for the purpose of increasing his revenue, he has
even administered the sacrament to persons when intoxicated!!

However great may be the mass of folly, ignorance, and fanaticism, which
prevail throughout most of the low conventicles of this metropolis, and
however injuriously they may operate on the human mind, their effects are
innocence and virtue, compared to the influence of that guilt which has
so recently been exposed; and it is not too much to observe that the poor
silly visionaries who deal in pictures, in miracles, and monstrous
conceits, are not wilfully or practically vicious, and that they have
_lashed_ themselves into a belief of what they preach; therefore they
cannot drag forward so close upon the heels of Mr. John Church as to hold
out an appearance of their belonging to the same society.  After Church
having been held to bail for the purpose of being tried on charges not to
be named among Christians, he ought to have abstained from entering his
pulpit, and shunned the very light, until his character was cleared up to
the satisfaction of his congregation, who ought to have deemed it a
sacrilege to be present while he attempted to promulgate the doctrines of
Christ in a place of divine worship.  But one would think there was a
congeniality of sentiment and of _sympathy_ between the pastor and the
flock!  Indeed this latter remark is founded upon something more than
conjecture; for a great number of persons who are in the habit of
frequenting his chapel, have taken up the cause of their preacher with a
zeal that cannot easily be accounted for in any way but one.  They will
investigate no charge; they reject all evidence.

                                * * * * *

The following Confessional Letter, from Church, was sent to the great
surprise of the Rev. Mr. L—, two days after the offence had been
committed.  It appears that Church was but very slightly known to the
above gentleman, in consequence of some money transactions having passed
between them:—

    DEAR SIR—Surely upon the reception of this short note you will say,
    ah.  _Church_ is like all the rest of the parsons, promise much and
    do little, yea nothing: to your note I can only with a pained heart
    reply, _I cannot indeed_—I can scarcely write this note, my soul is
    too deeply pierced.  About eight or nine years ago Dr. Draper left
    the church in the Boro’, and God opened Chaple court for me, many
    attended and have been blest, now a singular providence but a most
    distressing one has occurred to take me shortly from my dear, dear
    family and beloved congregation.  But God has sent Mr. L— to preach
    all the truth to my poor dispersed flock, at least so it appears to
    me, and I would do all the good to promote the success of Mr. L— that
    my poor people might _not_ be starv’d till I return to them in peace,
    which may be many months.  My heart is broken, my enemies have ruined
    me at last, and I shall never, never surmount it, an unpleasant
    affair happening at Vauxhall, is _added_ too, and I must take the
    consequences: no arm can help, relieve, or deliver but the Lord’s,
    and I feel persuaded the Lord will _not_: judge my feelings if you
    can.  I shall secretly come and hear you, to get all the good I can
    to an heart deprest, disconsolate, and full of woe.  O the joy of my
    enemies!  O the distress of my friends!  O my poor heart!  Let a sigh
    go up to God for me when you can.

                                             Yours in the utmost distress,
                                                                     J. C.

The following are the remarks of the Gentleman to whom the above Letter
was addressed:—

    A self-sent divine and a beloved brother of the Reverend J. Church,
    whose name is T. A—, positively declared—(but a few weeks ago) that
    the very affectionate _Vere-street_ “Mr. Church kindly put his arms
    round my neck and kissed me twice, and asked me politely to sleep
    with him.”  Lord, what has sin done!  However the Reverend brother T.
    A. further adds, “I declined the latter offer, of course,” &c. but
    how far this statement may be true respecting his declining the
    latter offer, after his allowing that pious brute to kiss him twice,
    must be left with the reader to judge for himself, as I am confident
    that none but those _unclean birds_, of the _same nest_, would in any
    measure wish even the slightest credit to be given to such a filthy
    testimony, by such an _effeminate_ character as T. A.  Again, this
    brother in iniquity, when speaking of another brother, in the same
    line of uncleanness, whose name I understand is C—, who is a person
    very remarkable for using the words, (when speaking of his darling
    Church) “_bless him_,” being informed by his brother A. that brother
    Church was about to leave town, in order to evade further inquiries,
    the poor thing (_woman-like_) fainted and fell back against a wall;
    but his brother A. being near him, kindly took him by the hand and
    raised his drooping head (_dear lamb_), who, when he had a little
    recovered the shock, they affectionately walked off together, and the
    fainting brother took hold of his brother A.’s hand, (“bless him,”)
    rubbed it affectionately, and pressed it to his bosom, wishing to
    have a further intercourse with him!  Marvellous wickedness! may it
    not truly be said of such detestable monsters, in human shape, that
    God has given them over to vile affections and to all uncleanness,
    through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies
    between themselves.  Burning in their own lust one towards another,
    men with men, working that which is unseemly, and receiving in
    themselves that recompence of their error which is meet.  How truly
    awful and equally disgusting that such vile wretches should be
    permitted to stand up with a pretence to preach the Gospel, or that
    they should even profess to be believers in Jesus, as without all
    doubt the sin of which they stand justly charged, was invented by the
    arch fiend of Hell, to prevent the appearance of the seed of the
    woman, {15} who was to effectually bruize his head.  O! my soul, come
    not thou into their diabolical secret!  I would advise all the true
    followers of the meek and lowly Lamb of God, who may hitherto have
    been deceived as to the real character of Church and his brothers who
    worship with him at the Surrey Tabernacle, in the language of the
    Angel to Lot—

      “Haste, escape for thy life, tarry not in all the plain.”—See Gen.
                                   xix. 17.

Great credit is due to Mr. Patrick for the perseverance he has manifested
in bringing this hypocritical wretch to justice.  Unmindful of the
threats and abuse of a party, and not to be deterred by the heavy
expences attending such a prosecution, he has, at length, finally
triumphed over all the arts and intrigues that had been practised against
his obtaining the desirable end, namely, in tearing off the mask from
this _pretended pious_ preacher, and rendering him amenable to the
offended laws of his country.

It may not be improper to state one of the tricks made use of to throw
the prosecutor off his guard.  A limb of the law it appears, of the
_Jewish_ persuasion, _gratuitously_ offered to conduct the prosecution
for the young man; but upon a refusal being given to him, on account of
Mr. HARMER being selected for such purpose, it was ultimately discovered
that this _philanthropic_ Israelite had been exerting himself towards
exculpating Church, with all the ingenuity he was master of in his
defence, from the heinous offence alledged against him.  The “law’s
delay” was resorted to, but only to put off the trial till the next
assizes, but the expences materially increased, as a means of deterring
the prosecutor from proceeding.  It is however lamentable to observe,
that the charges in bringing such a wretch to justice, should amount to
eighty or ninety pounds!

The wife of Church, upon being made acquainted with his diabolical
propensities, became distracted, and was in a continual state of
intoxication, till death relieved this unfortunate woman from her
troubles.  But it appears that since he has been charged with the above
detestable offence, in order (we presume under the mask of hypocrisy,) to
rescue in some degree his character from the public odium with which it
had been marked, induced him to marry a respectable woman, who kept a
seminary for young ladies at Hammersmith.  The verdict of “Guilty” had
been scarcely pronounced, when the relatives of the children, with the
greatest promptitude possible, took them all away from the said school.

Notwithstanding the above confessional letter, (see page 14,) for the
authenticity of which we can vouch, having the original in our
possession, on the Sunday after it was sent, he had the audacity and
wickedness to stand up in his pulpit, and endeavour to calumniate his
accusers and assert his own innocence; but this effrontery, it seems, has
at length left him, since the verdict of twelve impartial men have
pronounced him guilty, that on Sunday last (Aug. 17.) he had not the
temerity again to face the numerous audience that had assembled both
within and without the walls of his chapel.

From the acknowledgment of this monster himself, the profits of this
_precious_ recepticle produced him from 1000_l._ to 1200_l._ annually.

                                * * * * *

         Printed by HAY and TURNER, 11, Newcastle-street, Strand.
                           OF WHOM MAY BE HAD,

THE ONLY GENUINE EDITION OF THE TRIAL OF ROGER O’CONNOR, ESQ.  At Meath
Assizes, August 4 and 5, 1817; on a charge of ROBBING THE GALWAY MAIL, by
a Person who had been Thrice Reprieved on Offering to Make Disclosures.
Taken by an Eminent Short Hand Writer.  With Mr. O’CONNOR’s Interesting
and Manly Address to the People of Ireland.  Price 4d.

The SPEECHES of Messrs. HUNT, WATSON, PRESTON, THISTLEWOOD, CLARKE, &c.
given at a Dinner at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, to celebrate the
Acquittal of the State Prisoners.  Price 4d.

The WHOLE of the TRIALS for HIGH TREASON at the Court of King’s Bench,
June 9.  Price 1s.

The POLITICAL CHARACTER of T. REYNOLDS, Esq. containing an Account of his
Transactions with the Rebellion in Ireland; with Observations on his
Testimony, by P. CURRAN, Esq.  Price 6d.




FOOTNOTES.


{11}  A Gentleman who happened to attend two or three times at Church’s
Meeting-house, took down the following sentences from his Sermons.  They
may gratify the curiosity of the reader.

    “God is frequently going forth, and we also are often going to the
    window to look for him; The more vile _I am_ made to appear to the
    _World_, the more God will _assist_ me.  Every citizen is a
    free-born.  Many have wondered how I could go thro’ so much trouble.
    There have been a great many that have wished to see me—I can inform
    them I had much rather they had wished to see Christ.  People may be
    laughed at for being fools, but you may depend upon it the more God
    will like them.  All that believe not will certainly be damned.  The
    duties of Christianity are not to be preached to an ungodly world;
    John Church is very much spoken of, but they had much better speak of
    Jesus; the people of the established church feel no spiritual joy.
    Spiritual discourse is enlivening to the senses, &c.  The bread of
    life is not to be given away to _Dogs_.  I am not going to turn
    auctioneer, but I am going to inform you that next Lord’s Day I am
    going to publish a book proving that God, the Son, and the Spirit,
    are all one great God.  My sermon will be good news and comfort to
    all poor sinners; Satan and all his spirits never sleeps; the power
    of life and death is only in the bands of our Lord Jesus Christ.
    Devils are allowed to harrass the people of God day and night—no
    wonder they perplex those they cant destroy.  People are mostly
    liable to fall in their first love into awful heresies and
    temptation.  All the Lord’s people do not see into the glory of my
    text—’tis like a jewel in a rock of Adamant.  The worst sin was the
    murdering of God’s saints.  When I sit in darkness the Lord will be a
    light onto me.  Many men laugh at the doctrine of the new birth—are
    there not many learned Doctors that know nothing of it?  Let a man
    come under any circumstances, I will receive him—Don’t laugh at the
    doctrine of inspiration; be wise, it has often been preached by our
    church—I am never tired of preaching; and I believe my dear brethren
    are never tired of hearing me.  If every one that is saved should be
    as bright as the sun, what a place Heaven must be, where there will
    be so many millions!  Angels beckon me away, and Christ bids me come.
    The sight of Christ, you may depend on’t, will be worth suffering
    for.  O that I had the voice of an archangel, I would indeed do
    wonders.  I doubt the inferiority of one angel over another in
    Heaven—Christ is entirely independent of or with God.  We must have
    the spirit of God before we are his people.  Believe in the
    predestination of eternal life, but not in eternal death; people that
    suffer were beforehand predestined so to do, _by_ God.  Bad or horrid
    is the religion of a proud Pharisee.  That religion that is preached
    by the people of God is God himself.  There can be no going forth
    until the spirit of God has entered.  The MOB is seldom stirred up
    but thro’ Priests; there is now a case of the very kind.  When envy
    bursts forth thro’ jealous and envious neighbouring _Priests_, and
    published by _Deists_, there can be nothing to fear; and I verily
    believe, that any thing prayed for to Christ will certainly be
    granted, as has always been the case with me.  Let us for ever
    endeavour to turn every thing, whether good or bad, into good.  I do
    not believe that God begot Jesus Christ—they say too that Joseph was
    an impostor at this very day:—every thing that is done against the
    church is done against Christ; also that which is done against Christ
    is done against the Church; and any thing done against the people of
    God is done against Christ.  It is a most blessed thing that we can
    throw our burthens upon Christ;—I do not care who hears me, whether
    God, or Man, Friends or Foes, Devils or Angels, or any thing else;
    and let them call me an Antinomian again if they please.  There must
    be spiritual life in the soul.  The Lord Jesus Christ and the people
    of God are one.  Christ has no sorrow but the people of God must
    sympathise with him; and the people of God have no affliction but
    that Christ sympathises with them.”

{15}  Gen. iii. 15.