The true history of the Kentish Lawyer

Old Mr. Studley was a lawyer in Kent, of about £400 a year.  He was a great enemy to godliness.  His son, in his youth, seemed to follow in the same steps, till the Lord, who had separated him from the womb, called him by his grace as follows:—The young man was at London, and being drunk in some company, and going in the night towards his lodging, fell into a cellar, and in the fall was seized with horror, and thought he fell into hell at that time.  It pleased God he took little harm by the fall, but lay there some hours in a drunken drowse; his body being heated with what he had drank, and his soul awakened, he thought he was actually in hell.  After he was come to himself, and got home into Kent, he became serious, betook himself to read, and study the Scriptures, and of much prayer, which at length his father perceived, and fearing he would turn puritan, was troubled and dealt roughly with him, making him dress his horses, which he humbly and willingly submitted to.  And when, at that time, his father perceived he sat up late at night, reading his Bible, he denied him candle-light; but being allowed a fire in his chamber, he used to lie along and read by the fire-light; and said, that while he was dressing his father’s horses in his frock, and when reading by the fire, he had those comforts from the Lord, and joys that he had scarce experienced since.  His father seeing these means ineffectual, resolved to send him into France, that by the manners of that country, his melancholy temper might be cured.  He went, and being at his own disposal, by the Lord’s guiding him, he placed himself in the house of a godly protestant minister; and between them, after they were acquainted, there grew great endearment.  Great progress he made in speaking the language; and his father expecting an account from the gentleman with whom he lived, of his proficiency in speaking French, he sent it to him; but soon after he had orders to return home; and (the father directing it, or he intreating it) the landlord, with whom he had lived, came into England with him, and both were made very welcome at his father’s house, he not knowing that he was a minister.  At last the father caught the French gentleman and his son at prayers together, and was angry; paid him what was due to him, and sent him away.  Then his father having an interest with a person of quality, a great lady at Whitehall, and his son by his education being accomplished for such an employ, prevailed with that lady to take his son for her gentleman or attendant.  He thought by a court life to drive away his melancholy, as he called his son’s seriousness in religion.  The lady had many servants, some given to swearing and rudeness, whom this young gentleman would reprove, with that prudence and gravity, that sin fell down before him; and if any of the servants had been ill-employed, and heard him coming, they would Say—Let us cease, or begone, Mr. Studley is coming.  After a year’s time, his father waited upon the lady, to enquire of his son’s conduct.—She answered, that she was glad she had seen his son’s face: he had wrought a mighty reformation in her family; she that had formerly been troubled with unruly servants, by his prudent carriage it was now as quiet in her house as if she lived in a private family in the country.  At this the father stormed.  What, will he make puritans in Whitehall?  He told the lady that was no place for his son; he would take him with him; which to her grief he did.  When he had him at home in Kent, as his last refuge, he thought of marrying him; and to that end found out a match which he thought fit for his ends, to stifle that work of religion in his son.  He bade him one night put on his clothes early in the morning, and ordered his servant to make ready their horses and himself, to wait upon them.  When they were riding on the way, he bade the man ride before, and spake to his son to this purpose:—Son, you have been the cause of great grief to me; and having used many means to reclaim you from the way you are in to no purpose, I have one more remedy to apply, in which if you comply with me I shall settle my estate upon you, else you shall never enjoy a groat of it.  I am riding to such a gentleman’s house, to whose daughter I intend to marry you.  The son said little, knowing that family to be profane, but went with his father, who before had made way there.  They were entertained nobly; he had a sight of the young lady, a great beauty, and the young man fell much in love with her.  When they had taken their leave, on his way his father asked him, What he thought of her?  He answered, No man living but what must be taken with such an one, he feared she would not like him.  The father was glad it had taken, and bid him take no care for that.  The wooing was not long; at three weeks end they both came to London to buy things for the wedding.  The father had charged, that in the time of the wooing in that gentleman’s house, there should be no swearing or open wickedness, lest his son should be discouraged.  Wedding-clothes were bought, the day came, and the young people were married.  At the wedding-dinner, at her father’s house, the mask was taken off; they fell to drinking healths, and swearing over their cups; and, amongst others, the bride swore an oath.  At which the bridegroom as a man amazed, rose from the table, stepped forth, and went to the stable, took an horse, none observing, as all were busy within; he mounted, and rode away, not knowing what to do.  He bewailed himself as he rode along, as undone, and deservedly; for that he had been so taken in love, and the business so hurried on by design; he said he had at that time neglected prayer, and slackened his communion with God, when, as in that grand affair of his life, he should have been doubly and trebly serious, and so might thank himself that he was utterly undone.  He sometimes thought of riding quite away.  At last, being among the woods, he led his horse into a solitary place, tied him to a tree in his distress, and betook himself to his prayers and tears, in which he spent the afternoon.  The providence of God had altered his argument of prayer, which was now for the conversion of his new-married wife, or he was undone.  This he intreated, and did not rise from prayer without good hope of being heard.  At the bride’s house was hurry enough: horse and man after they missed the bridegroom, sent every way, but no news of him.  He was wrestling as Jacob once at Peniel.

In the evening he returned, and enquiring where his bride was, went up to her, and found her in her chamber pensive enough.  She asked him if he had done well to expose her to scorn and derision all the day?  He intreated her to sit down upon a couch there by him, and he would give her an account of his doing what he had then done, and tell her the story of his whole life, and what the Lord through grace had done for him.  He went over the story above-mentioned, not without great affection and tears, the flood gates of which had been opened in the wood, and often in his discourse would say, through grace God did so and so for me.  When he had told her his story, she asked him what he meant by those words, “through grace?”  He replied to this effect, that he meant the unmerited favor of God, through Christ Jesus; she then enquired if he thought there were no grace in God for her, who was so wretched a stranger to God?  Yes, my dear, said he, there is grace for thee, and that I have been praying for this day in the wood; and God hath heard my prayer, and seen my tears, and let us now go together to him about it.  Then did they kneel down by the couch side, and he prayed; and such weeping and supplication was there on both sides, that when they were called down to supper, they had hardly eyes to see with, so swelled were they with weeping.  At supper the bride’s father (according to his custom,) swore.  The bride immediately said—Father, I beseech you, swear not.  At which the bridegroom’s father, in a great rage, rose from table: What, says he, is the devil in him! hath he made his wife a puritan already? and swore bitterly that he would rather set fire (with his own hands) to the four corners of his fair-built house, than ever he should enjoy it.  And accordingly he acted, made his will, in which he left his son ten pounds, and gave the estate to some others, of whom Dr. Reeves was one, and not long after died.  Dr. Reeves sent for the gentleman, paid him his ten pounds, told him he had been a rebellious son, and disobliged his father, and might thank himself.  He received the ten pounds, and meekly departed.

His wife (the match was so huddled up) had no portion promised, at least that he knew of, who relied on his father, so that she was also deserted by her friends; and having £200 in her own hands, that had been given her by a grandmother, with that they took and stocked a farm in Sussex, where she who had been highly bred, has been often seen in a red waistcoat, milking her cows, and became the great comforter and encourager of her husband.  God, saith she, hath had mercy on me, and any pains taking is now pleasant to me.  There they lived some years with much comfort, and had the blessings of marriage, divers children.  After some few years, he was met in Kent, on the road, by one of the tenants of the estate, and saluted by the name of landlord.  Alas, said he, I am none of your landlord.  Yes, you are, said he, I know more than you do of the settlement.  Your father, though a cunning lawyer, with all his wit, could not alienate the estate from you, whom he had made a joint purchaser.  Myself and some other tenants know it, and have refused to pay any money to Dr. Reeves.  I have some money ready for you in my hands, which I will pay to your acquitance, and that will serve you to wage law with them.  He was amazed at this wonderful Providence, received the money, sued for his estate, and recovered it.  “He that loseth his life (saith Christ) for my sake and the gospel’s shall find it.”  His godly wife, enjoying a loving husband, several fine children, and a handsome estate, in the midst of these outward blessings, fell into a way of questioning the truth of her grace, because of her outward prosperity.  This was her sin without doubt, for which a friend rebuked her; but it was a severe rebuke that the Lord gave her for her unthankfulness; a fine boy, about three years old, fell into a kettle of scalding wort, and was taken out by his mother, and died.  This she looked on as the Lord’s discipline for her unthankfulness, and was instructed.

London:—Printed and sold by J. Evans and Son, Long-lane, sold also by F. Collins, 60, Paternoster-row; and by J. Nisbet, 16, Castle Street, Oxford Street.