Part III (part 1 of 2)

Part III (part 1 of 2)

1761.

Distinguished Men—England from 1760 to 1791—Newgate Prison—Westminster Journal—London Methodists—Methodism’s first Female Preacher—Journey to the North—Real Antinomian Methodists—James Relly—Rev. Henry Venn’s Irregularities—Separation from the Church—Methodism in Aberdeen—Letter to Mrs. Hall—John MacGowan—Methodism in Darlington, Yarm, Scarborough, Otley, Bingley, Rotherham, etc.—Wesley admonishing an Itinerant—Alexander Coates—A Compromise—Conference in London—Original Letter by J. Manners—Christian Perfection—London Magazine—Lloyd’s Evening Post—St. James’s Chronicle—Two Sermons before University of Oxford—Wesley’s Publications—Methodist Tunes and Singing 393-430

1762.

Rev. Benjamin Colley—Christian Perfection—Thomas Maxfield—George Bell—Wesley admonishing Fanatics—Sad Confusion—A false Prophecy—“Philodemas”—Good educed from Evil—Cautions to greatest Professors—Maxfield’s Whinings—End of Bell—Wesley and his Brother on Christian Perfection—Wesley at Everton—Wesley in Ireland—A starving Player—Methodist Professors of Sanctification—Conference at Leeds—A Cornish Magistrate—Letters on Christian Perfection—Hostile Publications—Wesley’s Publications 431-458

1763.

Wesley the only Clerical Itinerant—Letters in London Chronicle—Fanatical Methodists—Wesley’s Friends desert him—Rev. J. Fletcher—Rev. W. Romaine—“Farther Thoughts on Christian Perfection”—Advice to the Sanctified—Distress in London—“Society for the Reformation of Manners”—A “Pious Fraud”—Scottish Ladies—Methodism in Edinburgh, Dunbar, Barnard castle, etc.—Letter from Dr. Conyers—“A kind of Gentleman”—Matthew Mayer—Conference Minutes, between 1753 and 1763—Howel Harris at Conference of 1763—Welsh Jumpers—Danger of rich Methodists—Methodism in Norwich and London—Rev. Jacob Chapman—Dr. Byrom—Increase of Methodism creates a Difficulty—Erasmus and his Ordination—Wesley and Dr. Rutherforth—Wesley and Bishop Warburton—Jane Cooper—Wesley’s Publications 459-496

1764.

Whitefield in Ill Health—The half insane Watchmaker—Blandford Park—Oratorios—Wesley on his northern Journey—Unpublished Letter by Wesley to Lady Maxwell—An adventurous Ride—Riding in Carriages—Difficulty—Unpublished Letter by Wesley to Countess of Huntingdon—Proposed Clerical Union—On Consecrating Churches—Defraying Debts on London Chapels—Proposed new Theatre at Bristol—A Pastoral Address—A Methodist Orphanage—Rev. Thomas Hartley—The Mystics—Millenarianism—Attacks on Methodism—Wesley’s last letter to Hervey—Hervey’s “Eleven Letters to Wesley”—Old Friends divided—Quarrelling and its Results—Letters to Thomas Rankin—Methodist Manifesto 497-533

1765.

Methodism at High Wycombe—A Long Tour—Alexander Knox, Esq.—Opinions and essential Doctrines—Conference of 1765—Methodism at Huddersfield—Important Letter to Rev. H. Venn—Disgraceful Scene in Devonshire—Faults of Cornish Methodism—Professors of Sanctification—Captain Webb—Methodism in Kent—A serious Accident—“Mumbo Chumbo”—“The Scripture Way of Salvation”—Imputed Righteousness—Celibacy—Wesley’s “Notes on the Old Testament” 534-554

1766.

Methodism at Yarmouth—A quadruple Alliance—Horace Walpole on Wesley—Methodism in Bath, Cheltenham, Burton on Trent, Nottingham, and Sheffield—Christian Perfection—Unpublished Letters by Fletcher and Wesley—Methodism at Warrington—Trust Deed of Pitt Street Chapel, Liverpool—Chapel Architects—Wesley in Scotland—An Adventure—A mad Woman in Weardale—Letter to the Dean of Ripon—A vindictive Parson—An odd Mistake—Methodism at Pateley Bridge, Bradford, Halifax, and Haworth—Coolness between Wesley and his Brother—Are Methodists Dissenters?—Methodist public Worship—Wesley’s autocratic Power—An unflattering Picture of the Methodists—Pastoral Visitation—The Way to make Useless Preachers Useful—Conference of 1766—A Mob Defeated—Methodism at Helstone—Methodist Soldiers at Northampton—Miss Lewen—Attacks on Methodism—“Plain Account of Christian Perfection” 555-594

1767.

Whitefield—Letter to C. Wesley—Wesley and Dr. Dodd—Irish Superstition—Wesley in Ireland—Methodist Success—Letter to Lady Maxwell—Wesley defending the Methodists—First Methodist Missionary Collection—First Methodist Chapel in America—Methodist Statistics in 1767—Yorkshire Methodism—“Primitive Methodism”—Conference of 1767—Chapel Debts—Wesley on the Wing—Methodism in Sheerness—“Methodism Triumphant”—“The Troublers of Israel”—Smuggling—Wesley’s Publications 595-618

THE LIFE AND TIMES

OF

THE REV. JOHN WESLEY, M.A.

1748.

[Sidenote: 1748 Age 45]

Wesley writes: “January 1, 1748.—We began the year at four in the morning, with joy and thanksgiving. The same spirit was in the midst of us, both at noon and in the evening.”

On January 25, he set out for Bristol, and at Longbridge-Deverill, three miles from Warminster, by being thrown from his horse, had a narrow escape from an untimely death. These dangers and escapes were numerous and remarkable. Near Shepton-Mallet, while descending a steep bank, he had another accident of a similar kind to the former, his horse and himself tumbling one over the other, and imperilling the lives of both. And, a few weeks later, when in Ireland, his horse became restive and “fell head over heels.” With almost literal exactness might Wesley have made the apostle’s language his own: “In journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness; besides those things that are without, that which cometh upon us daily, the care of all the churches.”

The chapel at Bristol, though built only nine years ago, was in great danger of falling upon the people’s heads; and, moreover, it was now too small to accommodate the congregation attending. Accordingly, Wesley took instant steps to repair and to enlarge the building, and obtained a subscription of £230, towards defraying the expense.

While here, he also made a visit to Shepton-Mallet, where a hired and drunken mob pelted him and his companion, Robert Swindells, with “dirt, stones, and clods in abundance”; broke the windows of the house in which they were staying, took it by storm, and threatened to make it a heap of burning ruins.

Still, the Methodist revival spread. Writing to his friend Blackwell, under the date of February 2, Wesley says:—“Both in Ireland, and in many parts of England, the work of our Lord increases daily. At Leeds only, the society, from a hundred and eighty, is increased to above five hundred persons.”[1]

Charles Wesley and Charles Perronet had been in Ireland for the last six months, and, on the Moravians being ejected from the chapel in Skinner’s Alley, had become the tenants of that building. They had made an excursion to Tyrrell’s Pass, and, from among proverbial swearers, drunkards, thieves, and sabbath breakers, had formed a society of nearly one hundred persons. At Athlone, a gang of ruffians knocked Jonathan Healey off his horse, beat him with a club, and were about to murder him with a knife, when a poor woman, from her hut, came to his assistance, and, for her interference, was half killed with a blow from a heavy whip. The hedges were all lined with papists; the dragoons came out, the mob fled, Healey was rescued, and was taken into the woman’s cabin, where Charles Wesley found him in his blood, and attended to his wounds. A congregation of above two thousand assembled in the market; Charles Wesley preached to them from the window of a ruined house; and then the knot of brave-hearted Methodists marched to the field of battle, stained with Healey’s blood, and sang a song of triumph and of praise to God.

Having completed his business at Bristol, Wesley, on the 15th of February, started for Ireland, but the weather was such, that three weeks elapsed before he was able to set sail from Holyhead. Winds were boisterous, and snow lay thick upon the ground; but, on the way, besides preaching in churches, chapels, and roadside inns, Wesley, at Builth and other places, took his stand in the open air, immense congregations making surrounding woods and mountains echo, as they sung:—

“Ye mountains and vales, In praises abound; Ye hills and ye dales, Continue the sound; Break forth into singing, Ye trees of the wood, For Jesus is bringing Lost sinners to God.”

Attending a service in the Welsh language, he wrote: “What a curse was the confusion of tongues! and how grievous are the effects of it! All the birds of the air, all the beasts of the field, understand the language of their own species. Man only is a barbarian to man, unintelligible to his own brethren!”

At length, Wesley, accompanied by Robert Swindells and the Rev. Mr. Meriton, set sail, and, on March 8, arrived in Dublin, where they found Charles Wesley meeting the society, the members of which made so much noise in shouting, and in praising God, that, for a time, Wesley was unable to obtain a hearing.

Charles returned to England. Wesley spent the next ten weeks in Ireland. These were long absences, to which the leaders in London objected; but Wesley’s almost prophetic answer was, “Have patience, and Ireland will repay you.”[2]

Wesley’s first business was to begin preaching at five o’clock in the morning, “an unheard of thing in Ireland”; his next, to inquire into the state of the Dublin society. He writes: “Most pompous accounts had been sent me, from time to time, of the great numbers added; so that I confidently expected to find six or seven hundred members. And how is the real fact? I left three hundred and ninety-four members; and I doubt if there are now three hundred and ninety-six.” This seems to be a reflection on his brother; but was there not a cause? Ten days later, he remarks: “I finished the classes, and found them just as I expected. I left three hundred and ninety-four persons united together in August; I had now admitted between twenty and thirty, who had offered themselves since my return to Dublin; and the whole number is neither more nor less than three hundred and ninety-six.” He adds: “Let this be a warning to us all, how we give in to that hateful custom of painting things beyond the life. Let us make a conscience of magnifying or exaggerating anything. Let us rather speak under, than above, the truth. We, of all men, should be punctual in all we say, that none of our words may fall to the ground.”

At Philip’s Town, “a poor, dry, barren place,” he found a society, of whom forty were troopers.[3] At Tullamore, he preached to most of the inhabitants of the town; and at Clara, to “a vast number of well behaved people, some of whom came in their coaches, and were of the best quality in the country.” At Athlone, he writes: “Almost all the town appeared to be moved, full of good will and desires of salvation; but I found not one under any strong conviction, much less had any one attained the knowledge of salvation, in hearing above thirty sermons.”

At Birr, he preached “in the street, to a dull, rude, senseless multitude.” A Carmelite friar cried out, “You lie! you lie!” but the protestants present cried, “Knock the friar down”; and Wesley adds, “it was no sooner said than done.”

At Aughrim, he heard “a warm sermon against enthusiasts”; and, to the same congregation, preached another as an antidote. Mr. Simpson, a magistrate, invited him to dinner; and he, and his wife and daughter, were the first at Aughrim to join the Methodists.[4]

These and other places were soon formed into a circuit, extending on the Leinster side as far as Tyrrell’s Pass and Mountmellick, and on the Connaught side as far as Ballinrobe, Castlebar, and Sligo, the quarterly meetings being held at Coolylough, the residence of Mr. Handy, where hospitable entertainment was abundantly provided, and many a season of spiritual refreshing was religiously enjoyed.[5]

In Dublin, the Methodists had two meeting-houses, one in Dolphin Barn Lane, and the other in Skinner’s Alley; but they were both rented, and therefore of uncertain tenure. Wesley was not satisfied with this, and used his utmost endeavours to obtain a freehold site, for the erection of a chapel of his own. On the 15th of March, he wrote to Ebenezer Blackwell as follows: “We have not found a place yet that will suit us for building. Several we have heard of, and seen some; but they are all leasehold land, and I am determined to have freehold, if it is to be had in Dublin; otherwise we must lie at the mercy of our landlord whenever the lease is to be renewed.”[6]

Some time after, the freehold site was obtained, and, with Mr. Lunell’s munificent assistance, the first Methodist meeting-house in Dublin was erected in Whitefriar Street, and was opened for public worship in 1752.

Wesley returned to England at the end of the month of May, and on the 2nd of June, and three or four, following days, held, in London, his annual conference. The number present was twenty-three, including about half-a-dozen clergymen, three stewards, some local preachers, and Howel Harris.

At the opening of the conference, it was agreed that there would be no time to consider points of doctrine, and therefore that the attention of those present should be wholly confined to discipline.

The principle was reiterated, that, wherever they preached, they should form societies. They were to visit the poor members of society as much as the rich. Every alternate society-meeting in London, Bristol, Kingswood, and Newcastle, was to be kept inviolably private. At the other meetings strangers might be admitted with caution. It was thought, that they were in danger of making too long prayers, and it was agreed that, though exceptional cases must arise, yet, in general, they would do well not to pray in public above eight or ten minutes at a time. Directions were given to the assistants to guard against jealousy and envy, and against despising each other’s gifts. They were to try to avoid popularity, that is, “the gaining a greater degree of esteem or love from the people than is for the glory of God.” They were to examine the leaders of classes, and were to send to the Wesleys a circumstantial account of every remarkable conversion, and of every triumphant death. Assisted by the stewards, they were, every Easter, to make exact lists of all the members in each of the nine circuits into which the societies were divided, and to send the lists to the ensuing conference.[7]

In addition to these matters, there was another debated, of great interest and importance. Five years before, Wesley had published his “Thoughts on Marriage and Celibacy,” in which, to say the least, he strongly commended a single life. His brother Charles was now courting Miss Sarah Gwynne, and wished to marry her. Charles writes:—“How know I, whether it be best for me to marry, or no? Certainly better now than later; and, if not now, what security that I shall not then? It should be now, or not at all.” This was sound sense. Charles was now forty years old, and, like a wise man, he concluded, that he must either marry now, or never. Before he left Ireland, he communicated his intentions to his brother; and, in the month of April, he rode to Shoreham, and “told all his heart” to Vincent Perronet.[8] Difficulties existed. Among others, there was his brother’s tract. The Conference of 1747 had agreed to read all the tracts which had been published, and to make a note of everything that was thought objectionable. The Conference of 1748 was about to meet, and, of course, had a perfect right to review and to revise the “Thoughts on Marriage.” The question was introduced, and the result of the discussion upon Wesley’s mind may be found in the following sentence from a manuscript in the British Museum, which, though not written by Wesley, was corrected by him. “In June, 1748, we had a conference in London. Several of our brethren then objected to the ‘Thoughts on Marriage’; and, in a full and friendly debate, convinced me, that a believer might marry without suffering loss in his soul.” This was a great point gained. Charles’s courtship proceeded; and, in April, 1749, John writes: “Saturday, April 8.—I married my brother and Sarah Gwynne. It was a solemn day, such as became the dignity of a Christian marriage.” A stranger said, it looked more like a funeral than a wedding; but Charles remarks, “We were cheerful without mirth, serious without sadness; and my brother seemed the happiest person among us.”[9]

A few days after the conference was closed, Wesley and his brother proceeded to Bristol for the purpose of opening Kingswood school.

Kingswood school! a sacred spot, surrounded with unequalled Methodistic memories; once one of the homes of the Wesleys and their friends; the place of not a few remarkable revivals of religion; an academic grove, whose scenery was at first beautiful and inviting, and from which have issued many of the most distinguished ministers that Methodism has ever had, and not a few highly accomplished scholars, whose names stand honourably associated with the legal and other high professions, and with England’s chief seats of learning; an upretending edifice, with associations to which no other Methodist building (except the Broadmead meeting-house in Bristol) can make pretensions; for above half a century Methodism’s only college; to the end of life one of Wesley’s favourite haunts; the alma mater of scores still living, who will always love its memory; a homestead in which Methodism lingered perhaps as long as was expedient; and which, when Methodism left it, in 1852, became a place of discipline for young thieves and vagabonds, a reformatory for youthful criminals, whose presence in public society was a nuisance and a curse, and yet whose minds and morals were most likely to be improved, not in a prison, but in a school.

We have already seen, that Wesley built a school at Kingswood in 1740. Myles, in his Chronological History, says, that the school opened in 1748 was the old school “enlarged;”[10] and that, though the school commenced in 1740 was intended for the children of colliers, yet, for some years, several of the Methodists in other places had sent their children to be educated here.[11]

This was an encroachment upon Wesley’s original design, but one which he had no disposition to resist. Besides this, he found it necessary to make some provision for the education of the children of his preachers. Their fathers were almost constantly from home. Their mothers, in many cases, were unequal to their management. Funds did not exist to send them to a boarding school. And hence Wesley found it imperative to provide a school himself.

To meet this necessity, he “enlarged” the existing school at Kingswood, an unknown lady giving him £800 towards defraying the expenses.[12] The school for the children of the colliers was not closed. It continued to exist for more than sixty years subsequent to the period of which we are writing, and was supported by the subscriptions of the Kingswood society.[13] But now, in 1748, another school, for another class of children, was attached to this, and really became the Kingswood school, so famed in Methodistic annals, and whose memory will last as long as Methodism lasts.

Wesley selected Kingswood for his school because “it was private, remote from all high roads, on a small hill sloping to the west, sheltered from the east and north, and affording room for large gardens.” He made it capable of accommodating fifty children, besides masters and servants; reserving one room and a small study for himself.[14] On the front of the building was placed a tablet, with the inscription, “In Gloriam Dei Optimi Maximi, in Usum Ecclesiæ et Reipublicæ”; and under this, “Jehovah Jireh,” in Hebrew characters.[15] The great defect of the situation was the want of water. Vincent Perronet, in a letter to Walter Sellon, in 1752, writes: “My dear brother John Wesley wonders at the bad taste of those, who seem not to be in raptures with Kingswood school. If there was no other objection, but the want of good water upon the spot, this would be insuperable to all wise men, except himself and his brother Charles.”[16] For more than a hundred years, this was a radical defect, and was one of the chief reasons which induced the Conference to remove the school to another place in 1852.

It has been already stated, that the school was designed not only for the sons of preachers, but for the children of those Methodists who were able and wishful to give their offspring an education, superior to that imparted in the villages or towns in which they respectively resided. If it be asked, why Wesley did not advise such Methodists to send their children to the boarding schools then existing? the answer is—1. Because most of these schools were in large towns, to which he greatly objected. 2. Because all sorts of children, religious and irreligious, were admitted. 3. Because, in many instances, the masters were regardless of the principles and practice of Christianity, and were utterly indifferent whether their scholars were papists or protestants, Turks or Christians. 4. Because, in most of the great schools, the education given was exceedingly defective, and the class books were imperfect in style and sense, and, in some cases, absolutely profane and polluting.[17]

For such reasons, Wesley opened his new school in Kingswood, on the 24th of June, 1748, by preaching on the text, “Train up a child,” etc.; after which he and his brother administered the sacrament to the crowd who had come from distant places; and then drew up the scholastic rules, which were published soon after.

The object of the school was “to train up children in every branch of useful learning.” None but boarders were to be admitted, and “these were to be taken in, between the years of six and twelve, in order to be taught reading, writing, arithmetic, English, French, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, history, geography, chronology, rhetoric, logic, ethics, geometry, algebra, physics, and music.” They were all to “be brought up in the fear of God; and at the utmost distance, as from vice in general, so in particular from idleness and effeminacy.” Wesley adds: “The children of tender parents, so called (who are indeed offering up their sons and their daughters unto devils), have no business here; for the rules will not be broken, in favour of any person whatsoever. Nor is any child received unless his parents agree that he shall observe all the rules of the house; and that they will not take him from school, no, not a day, till they take him for good and all.”

Wesley’s design, in founding the school, was, in the highest degree, benevolent and pure; but some of his rules were as absurd as inexperienced philosophy could make them. The diet, consisting of bacon, beef, and mutton, bread and butter, greens, water gruel, and apple dumplings, was unexceptionable. Going to bed at eight, and sleeping on mattresses, were also commendable arrangements. But what can be said of the rule, that every child was to rise, the year round, at four o’clock, and spend the time till five in private, reading, singing, meditating, and praying? Who will defend the rule, that no play days were to be permitted, and no time allowed, on any day, for play, on the ground that he who plays when he is a child will play when he becomes a man? What again about the rule, that every child, if healthy, should fast every Friday till three o’clock in the afternoon? No wonder that Wesley complains of his rules being habitually broken. With such a programme, the school became to him a source of inexpressible annoyance. Children were removed by their parents, and some were dismissed as incorrigible. Enforced religion created a disgust for it, and this imperious way of making saints, in some instances, made the children hypocrites.

At five every morning, they attended public religious service, and again at seven every night. At six, they breakfasted; at seven, school began; at eleven, they walked or worked; at twelve, they dined, and then worked in the garden or sang till one; from one till five, they were again in school; from five to six, was their hour for private prayer; and from six to seven, they again walked or worked; when they all had supper on bread and butter, and milk by turns; and at eight, marched off to bed. On Sundays, they dressed and breakfasted at six; at seven, learnt hymns or poems; at eight, attended public service; at nine, went to the parish church; at one, dined and sang; at two, attended public service; and at four, were privately instructed. Six masters were employed; one for teaching French, two for reading and writing, and three for the ancient languages. The charge for each boy’s board and education, including books, pens, ink, and paper, was £14 a year.[18] Walter Sellon, John Jones, and James Roquet, all of whom obtained ordination in the Established Church, together with Richard Moss, Monsieur Grou, and William Spencer were the first batch of masters.[19]

Does history record a school parallel to Wesley’s school at Kingswood? We doubt it. It will often require notice in succeeding chapters; but suffice it to add here, that, for a few months at least, the school was worked to Wesley’s satisfaction. In August, several of the boys were converted;[20] and in October, the housekeeper, in a letter to Wesley, wrote:—“The spirit of this family is a resemblance of the household above. They are given up to God, and pursue but the one great end. If any is afraid this school will eclipse others, or that it will train up soldiers to proclaim open war against the god of this world, I believe it is not a groundless fear. If God continue to bless us, one of these little ones shall chase a thousand. I doubt not but, from this obscure spot, there will arise ambassadors for the King of kings.”[21]

On June 27, three days after the opening of Kingswood school, Wesley set out for the north of England. On his way, he preached at Wallbridge “to a lively congregation”; and at Stanley, “in farmer Finch’s orchard.” He spent two days at dear old Epworth; preached four times; heard Mr. Romley, whose “smooth, tuneful voice,” so often used in blaspheming the work of God, was now nearly lost; and received the sacrament from Mr. Hay, the rector. The Methodist society, though not large, had been useful, and sabbath breaking and drunkenness, cursing and swearing, were hardly known. At Hainton, “chiefly owing to the miserable diligence of the poor rector,” the congregation was small. At Coningsby, he preached to one of the largest congregations he had seen in Lincolnshire, and disputed, for an hour and a half, with a Baptist minister upon baptism. At Grimsby, the congregation not only filled the room, but the stairs and adjoining rooms, and many stood in the street below, notwithstanding Mr. Prince had bitterly cursed the poor Methodists in the name of the Lord. At Laseby, he had “a small, earnest congregation”; and, at Crowle, a wilder one than he had lately seen. Thus preaching at almost every place where he halted, he reached Newcastle on Saturday, July 9.

Here, and in all the country societies round about, he found an increase of members, and more of the life and power of religion among them, than he had ever found before. The boundaries of the Newcastle circuit were,—Allandale on the west, Sunderland on the east, Berwick on the north, and Osmotherley on the south,[22]—an immense tract of country, situated in, at least, four different counties. This Wesley traversed, preaching, visiting classes, and founding societies.

Having spent more than five weeks among these northern Methodists, Wesley, on the 16th of August, started southwards, taking Grace Murray with him, to whom he had proposed marriage. During the first day’s journey, he preached at Stockton, near the market place, “to a very large and very rude congregation;” again in the market place at Yarm; and again, in the midst of a continuous rain, in the street at Osmotherley.

Proceeding to Wakefield, he became the guest of Francis Scott, a local preacher, part of whose joiner’s shop was used as a preaching room.[23] Thence he went to Halifax, where he attempted to preach at the market cross to “an immense number of people, roaring like the waves of the sea.” A man threw money among the crowd, creating great disturbance. Wesley was besmeared with dirt, and had his cheek laid open by a stone. Finding it impossible to make himself heard, he adjourned to a meadow near Salterhebble, and spent an hour with those that followed him “in rejoicing and praising God.”[24] He then went to Bradford, where the only person who misbehaved was the parish curate.

At Haworth, even at five o’clock in the morning, the church was nearly filled. Grimshaw read prayers, and Wesley preached. A Methodist society was already formed, as appears from the following item in the Haworth society book:—“1748, Jan. 10: A pair of boots for William Darney, 14_s._ 0_d._”[25] Grimshaw was now as much a Methodist as Wesley was, with this difference, the former had a church, the latter not.

For six years, Grimshaw had been incumbent of Haworth. His church was crowded, and no wonder. In the surrounding hamlets, he was accustomed to preach from twelve to thirty sermons weekly. His congregations were rude and rough; but they caught the fervour of his spirit, and hundreds of his hearers were converted. He loved labour, and, for his Master’s sake, cheerfully encountered hard living. One day he would be the guest of Lady Huntingdon; at another time, he would be found sleeping in his own hayloft, simply to find room for strangers in his parsonage. In all sorts of weather, upon the bleak mountains, often drenched by rain, or benumbed by frost, with no regular meals, and frequently nothing better than a crust, he never wearied in his evangelistic wanderings, but pursued his onward course with a blithesome spirit, singing praises to his Divine Redeemer. His dress was plain, and sometimes shabby. Often he had literally only one coat and one pair of shoes, not from affectation, or eccentricity, but from a benevolent desire to benefit the poor. Possessed of strong mental power, and with a Cambridge education, he was capable of rising above the rank of ordinary preachers; but, to accommodate himself to his rustic hearers, there was a homeliness in his forms of speech, which was sometimes scarcely dignified. He preached in the same style as that in which Albert Durer painted. His power in prayer was marvellous. “He was like a man with his feet on earth and his soul in heaven.” As one of Wesley’s “assistants,” he visited classes, gave tickets, held lovefeasts, attended quarterly meetings, entertained the “itinerants,” and let them preach in the kitchen of his parsonage. He was oft eccentric, but always honest, earnest, and devout. Strong of frame, and robust in health, his study was under the wide canopy of heaven, among hills and dales; and the weariness of his wanderings was relieved by Divinely imparted thoughts, and communings with his God. He died April 7, 1763; some of his last words being, “I am as happy as I can be on earth, and as sure of heaven as if I was in it.” He was a rare man; and in him was fully exemplified his favourite motto, which was inscribed upon his coffin, “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

In the same neighbourhood was another man, who, though not so eminent, deserves honourable mention,—Thomas Colbeck, of Keighley, now twenty-five years of age, long a faithful and laborious local preacher, and whose memory is still precious among the west Yorkshire mountains. He was one of Grimshaw’s faithful travelling companions; and, by his instrumentality, Methodism was introduced into not a few of the villages in the neighbourhood where he lived. His house was Wesley’s home, and the resting place of Wesley’s itinerants. While praying with a person afflicted with a fever he caught the infection, and died on November 5, 1779.[26]

On leaving Haworth, Wesley proceeded to Roughlee, a village in the vicinity of Colne, Grimshaw and Colbeck going with him. While Wesley was preaching, a drunken rabble came, with clubs and staves, led on by a deputy constable, who said he was come for the purpose of taking Wesley to a justice of the peace at Barrowford. Wesley went with him. On the way a miscreant struck him in the face; another threw a stick at his head; and a third cursed and swore, and flourished his club about Wesley’s person as if he meant to murder him. On reaching the public house, where his worship was waiting, he was required to promise not to come to Roughlee again. He answered, he would sooner cut off his head than make such a promise. For above two hours, he was detained in the magisterial presence; but, at length, he was allowed to leave. The deputy constable went with him. The mob followed with oaths, curses, and stones. Wesley was beaten to the ground, and was forced back into the house. Grimshaw and Colbeck were used with the utmost violence, and covered with all kinds of sludge. Mr. Mackford, who had come with Wesley from Newcastle, was dragged by the hair of his head, and sustained injuries from which he never fully recovered. Some of the Methodists, who were present, were beaten with clubs; others were trampled in the mire; one was forced to leap from a rock ten or twelve feet high, into the river; and others had to run for their lives, amidst all sorts of missiles thrown after them. The magistrate saw all this; and, so far from attempting to hinder it, seemed well pleased with the murderous proceedings. Next day Wesley wrote him as follows:—“All this time you were talking of justice and law! Alas, sir, suppose we were Dissenters (which I deny), suppose we were Jews or Turks, are we not to have the benefit of the laws of our country! Proceed against us by the law, if you can or dare; but not by lawless violence; not by making a drunken, cursing, swearing, riotous mob, both judge, jury, and executioner. This is flat rebellion against God and the king, as you may possibly find to your cost.”

This horrible outrage was chiefly fomented by a popish renegado, who was now the curate of Colne. The following proclamation for raising mobs against the Methodists was issued:—

“NOTICE is hereby given, that if any men be mindful to enlist into his majesty’s service, under the command of the Rev. George White, commander-in-chief, and John Bannister, lieutenant-general of his majesty’s forces, for the defence of the Church of England, and the support of the manufactory in and about Colne, both of which are now in danger, etc., etc., let them now repair to the drumhead at the cross, where each man shall have a pint of ale for advance, and other proper encouragements.”[27]

Besides this, White, within the last month, had preached an inflammatory sermon which, at the end of the year, was published, with a dedicatory epistle to the Archbishop of Canterbury. The title is, “A Sermon against the Methodists, preached at Colne and Marsden, to a very numerous audience; by George White, M.A., minister of Colne and Marsden; and author of ‘Mercurius Latinus.’ Published at the request of the audience.” Octavo, 24 pages.

This clerical railer tells the archbishop that, by means of Methodism, there was, in this remote part of the country, “a schismatical rebellion against the best of churches; a defiance of all laws, civil and ecclesiastical; a professed disrespect to learning and education; a visible ruin of trade and manufacture; a shameful progress of enthusiasm; and a confusion not to be paralleled in any other Christian dominion.” He adds, that he has taken pains to “inquire into the characters of these new sectaries, and has found their teachers shamefully ignorant, and criminally arrogant, while many of them have been prevented arriving at the order of priesthood by early immoralities.”

The text he professes to expound is 1 Corinthians xiv. 33, and the following are a specimen of his spicy sentences concerning the Methodists and their system:—“A weak illiterate crowd,”—“a labyrinth of wild enthusiasm,”—preachers are “bold, visionary rustics, setting up to be guides in matters of the highest importance, without any other plea but uncontrollable ignorance,”—these officious haranguers cozen a handsome subsistence out of their irregular expeditions. Mr. Wesley has in reality a better income than most of our bishops. The under lay praters, by means of a certain allowance from their schismatic general, a contribution from their very wise hearers, and the constant maintenance of themselves and horses, are in a better way of living than the generality of our vicars and curates; and doubtless find it much more agreeable to their constitution, to travel abroad at the expense of a sanctified face and a good assurance, than to sweat ignominiously at the loom, anvil, and various other mechanic employments, which nature had so manifestly designed them for.”

But enough of the oracular utterances of Mr. White. Who was he? First of all, he was educated at Douay, for orders in the Church of Rome. Renouncing popery, he was noticed by Archbishop Potter, and made a priest of the Church of England. An itch for scribbling made him the author of about half-a-dozen worthless ungrammatical publications, including “a burlesque poem on a miraculous sheep’s eye at Paris.” A devoted son of “the best of churches,” he frequently abandoned his church for weeks together; and, on one occasion, read the funeral service more than twenty times in a single night over the dead bodies which had been interred, without ceremony, during his absence from home. He married an Italian governess in 1745; was imprisoned for debt in Chester castle; and there died on April 29, 1751.[28]

If White’s sermon had not given birth to the murderous outrage at Roughlee and Barrowford, it would have been too worthless to be noticed. As it was, a brainless and ungrammatical production became of such importance, that Grimshaw thought it his duty, in 1749, to publish an answer to it. Grimshaw was not the man to be mealy mouthed. On his title page he put the following: “Why boastest thou thyself in mischief, O mighty man? The goodness of God endureth continually. Thy tongue deviseth mischief; like a sharp razor, working deceitfully. Thou lovest evil more than good; and lying words rather than to speak righteousness. Thou lovest all devouring words, O thou deceitful tongue; God shall likewise destroy thee for ever. He shall take thee away, and pluck thee out of thy dwelling place, and root thee out of the land of the living. The righteous also shall see and fear, and laugh at him.” (Psalm lii. 1-6.) This was strong language for the incumbent of Haworth to use respecting the perpetual curate of Colne. Grimshaw tells him, that his sermon is “full of palpable contradictions, absurdities, falsities, groundless suggestions, and malicious surmises, and, in some sort, vindicates the people it was intended to asperse.” Grimshaw’s “Answer” extends to eighty-six pages, 12mo, closely printed, and is an able and well written defence of the poor, persecuted Methodists. White was no match for Grimshaw, at least, in literary conflict. The one was a braggadocio, the other was a giant; and, with a giant’s knotted club, he belabours the pompous priest with anything but the gentleness of a carpet knight. White, however, deserved all he got. The man was a popish cheat. Besides his disgraceful imprisonment in Chester castle, he had, as Grimshaw reminds him, been acting the rake, in London and elsewhere, for the last three years; and now forsooth! all at once, the cheat and rake becomes the virtuous and indignant champion of mother church. No wonder that Grimshaw wrote: “Bombalio! Clangor! Stridor! Taratantara! Murmur!” The terrible text on Grimshaw’s title page was a graphic description of the miserable priest who raised the Roughlee mob, and its prophetic utterances were soon fearfully fulfilled. Within three years White was dead. “For some years,” says Wesley, “he was a popish priest. Then he called himself a protestant. He drank himself first into a jail, and then into his grave.”[29]

Leaving Barrowford, Wesley and his friends went to Heptonstall, where he preached, with unexampled power, in an oval surrounded with spreading trees, and scooped out of a hill, which rose round him and his congregation like a rural theatre. He then made his way, through Todmorden and Rossendale, to Bolton, where with the cross for his pulpit, and a vast number of “utterly wild” people for his audience, he began to preach. Once or twice they thrust him down from the steps on which he was standing, but he still continued his discourse. Then stones were thrown, which seem to have done more injury to the mob themselves than they did to Wesley. One man was bawling in his ear, when his bawling was silenced by a missile striking him on the cheek. A second was forcing his way to the preacher, when another stone hit him on his forehead, and disfigured him with blood. A third stretched out his hand to lay hold on Wesley, when a sharp flint struck him on the knuckles, and made him quiet till Wesley concluded his discourse and went away. It was either on this, or some subsequent occasion, that six papists, from Standish, near Wigan, rode right through the midst of Wesley’s congregation; and tradition states, that two of the horsemen, brothers of the name of Lyon, were afterwards hanged for burglary.[30]

Wesley and his friends proceeded from Bolton to Shackerley, six miles farther, where he preached to a large congregation, including not a few Unitarians, the disciples of Dr. Taylor, the divinity tutor of the Unitarian academy founded at Warrington. Wesley, always hopeful, remarks: “O what a providence is it, which has brought us here also, among these silver tongued antichrists!” Wesley visited Shackerley three times after this, and wrote, in 1751: “Being now in the very midst of Mr. Taylor’s disciples, I enlarged much more than I am accustomed to do, on the doctrine of original sin; and determined, if God should give me a few years’ life, publicly to answer his new gospel.” This was done six years afterwards; and Shackerley must always have a place in Methodistic annals, inasmuch as to Wesley’s visits here Methodism is indebted for the most elaborated work he ever wrote.

In his onward progress, Wesley came to Astbury, where a lawless mob, headed by “Drummer Jack,” surrounded the preaching house, and endeavoured, by discordant noises, to drown his voice. Some years after, the same Drummer Jack was escorting a wedding party to Astbury church, and, on reaching the spot where he had attempted to disturb Wesley’s congregation, suddenly expired.[31]

Thus preaching on his way, Wesley, on September 4, got back to London.

Meanwhile, on July 5, Whitefield, after nearly a four years’ absence, returned to England from America. On the day he landed, he wrote to his friends, the two Wesleys; but an immediate interview was impracticable, for Wesley himself was on his northern journey, and his brother Charles, besides attending to his ministerial duties, was paying loving attentions to Sarah Gwynne. Three days before Wesley got back to London, Whitefield wrote to him as follows:—

“LONDON, September 1, 1748.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—My not meeting you in London has been a disappointment to me. What have you thought about an union? I am afraid an external one is impracticable. I find, by your sermons, that we differ in principles more than I thought; and I believe we are upon two different plans. My attachment to America will not permit me to abide very long in England; consequently, I should but weave a Penelope’s web, if I formed societies; and if I should form them, I have not proper assistants to take care of them. I intend therefore to go about preaching the gospel to every creature. You, I suppose, are for settling societies everywhere; but more of this when we meet. I hope you don’t forget to pray for me. You are always remembered by, reverend and dear sir, yours most affectionately in Christ Jesus,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[32]

Whitefield left London for Scotland before Wesley’s arrival, and the two evangelists had no opportunity of meeting until the end of November, when, it is possible, they might, in their hurried ramblings, have a brief interview in town. They were still the warmest friends; but their courses of action were separate. Whitefield was a Calvinist; Wesley was not. Whitefield thought an external union, of the Tabernacle and other congregations with the congregations raised by Wesley, was impracticable; Wesley, so far as there is evidence to show, did not desire it. Whitefield had no societies, for the societies in Wales really belonged not to him but to Howel Harris; Wesley had already societies from one end of the kingdom to the other. Whitefield intended to spend his time chiefly in America; Wesley meant to stay in England. Whitefield, for the reasons he assigns, resolved to form no societies, but to be a mere evangelist; Wesley was resolved, for reasons stated at more than one of his annual conferences, to form societies wherever he and his preachers preached. Here the two friends parted, one in one direction, the other in another, both of them with hearts as warm as ever, and both equally animated with zeal for God and benevolence for man; but each, henceforth, cheerily pursuing his own chosen path, until both, laden with the spoils of a victorious war, were welcomed to the tranquillities and joys of their Father’s house in heaven.

Hitherto Whitefield’s preaching had chiefly been in fields and lanes, squares and streets, woods and wildernesses; but now, oddly enough, he was admitted into the drawing rooms of the rich and great.

The Right Honourable Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, wife of the Earl of Huntingdon, and sister of the Earl of Ferrars, was now in the forty-second year of her age. Her noble husband was a man of extensive learning, was most exemplary in his character, and treated his wife with great affection. At his death, in 1746, ninety-eight elegies were written concerning him, and were published under the title of “Lacrymæ Musarum.”

For two years past, the countess had been a widow. Hitherto, she had admirably fulfilled her duties in the higher circles of society. At Donnington Park, she had been the “Lady Bountiful” among her neighbours and dependants; she had evinced great interest in their temporal and eternal welfare; and, besides encouraging the clergy in her own immediate neighbourhood, she had, more than once, dared to give a hearty welcome to the outcast Wesleys and their friends. Her heart was now pierced with the deepest sorrow, and was highly susceptible of religious impressions. Just at this juncture, Whitefield came back to England; his fervid eloquence attracted her attention; she made him her chaplain; and what Whitefield had resolved not to do, she did herself,—she founded societies, built chapels, appointed ministers, and formed a Methodist connexion apart from that which was formed by Wesley. She never renounced the Church of England; but she embraced views hardly compatible with its practices and well being. She was a child of emotion, carried onwards by an impulse not easily resisted or described. She had her annual conferences; the preachers whom she stationed were called “Lady Huntingdon’s preachers”; and the connexion over which she presided was known by the name of “Lady Huntingdon’s connexion.” Perhaps her people were less efficiently organised; but she held to them the same relation that Wesley did to his. Her authority was parental and decisive. No one doubted the purity of her motives, and all trusted the general soundness of her judgment. Chapels were erected in London, Brighton, Tunbridge Wells, Bath, Bristol, Birmingham, and other places. Again and again, revivalists were sent from one end of the land to the other, preaching everywhere, and almost everywhere winning souls for Christ. A college, the first that Methodism had, was opened at Trevecca, for the training of young ministers. The countess was the empress of the new connexion, and Whitefield was her prime minister. Wesley’s connexion was Arminian; hers was Calvinist. His continues, and is more extended and powerful than ever; hers has long been broken up into Independent churches. Wesley died March 2, 1791; she on the 17th of June next ensuing.

The Countess of Huntingdon was, in many respects, the most remarkable woman of her age and country. She was far from faultless; but she was neither the gloomy fanatic, the weak visionary, nor the abstracted devotee, which different parties have painted her. Her endowments were above the ordinary standard, and were much improved by reading, conversation, study, and observation. Though not a beauty, she was not without the charms of the female sex. Her devotion to the work of God was almost unexampled. Her house was used for Methodist meetings, which were attended by large numbers of the nobility and higher classes, including the Duchesses of Argyll, Bedford, Grafton, Hamilton, Montagu, Queensberry, Richmond, and Manchester, and Lords Burlington, Townshend, North, March, Trentham, Weymouth, Tavistock, Hertford, Trafford, Northampton, Lyttelton, and others,—even William Pitt. During the last forty years of her life, she gave, at least, £100,000 for the support and extension of her system; and actually sold her jewels to find means for the building of Brighton chapel. Her life was a beautiful course of hallowed labour. Her death was the serene setting of a brilliant sun. Almost her last words were: “My work is done; I have nothing to do but to go to my Father.” She was a mother in Israel, whose decease left a vacancy not filled up. Her person, endowments, energy, and spirit were all uncommon. Accustomed to assume great responsibilities and to be deferred to in matters of great importance, she necessarily cultivated self reliance to such an extent as sometimes made her seem obstinate, haughty, and dogmatical. Still, dignity and ease met in her; and in manners she was refined, elegant, and engaging. Honour, heroism, and magnanimity were always conspicuous in her remarkable career; and, for intrepidity in the cause of God, and success in winning souls to Christ, Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, stands unequalled among women.

Six weeks after his return from America, Whitefield commenced preaching in her ladyship’s mansion. Among his earliest hearers was the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, “a wit among lords, and a lord among wits.” Twice a week, Whitefield preached to these conclaves of nobility and rank, his congregations usually consisting of about thirty persons.[33]

In London, he preached at St. Bartholomew’s, and helped to administer the sacrament to a thousand communicants;[34] but, in other instances, his congregations were thin. He found that antinomianism had made sad havoc; but the scattered troops began to unite again.[35] He writes November 19: “Matters were in great confusion by reason of Mr. Cennick’s going over to the Moravians”; and again on December 21: “I suppose not less than four hundred, through the practices of the Moravians, have left the Tabernacle. I have also been forsaken in other ways. I have not had above a hundred to hear me, where I had twenty thousand; and hundreds now assemble within a quarter of a mile of me, who never come to see or speak to me; though they must own, at the great day, that I was their spiritual father. All this I find but little enough to teach me to cease from man, and to wean me from that too great fondness which spiritual fathers are apt to have for their spiritual children.”[36]

No doubt, this was exceedingly distressing. But there was more than this to annoy the once popular preacher. Just at the time when Wesley got back to London, Whitefield set out for Scotland, where, on former occasions, he had won some of his greatest triumphs; but now a synod of his old friends, the Seceders, met in Edinburgh, on November 16, to adopt the “new modelled scheme and covenant.” Hundreds took the oath, and solemnly engaged to use all lawful means to extirpate, not only “popery, prelacy, Arminianism, Arianism, tritheism, and Sabellianism,” but also “George Whitefieldism”; and similar decisions were adopted at the synods of Lothian, Ayr, and Glasgow.[37]

And added to all this, there was another trouble of a different kind, in which Wesley was involved as well as Whitefield. Dr. Lavington was bishop of Exeter, and was a fervent hater of the Methodists. He had recently delivered a charge to the clergy of his diocese, and some mischievous person had published a piece, which falsely pretended to be the same as that which the bishop had addressed to his assembled ministers. This fictitious charge contained such a declaration of doctrines as exposed Lavington to the stigma of a Methodist, and produced several pamphlets in reply and congratulation. His lordship was enraged; and advertised, in the public papers, that the pamphlet which had been affiliated upon himself was false; that the Methodist leaders were the authors of the fraud; and that, though there might be among the Methodists a few well meaning, ignorant people, yet the sect, as a whole, were deluded enthusiasts, and their teachers something worse than that.[38] Whitefield was accused as the principal, and the Wesleys were suspected as being his accomplices, in the spurious production. This was utterly untrue, but it occasioned Whitefield considerable annoyance. It so happened that the pamphlet had been sent to him in manuscript; but he denied its genuineness, and strongly condemned the injustice of its publication.[39] Still, the bishop persisted in his accusation. Lady Huntingdon wrote to him, assuring him that Whitefield and the Wesleys were innocent, and demanded a candid and honourable retraction of the charges against them. Her letter was accompanied by an acknowledgment, on the part of the printer, that no one was to blame for the publication except himself; and, that he received the manuscript from one who had no connection with the Methodists. His lordship maintained a sullen silence. The countess wrote again, declaring that, unless Lavington complied with her request, she would make the transaction public. This extorted a recantation, and an apology “to her ladyship, and to Messrs. Whitefield and Wesley for the harsh and unjust censures which he had passed upon them, and a wish that they would accept his unfeigned regret for having unjustly wounded their feelings, and exposed them to the odium of the world.”[40]

The prelate recanted and apologized; but, henceforth, he became the most bitter and implacable reviler that the Methodist leaders had; and, within two years, began to publish his ribald and infamous attack, entitled “The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared.”

Some good, however, arose out of this disreputable fracas. Among other pamphlets published, the following was one: “A Letter to the Right Rev. Father in God, George, Lord Bishop of Exeter. By a Clergyman of the Church of England.” The writer states, that he has no acquaintance whatever with either Wesley or Whitefield; but he had read their books, and rejoiced in their revival of the grand old doctrine of justification by faith alone. He then proceeds to defend them against three accusations—1. That they had left the Church. 2. That they refused to be under political government. 3. That, though their preaching was right in the main, they were immethodical in their practice.

The pamphlet is chiefly remarkable for its being a defence of the Methodists by a clergyman, who had no connection with the Wesleys. It breathes piety, but lacks power.

Having spent a week in London, Wesley set out, on September 12, for Cornwall. He preached to a “multitude” near St. Stephen’s Down, who were as silent as death, while he was speaking; but the moment he concluded, “the chain fell off their tongues. Never,” says he, “was such a cackling made on the banks of Cayster, or the common of Sedgmoor.” The St. Just society consisted “of one hundred and fifty persons of whom more than a hundred were walking in the light of God’s countenance.” At Newlyn, his congregation were “a rude, gaping, staring rabble rout; some or other of whom were throwing dirt or stones continually.”

On his return, he examined the Bristol society, and “left out every careless person, and every one who wilfully and obstinately refused to meet his brethren weekly. By this means the number of members was reduced from nine hundred to about seven hundred and thirty.” He got back to London on the 15th of October, and remained in town and its immediate neighbourhood till the year expired. A short excursion was made to Windsor and Wycombe, and also to Leigh. He likewise preached at Wandsworth, where a little company had begun to seek and to serve God, though the rabble had pelted them with dirt and stones, and abused both men and women in the grossest manner.

His time, however, was partly occupied in writing. He had already formed the project of publishing “The Christian Library.” Hence the following letter to Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell.

“NEWCASTLE, August 14, 1748.

“DEAR SIR,—I have had some thoughts of printing, on a finer paper, and with a larger letter, not only all that we have published already, but it may be, all that is most valuable in the English tongue, in threescore or fourscore volumes, in order to provide a complete library for those that fear God. I should print only a hundred copies of each. Brother Downes would give himself up to the work; so that whenever I can procure a printing press, types, and some quantity of paper, I can begin immediately. I am inclined to think several would be glad to forward such a design; and if so, the sooner the better; because my life is far spent, and I know not how soon the night cometh wherein no man can work.

“I am, dear sir,

“Your affectionate brother and servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[41]

This was a bold design, which he began to execute in the ensuing year, and for which he was already preparing materials. Mr. Blackwell was a partner in a banking house in Lombard Street, London; and though, for his plain honesty, he was often called the “rough diamond,”[42] he was one of Wesley’s kindest and most valuable friends. To his country house, at Lewisham, Wesley was accustomed to retire, when writing for the press. Here he found an asylum during his serious illness in 1754. To him, Blackwell was wont to entrust considerable sums of money, for distribution among the poor.[43] Under such circumstances, no wonder that Wesley, with his small purse and large project, should submit his scheme to the London banker, for the purpose of ascertaining his willingness to help in its execution.

Happy deaths among the Methodists were now not unfrequent. Wesley mentions several; and the sanctified muse of his brother Charles never attained to loftier poetic heights than when celebrating such events. There were, however, at the end of 1748, a number of deaths painful as well as pleasing. John Lancaster had been a regular attendant at the Foundery’s five o’clock morning service, and had been converted; but, by degrees, had left off coming; and had rejoined his old companions, and, fallen into sin. One day, when playing at skittles, he became the accomplice of a thief, and soon after broke into the Foundery, and stole two of the chandeliers. In this instance, he escaped detection; but, emboldened by success, he proceeded to steal nineteen yards of velvet, the property of Mr. Powell; and, for this, was tried at the Old Bailey sessions, in the month of August, and was sentenced to be hanged.[44] The poor wretch sent for Sarah Peters and some other of his old Methodist companions, to visit him in his cell. At the time, there were nine others in the same prison awaiting execution. Six or seven of them joined Lancaster and the Methodists in prayer, reading the Scriptures, and singing hymns. A pestilential fever was raging in the prison; but the visits were oft repeated. Lancaster professed to find peace with God. Thomas Atkins, a youth, nineteen years of age, condemned for highway robbery, said: “I bless God, I have laid my soul at the feet of Jesus, and am not afraid to die.” Thomas Thompson, a horse stealer, exceedingly ignorant, was brought into the same state of mind. John Roberts, a burglar, at first utterly careless and sullen, became penitent and believing. William Gardiner, convicted of rape, said on his way to execution, “I have nothing to trust to but the blood of Christ! If that won’t do, I am undone for ever.” Sarah Cunningham, who had stolen a purse of twenty-seven guineas, at first went raving mad, but, in her lucid intervals, earnestly implored Christ to pity her. Samuel Chapman, a smuggler, seemed to fear neither God nor devil, but, after Sarah Peters had talked to him, he began to cry aloud for mercy, was seized with the jail distemper, and was confined to his bed till carried to the gallows. Ten poor wretches, the above included, were executed at Tyburn, on October 28.[45] Six of them spent their last night together, in continuous prayer; and, on Sarah Peters visiting them early in the morning, several of them exclaimed, with a transport not to be expressed, “O what a happy night we have had! What a blessed morning is this!” The turnkey said he had never seen such people before; and, when the bellman came at noon, to tell them, as usual, “Remember, you are to die to-day!” they cried out, “Welcome news! welcome news!” When brought out for execution, Lancaster exclaimed, “O that I could tell a thousandth part of the joys I feel!” Atkins said, “Blessed be God, I am ready”; Gardiner cried, “I am happy, and think the moments long; for I want to die, to be with Christ”; Thompson witnessed the same confession. Spectators wept; and the officers looked like men affrighted. On their way to Tyburn, the convicts sang several hymns, and especially—

“Lamb of God, whose bleeding love We still recal to mind, Send the answer from above, And let us mercy find: Think on us, who think on Thee, And every struggling soul release; O remember Calvary, And let us go in peace!”

Thus died Lancaster, a condemned felon, a quondam Methodist, one of his last prayers being, that the Foundery congregation might abound more and more in the knowledge and love of God, and that God would bless and keep the Wesleys, and that neither men nor devils might ever hurt them.

And what became of Sarah Peters? Six days after the execution, she was seized with malignant fever; and, ten days after that, she died. She was, says Wesley, “a lover of souls, a mother in Israel. During a close observation of several years, I never saw her, upon the most trying occasions, in any degree ruffled or discomposed; she was always loving, always happy. It was her peculiar gift, and her continual care, to seek and to save that which was lost; and, in doing this, God endued her, above her fellows, with the love that believeth, hopeth, and endureth all things.”

Before closing the present chapter, all that remains is to note Wesley’s publications during the year 1748. They were the following:—

1. “Thomæ à Kempis de Christo Imitando Libri Tres. Interprete Sebast. Castellione. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 143 pages.

2. “Historiæ et Precepta selecta. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 79 pages.

3. “Marthurini Corderii Colloquia selecta. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 51 pages.

4. “Instructiones Prælectiones Pueriles. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 39 pages.

5. “A Short English Grammar.” 12mo, 12 pages.

6. “Lessons for Children.” Part III., 12mo, 124 pages. The lessons are fifty-seven in number, and are taken from the books of Ezra, Nehemiah, Job, the Psalms, and Proverbs.

The whole of the above were class books in Kingswood school.

7. “Sermons on several Occasions.” Vol. II., 12mo, 312 pages.

8. “A Word to a Methodist.” 12mo, 8 pages. This was written in Wales, and was published in the Welsh language. The following is Wesley’s account of it. “1748, March 27: Holyhead. Mr. Swindells informed me, that Mr. E——, the minister, would take it a favour, if I would write some little thing, to advise the Methodists not to leave the Church, and not to rail at their ministers. I sat down immediately and wrote, ‘A Word to a Methodist,’ which Mr. E—— translated into Welsh, and printed.” In a letter to Howel Harris, dated “Holyhead, February 28, 1748,” he says:—“I presume you know how bitter Mr. Ellis, the minister here, used to be against the Methodists. On Friday, he came to hear me preach, I believe with no friendly intention. Brother Swindells spoke a few words to him, whereupon he invited him to his house. Since then, they have spent several hours together; and, I believe, his views of things are greatly changed. He commends you much for bringing the Methodists back to the Church; and, at his request, I have wrote a little thing to the same effect. He will translate it into Welsh, and then I design to print it, both in Welsh and English.”[46]

9. “A Letter to a Friend concerning Tea.” 12mo, 24 pages. This tract is a strongly worded condemnation of the use of tea; but, as the substance of it has been already given, a further description is unneeded.

10. “A Letter to a Clergyman.” Dublin: Printed by S. Powell, Crane Lane. 12mo, 8 pages. This was written at Tullamore, in Ireland, on the 4th of May, 1748; and was occasioned by a conversation with the clergyman to whom it is addressed. Its object is to show, that the preacher whose preaching saves souls is a true minister of Christ, though he has not had a university education, is without learning, has never been ordained, and receives no temporal reward.

11. “A Letter to a Person lately joined with the People called Quakers. In answer to a Letter wrote by him.” 12mo, 20 pages. Wesley takes his account of Quakerism from the writings of Robert Barclay, and shows wherein the system differs from Christianity; namely—1. Because it teaches that the revelations of the Spirit of God, to a Christian believer, “are not to be subjected to the examination of the Scriptures as to a touchstone.” 2. Because it teaches justification by works. 3. Because it sets aside ordination to the ministry by laying on of hands. 4. Because it allows women to be preachers. 5. Because it affirms that we ought not to pray or preach except when we are moved thereto by the Spirit; and that all other worship, both praises, prayers, and preachings, are superstitious, will worship, and abominable idolatries. 6. Because it alleges that “silence is a principal part of God’s worship.” 7. Because it ignores the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper. 8. Because it denies that it is lawful for Christians to give or receive titles of honour. 9. Because it makes it a part of religion to say thee or thou,—a piece of egregious trifling, which naturally tends to make all religion stink in the nostrils of infidels and heathens. 10. Because it teaches that it is not lawful for Christians to kneel, or bow the body, or uncover the head to any man; nor to take an oath before a magistrate.

In his wide wanderings, Wesley met with numbers of friendly Quakers, of whom he speaks in terms of commendation; but their system was one which he abhorred, and, in his “Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion,” he speaks of the inconsistencies of their community in the most withering terms. “A silent meeting,” said he in a letter to a young lady, “was never heard of in the church of Christ for sixteen hundred years.”[47] And, in one of his letters to Archbishop Seeker, he remarks: “Between me and the Quakers there is a great gulf fixed. The sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper keep us at a wide distance from each other; insomuch that, according to the view of things I have now, I should as soon commence deist as Quaker.”[48]

1749.

[Sidenote: 1749 Age 46]

In 1749, Wesley spent four months in London and its vicinity, nearly four in Ireland, ten weeks in Bristol, Wales, and the surrounding neighbourhood, and two months in his tour to the north of England.

His brother employed the year principally in Bristol, Wales, and London, and in visiting intermediate towns and villages.

Whitefield was five months in London, more than five in Bristol and the west of England, and about two were occupied in a visit to Newcastle and the north. In London, besides preaching in the Tabernacle and other places, he acted as the chaplain of the Countess of Huntingdon, and, in her mansion, continued to publish the gospel’s glad tidings to the noble and the rich. Of his seventy-eight published letters, written during 1749, nearly half are addressed to titled ladies. Horace Walpole, in a letter, dated March 23, 1749, remarks: “Methodism in the metropolis is more fashionable than anything but brag; the women play very deep at both; as deep, it is much suspected, as the matrons of Rome did at the mysteries of the Bona Dea. If gracious Anne were alive, she would make an admirable defendress of the new faith, and would build fifty more churches for female proselytes.”[49]

In another letter, dated the 3rd of May, he writes:—“If you ever think of returning to England, you must prepare yourself with Methodism. This sect increases as fast as almost any religious nonsense ever did. Lady Frances Shirley has chosen this way of bestowing the dregs of her beauty; and Mr. Lyttelton is very near making the same sacrifice of the dregs of all those various characters he has worn. The Methodists love your big sinners, as proper subjects to work upon; and, indeed, they have a plentiful harvest. Flagrancy was never more in fashion; drinking is at the highest wine mark; and gaming is joined with it so violently, that, at the last Newmarket meeting, a bank bill was thrown down, and nobody immediately claiming it, they agreed to give it to a man standing by.”[50]

Whitefield wrote: “I am a debtor to all, and intend to be at the head of no party. I believe my particular province is, to go about and preach the gospel to all. My being obliged to keep up a large correspondence in America, and the necessity I am under of going thither myself, entirely prevent my taking care of any societies. I profess to be of a catholic spirit. I have no party to be at the head of, and, through God’s grace, will have none; but, as much as in me lies, strengthen the hands of all, of every denomination, that preach Jesus Christ in sincerity.”[51]

His wife arrived from America at the end of June; and, a few weeks afterwards, he set out for the north of England. In Grimshaw’s church, at Haworth, he had a thousand communicants; and, in the churchyard, about six thousand hearers. In Leeds, his congregation consisted of above ten thousand. On his way to Newcastle, Charles Wesley met him, and, returning with him, introduced him to the Orphan House pulpit. Under the date of October 8, Charles writes “The Lord is reviving His work as at the beginning. Multitudes are daily added to His church. George Whitefield, my brother, and I, are one; a threefold cord, which shall no more be broken. The week before last, I waited on our friend George at our house in Newcastle, and gave him full possession of our pulpit and people’s hearts, as full as was in my power to give. The Lord united all our hearts. I attended his successful ministry for some days. He was never more blessed, or better satisfied. Whole troops of the Dissenters he mowed down. They also are so reconciled to us, as you cannot conceive. The world is confounded. The hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. At Leeds, we met my brother, who gave honest George the right hand of fellowship, and attended him everywhere to our societies. Some at London will be alarmed at the news; but it is the Lord’s doing, as they will by-and-by acknowledge.”[52]

Rightly or wrongly, we thus find Whitefield disassociated from all churches and all societies,—the friend of all, the enemy of none,—an evangelist, not a pastor, making it the one business of his life to spread gospel truth, and to convert sinners from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God.

Wesley intended to visit Rotterdam at the beginning of 1749; but was prevented by a request that he would write an answer to Dr. Middleton’s book against the fathers. He says: “I spent almost twenty days in that unpleasing employment.”

In the middle of the month of February, he and his brother, and Charles Perronet, set out from London for Mr. Gwynne’s, in Wales, for the purpose of making final arrangements for Charles’s marriage. John’s proposal was to give his brother security for the payment of £100 per annum out of the profits of their publications. This was accepted as satisfactory, and Mr. Gwynne and Mr. Perronet were to act as the trustees. Miss Sally Gwynne promised to let Charles continue his vegetable diet and his travelling; and, though Mrs. Gwynne wished to stipulate that he should not go again to Ireland, this, at her daughter’s request, was not enforced. It is a fact, however, that, for some reason, Charles Wesley never visited Ireland after he became the son-in-law of Mrs. Gwynne.

Having completed the negotiations for his brother’s marriage, Wesley hurried off to Bristol; and, at Kingswood, collected together seventeen of his preachers, whom he divided into two classes, for the purpose of reading lectures to them every day, during Lent, as he had formerly done to his pupils at Oxford. To one class, he read Bishop Pearson on the Creed; to the other, Aldrich’s Logic; and to both, “Rules for Action and Utterance.” About a month seems to have been spent in this ministerial training. Who were Wesley’s favoured pupils? This is a question we cannot answer; but, from the books selected, we learn that Wesley’s object was—(1) To teach theology; (2) the science of reasoning; (3) the art of elocution. Leisure hours were occupied in making preparations for the “Christian Library,” and in preaching in the surrounding neighbourhood. Once a week, also, he spent an hour with the assembled children of the four Kingswood schools; namely, the boys boarded in the new house, the girls boarded in the old, the boys in the day-school taught by James Harding, and the girls taught in the day-school by Sarah Dimmock.[53]

Lent terminated on the 26th of March, and, a week afterwards, he returned to Wales for the purpose of performing his brother’s marriage. This took place on the 8th of April, and was, in all respects, a happy one, though there was a considerable disparity in age, Charles being forty, and his bride only twenty-three. Her father was a respected magistrate; her mother an heiress of £30,000. The change from her father’s mansion to a small house in Bristol was great; but she loved her husband, and was never known to regret the comforts she had left behind her. She became the mother of eight children: five died in infancy; three survived their parents, and, by their distinguished talent, added lustre even to the name of Wesley. She died on December 28, 1822, at the age of ninety-six. Her long life was an unbroken scene of devoted piety in its loveliest forms; and her death equally calm and beautiful.

Two days after his brother’s marriage, Wesley set out for Ireland, where he landed at three o’clock on Sunday morning, April 16, and, on the same day, preached thrice to the Dublin Methodists. Having spent a fortnight in the city, where the members had increased from four hundred to four hundred and forty-nine, he started off on a visit to the provincial societies. At Edinberry, he had “an exceedingly well behaved congregation,” including “many Quakers,” and took the appropriate text, “They shall be all taught of God.” At Athlone, his audience comprised seven or eight of the officers, and many of the soldiers of the regiment to which John Nelson had been attached. Great numbers of papists also attended, maugre the labour of their priests. Several sinners were converted, including a man, who, for many years, had been “eminent for cursing, swearing, drinking, and all kinds of fashionable wickedness.” At Limerick, Wesley preached to about two thousand people, not one of whom either laughed, or looked about, or minded anything except the sermon. Here the society had taken a lease of an old abbey, and had turned it into a Methodist meeting-house. He met a class of soldiers, eight of whom were Scotch Highlanders; and was introduced to a gentlewoman of unspotted character, who, for two years, had fancied herself forsaken of God, and possessed with devils; and who blasphemed and cursed, and vehemently desired and yet was afraid to die. Of the Limerick society, he writes: “The more I converse with this people, the more I am amazed. That God hath wrought a great work among them, is manifest; and yet the main of them, believers and unbelievers, are not able to give a rational account of the plainest principles of religion. It is plain, God begins His work at the heart; then ‘the inspiration of the Highest giveth understanding.’”

Having employed seventeen days in Limerick, Wesley, on the 29th of May, set out for Cork; but, on the way, Charles Skelton met him, with the tidings that, in consequence of the late riots (which will be noticed presently), it was now impossible to preach in that city. Wesley was not to be deterred; but he had no sooner entered than “the streets, and doors, and windows were full of people.” Prudently enough, instead of staying, he rode on to Bandon, a town entirely inhabited by Protestants, where he had, by far, the largest congregations he had seen in Ireland. Here he met a clergyman, who had come twelve miles purposely to talk with him. All, however, was not smooth sailing even at Bandon. Dr. B—— averred (1) That both John and Charles Wesley had been expelled from the university of Oxford. (2) That there was not a Methodist left in Ireland, except in Cork and Bandon, all the rest having been rooted out, by order of the government. (3) That neither were there any Methodists left in England. And (4) that Methodism was all Jesuitism at the bottom. Wesley took the opportunity of replying to these slanderous falsehoods; and then proceeded to Blarney, where he found another rumour, that the Methodists placed all religion in wearing long whiskers. At Brough, he preached to “some stocks and stones”; and then got back to Limerick, whose society he pronounced the liveliest people he had found in Ireland.

Here he “spent four, comfortable days,” when, having appointed himself to preach at Nenagh, he was obliged to leave; and, for want of better accommodation, was glad to ride on horseback behind “an honest man,” who overtook him as he trudged on foot. At Gloster, he preached “in the stately saloon” of a beautiful mansion, built by an English gentleman. At Ferbane, where he meant to dine, he stopped at two different inns, but found that “they cared not to entertain heretics.” Again reaching Athlone, he preached in the new built chapel, and, towards the close of his discourse, cried out, “Which of you will give yourself, soul and body, to God?” Mrs. Glass responded, with a cry that almost shook the house, “I will, I will.” Two others followed, and the scene became most exciting. Numbers began to cry aloud for mercy, and, in four days, more found peace with God than had done in sixteen months before. At Portarlington, a town chiefly inhabited by French, he met a clergyman, who was a defender of the Methodists, and formed a society of above a hundred persons.

More than nine weeks were occupied in this excursion. On the 5th of July, Wesley got back to Dublin, and, a fortnight afterwards, returned to England; but, before leaving Ireland, we must recur to Cork.

For some time, Methodism, in Cork, met with no serious opposition; but, at length, by the secret plottings of the clergy, the town corporation was moved, and a ballad singer of the name of Butler was engaged to be the leader of a mob. This despicable fellow, dressed in a parson’s gown and bands, with a Bible in one hand and a bundle of ballads in the other, sang and vended, in the streets, doggerel rhymes, stuffed with the vilest lies respecting the Methodists; and, by this means, inflamed the populace against them. On the 3rd of May, Butler and his ragged retinue assembled at the Methodist meeting-house, and pelted the congregation with dirt. On the day following, stones, as well as mire, were thrown; and both men and women were attacked with clubs and swords, and many were most seriously wounded. On the 5th of May, the mob was greater than ever; the mayor, who saw numbers of the people covered with sludge and blood, refused to interfere; and the two sheriffs of the city, entering the chapel, drove the congregation among the rioters, and nailed up the doors. John Stockdale was beaten, bruised, and gashed; and his wife thrown to the ground, and almost murderously abused. For ten days ensuing, Butler and his rabble assembled before the house of Daniel Sullivan,[54] a baker; beat and abused his customers; then broke his windows and spoiled his goods, the mayor of the city being an indifferent spectator. Not content with this, for another fortnight, the rioters daily gathered at the front of Sullivan’s shattered dwelling, and threatened to pull it down. He applied to the mayor for protection. His worship answered, “It is your own fault for entertaining those preachers.” Upon this, the mob set up a loud huzza, and threw stones faster than ever. Sullivan said, “This is fine usage under a protestant government; if I had a priest saying mass in my house, it would not be touched.” The mayor replied, “The priests are tolerated, but you are not;” and the crowd, thus encouraged, continued throwing stones till midnight. On May 31, the day that Wesley passed through Cork, Butler and his friends assembled at the chapel, and beat, and bruised, and cut the congregation most fearfully. The rioters burst open the chapel doors; tore up the pews, the benches, and the floor, and burnt them in the open street. Other outrages were perpetrated almost daily during the month of June. Butler and his gang of ruffians went from street to street, and from house to house, abusing, threatening, and maltreating the Methodists at their pleasure. Some of the women narrowly escaped with life. Butler, addressing Thomas Burnet, said, “You are a heretic dog; your soul will burn in hell.” Burnet meekly asked, “Why do you use me thus?” Upon which Butler struck him with a stone, and rendered him incapable of working for upwards of a week; and, at the same time, without the least provocation, hit his wife, and so hurt her that she was obliged to take to her bed. Ann Cooshea and her family were called heretic bitches; and then a huge stone was thrown at her head with such force as to render her insensible. Ann Wright was told, by the same inhuman wretches, that they would make her house hotter than hell; her goods were dashed to pieces; while she herself was pelted with all kinds of missiles, and had to quit her shop, and flee for her very life. Margaret Griffin had her clothes torn to tatters; was cut in the mouth; and beaten and abused to such a degree, that she was covered with gore, and spat blood for several days. Jacob Connor was fearfully wounded, and, had not a gentleman interposed, would probably have been killed. Ann Hughes, besides being called most abusive names, was dragged by Butler along the ground; had her clothing rent in pieces; and was stabbed and slashed in both her arms by the sword of the ferocious brute. Butler and his troop came to Mary Fuller’s shop, brandishing a dagger, and swearing he would cleave her skull. He then made a stroke at her head, which must have killed her, had not Henry Dunkle diverted the felon’s aim. Dunkle was seized; had his shirt and clothes torn to tatters; and narrowly escaped an untimely death, by the interference of neighbours. Mary Fuller fled for life, and had her goods hacked to pieces. Margaret Tremnell was violently struck with a club on her arm and back; stones were hurled into her shop; and her property was partly destroyed by the swords of Butler’s mob, and partly thrown into the street.

For two months, these horrible outrages were continued; and, at the end of that period, Wesley writes:—“It was not for those who had any regard, either to their persons or goods, to oppose Mr. Butler after this. So the poor people patiently suffered, till long after this, whatever he and his mob were pleased to inflict upon them.”

Of these subsequent sufferings details are wanting. We only know that, on the 19th of August, twenty-eight depositions respecting Nicholas Butler and his crew were laid before the grand jury of the Cork assizes, and were all thrown out. At the same time, the same jurists made a memorable presentment, “which,” says Wesley, “is worthy to be preserved in the annals of Ireland, to all succeeding generations,” to wit, that Charles Wesley, and seven other Methodist preachers therein named, together with Daniel Sullivan, the honest baker, were all persons of ill fame, vagabonds, and common disturbers of his majesty’s peace, and ought to be transported.

This, of course, gave Butler greater licence than ever. His fiendish persecutions had received a sort of semi-official sanction, and were carried on with the greatest gusto. Even as late as February, 1750, ten months after the outrages first commenced, we find him and his friends entering the house of William Jewell, breaking his windows, beating his wife, and swearing that they would blow out his brains if he offered the least resistance. Mary Philips was abused in the grossest terms, was struck on the head, and narrowly escaped an untimely death. Elizabeth Gardelet, a soldier’s wife, was met by Butler and his rabble; and, without any provocation, the brute struck her with both his fists, and beat her head against a wall. On escaping from him, he pursued her and struck her in the face. Running into a school-yard for shelter, he vociferated, “You whore, you stand on consecrated ground;” threw her across the lane; knocked her down backwards; and otherwise so ill treated her as to occasion her miscarriage.

Several depositions, to this effect, were laid before the grand jury of the Lent assizes; but, like those at the assizes preceding, were all rejected. A true bill, however, was found against Daniel Sullivan for discharging a pistol, without a ball, over the heads of Butler and his mob, while they were pelting him with stones. Several of the preachers, presented as vagabonds in autumn, appeared at these assizes, and were ordered into the dock of common criminals. Butler was the first witness against them. The judge, looking at him with a suspicious eye, asked what his calling was. The worthless fellow hung down his head, and sheepishly replied, “I sing ballads, my lord.” The judge lifted up his hands in surprise, and said, “Here are six gentlemen,” (so he was pleased to style them,) “indicted as vagabonds, and the first accuser is a vagabond by profession.” A second witness, being called, was asked the same question. He impudently answered, “I am an anti-swaddler, my lord.” The judge resented the insolence, and ordered the buffoon out of court. Then turning to the jury, he reprimanded the corporation and others, for suffering such a vagrant as Butler to be the ringleader of a rabble, who had committed such atrocious outrages upon so many of the peaceable and respectable inhabitants of the city; and declared that it was an insult to the court to bring such a case before him. The abettors of this infamous persecution were put to shame, and Butler was discarded; but the riots, as we shall see in the next chapter, were still continued.

One of the rabble was, shortly afterwards, buried in a coffin made of two of the benches which he had stolen from the Methodist meeting-house; while the notorious Butler, in the first instance, went to Waterford, where, in another riot, he lost an arm;[55] and then fled to Dublin, where he dragged out the remainder of his life in well deserved misery, and was actually saved from starving by the charity of the Dublin Methodists.[56]

To these abominable outrages we are indebted for several of Wesley’s tracts, published at this period; as his “Short Address to the Inhabitants of Ireland”; his “Letter to a Roman Catholic”; his “Roman Catechism”; and others, which will be noticed more fully hereafter.

We now return to England. In the month of April, a letter was published in the Bath Journal, alleging that many Methodists of eminence had been publicly charged with the crimes of fornication and adultery, and that one of their preachers had preached the lawfulness of polygamy. Wesley replied to this infamous accusation while in Ireland, and, of course, denied the reported slander.[57]

On August 28, he set out on a two months’ journey to the north of England, during which occurred one of the most painful episodes in his eventful life. But before proceeding further, some account must be given of two of the chief actors in this humiliating scene.

John Bennet was born at Chinley, in Derbyshire; received a good education; was fond of books; and, at the age of seventeen, was placed under the care of Dr. Latham, near Derby, with a view of his studying for the office of the Christian ministry. Before long, however, he engaged himself as clerk to a magistrate; and, at twenty-two, embarked in the business of carrier between Sheffield and Macclesfield, employing a number of horses for conveying goods across mountains, over which carts and wagons had never passed.[58] In 1739, he went to Sheffield races; heard David Taylor preach; sold his racehorse; brought Taylor into Derbyshire; and was converted. He soon relinquished all secular pursuits, and began to preach himself; his “round,” as it was called, extending to Macclesfield, Burslem, Chester, Whitehaven, Bolton, and Manchester.[59] In 1742, he first met with Wesley; and, a year later, became one of his itinerants, and attended the first Methodist conference in 1744.[60] On October 3, 1749, he was married to Grace Murray. Meanwhile, he had introduced Methodism into Stockport and the city of Chester; had been mobbed in Manchester; and had formed a society in Rochdale.[61] At the conference following his marriage, he was appointed to the Cheshire circuit, and was desired to furnish a plan for conducting quarterly meetings; and to pay a special visit to Wednesbury and Newcastle, for the purpose of teaching the Methodists of these circuits “the nature and method” of such meetings.[62] Soon after, he began to grumble, and wrote to Whitefield complaining of Wesley’s discipline and doctrine. Whitefield replied, on June 29, 1750, as follows:—

“I am utterly unconcerned in the discipline of Mr. Wesley’s societies. I can be no competent judge of their affairs. If you and the rest of the preachers were to meet together more frequently, and tell each other your grievances and opinions, it might be of service. This may be done in a very friendly way; and, thereby, many uneasinesses might be prevented. After all, those that will live in peace must agree to disagree in many things with their fellow labourers, and not let little things part or disunite them. I know not well what you mean about gospel privileges. If you mean lovefeasts, bands, etc., these I think are prudential means, and, therefore, prudence should be exercised in the use of them. I am of your opinion, that too much familiarity in these things is hurtful. But it is hard to keep a medium, where a multitude is concerned. As ill effects are discovered, they should be corrected and avoided. The question and answer you refer to, I do not like. I know nothing of Christ’s righteousness being imputed to all mankind. It is enough to say with the Scriptures, ‘that it is imputed to all believers.’ Another seven years’ experience will teach some to handle the word of life in a better manner. You would do well to read more; but whether it would be best for you to pursue, or re-assume, your old studies, unless you are determined to settle, I cannot tell. Reading a Latin author, a little every day, could do you no hurt. It has been my judgment, that it would be best for many of the present preachers to have a tutor, and retire for a while, and be content with preaching now and then, till they were a little more improved. Otherwise, I fear many who now make a temporary figure, for want of a proper foundation, will run themselves out of breath, will grow weary of the work, and leave it. This is the plan I purpose to pursue abroad. Look to Jesus, and let not little things disappoint and move you. If this be your foible, beware, and pray that Satan may not get an advantage over you. He will be always striving to vex and unhinge you. The Lord be with you and yours, and give Mrs. Bennet faith and courage in her approaching hour!”[63]

Besides being in other respects of some importance, Whitefield’s letter will help the reader to understand Bennet’s subsequent career. It was not nine months since his marriage with Grace Murray; and, eighteen months after this, he stood up in the Bolton chapel, and said, “I have no longer any connection with Mr. Wesley. He denies the perseverance of the saints, and asserts sinless perfection. All of you, who are of my mind, follow me.” The society did so; for, out of a hundred and twenty-seven members, only nineteen remained faithful. He then went to Stockport, where, after preaching, he met the society, told them what he had done at Bolton, and added, “You must take either me or Mr. Wesley.” They all joined him, but one, Molly Williamson. He promised to preach to them every fortnight; but, within a year, utterly forsook them.[64]

Here we have the first Methodist agitator. Bennet pursued his divisive career. On December 30, 1751, Thomas Mitchell preached at Bolton, after which Bennet met the shattered society, spoke bitterly of Wesley, and said he was a pope, and preached nothing but popery. Spreading out his hands, he cried, “Popery! popery! popery! I have not been in connection with him these three years, neither will I be any more.” Thomas Mitchell said, “The spirit in which you now speak is not of God; neither are you fit for the pulpit, while you are of such a spirit”; upon which a woman struck Mitchell in the face. The congregation was now in uproar, and Mitchell quietly retired. The day following, however, Bennet went to the quarterly meeting, and repeated to all the stewards of the circuit what he had said, on the previous evening, to the Bolton society. “His mind,” says Thomas Mitchell, “was wholly set against Mr. Wesley, and against the whole Methodist doctrine and discipline; and he had so infused his own spirit into the people in many places, that I had hard work among them. But the Lord kept my soul in peace and love. Glory be unto His holy name!”[65]

Such was John Bennet, the first Methodist reformer,—a man of respectable social position, and a classical scholar; but a man not overstocked with honesty and honour, a man of energy, but somewhat conceited, a hard worker, and, we hope, devout, but also suspicious, testy, and vindictive,—a man whose early labours were greatly blessed, but who, in 1754, settled at Warburton, a small village of four or five hundred inhabitants, situated about six miles eastward of the town of Warrington; where, in a chapel erected for his use, he continued to preach Calvinistic doctrines for the next five years, when he was seized with jaundice, and, after an illness of thirty-six weeks, finished his course on May 24, 1759, aged forty-five.[66] His wife, who had no little experience, says she never saw any saint’s death to equal his. Addressing him, she said, “Thou art not afraid of dying?” “No,” he answered, “I am assured, beyond a doubt, that I shall be with Christ. I long to be dissolved. Come, Lord Jesus! Loose me from the prison of this clay!” She asked again, “Canst thou now stake thy soul on the doctrines thou hast preached?” “Yes,” said he, “ten thousand souls. It is the everlasting truth. Stick by it.” He then prayed for his wife, his children, and the church, after which he said, “I long to be gone. I am full. My cup runneth over. Sing, sing, yea, shout for joy”; and with the words, “Sing, sing, sing,” upon his lips, he died.

Grace Murray, his wife and widow, was the daughter of Robert and Grace Norman, of Newcastle upon Tyne, and was born January 28, 1716. In early childhood, she was religiously disposed, read the Bible, and gave all her pence to relieve the poor. Between eight and nine she was sent to a dancing school, lost her religious impressions, and became an admired companion of the gay and frivolous. At sixteen, she commenced sweethearting, and, at eighteen, was pressed by her attentive swain to marry; but, being averse to this, she removed to London to her sister. Here she became a servant, and, as far as her circumstances permitted, was swallowed up in worldly pleasures and diversions. At the age of twenty, she married a sailor of the name of Alexander Murray, who, three or four days after the marriage ceremony, went to sea, and was absent for ten or eleven months. Her husband, however, though a sailor, was related to a Scottish family of some importance, who, being concerned in the rebellion of 1715, had forfeited their estate, and suffered other loss and inconvenience. Her first affliction was the death of an infant child, fourteen months of age. This made her serious, and she began to attend the ministry of Whitefield and the Wesleys. She became a penitent; and, while reading Romans v., found peace with God, through faith in Christ. Her husband, returning from a voyage, and finding she had become a Methodist, swore that she should not hear the Methodists again. Grace told him, that if she yielded to him in this, she should lose her soul. He stamped and raved and swore: “You shall leave them or me.” She answered: “I love you above any one else on earth; but I will leave you and all that I have, sooner than I will leave Christ.” He threatened to send her to the mad house in West Gardens. She replied: “I am ready to go not only to prison, but to death. I know in whom I have believed, and am confident He would give me strength to confess Him in the flames.” Her husband said: “If you are resolved to go on thus, I will leave you; I will go as far as ships can sail.” She answered: “I cannot help it; I could lay down my life for you; but I cannot destroy my soul. If you are resolved to go, you must go; I give you up to God.”

In process of time, Murray softened, and he himself became a penitent, desiring nothing so much as to know Jesus Christ and Him crucified. In August, 1741, he sailed for Virginia, and, in the same month of the year following, the ship returned with the tidings that he had been drowned at sea.

In October, Grace Murray returned to her mother’s, at Newcastle, a young, fascinating widow of twenty-six. She was no sooner settled, than John Brydon fell in love with her, and, though there was no engagement, it was commonly supposed they were about to marry. Meanwhile, she was appointed leader of several classes, and made excursions to Horsley, Tanfield, and neighbouring villages, speaking to the people, and praying with the societies. Thomas Meyrick, one of the preachers, being ill, she, at Wesley’s desire, removed to the Orphan House to take care of him; but a feminine squabble between her and sister Jackson soon led to her returning to her mother’s.

In the spring of 1743, she came back to London; and then returned to Newcastle in the autumn following, where she devoted herself altogether to the service of the church. Her home was the Orphan House. Part of every week she spent with her classes and the sick; the rest in visiting the country societies. She and sister Jackson had renewed quarrels, which, at the end of a year, led to her again retiring from what ought to have been a holy and happy family. In the meantime, John Brydon married another woman, and soon became careless about religious matters. “This,” says Grace Murray, “shocked me exceedingly. I was afraid his blood would be upon my head, because I did not marry him.” She fell into deep despondency; saw nothing but hell before her; wished she had been a beast or creeping thing; was tempted to dash out her brains. “I was got to such a pass,” she says, “that no preaching did me any good; so wise, that I thought I knew all before the preacher spoke. The Holy Spirit was grieved. My state daily grew worse and worse; and I was even ready to disbelieve in the Bible itself.” For about two years, she continued in this mournful and distressed condition, when she was again enabled to rejoice in God her Saviour, and again became an inmate of the Orphan House. Here, during the autumn of 1745 and the spring of 1746, besides her usual employment in town and country, she had to nurse John Haughton, William Sheppard, and Thomas Westall, all of whom were seriously attacked by fever. In 1747, she had to render the same service to John Wheatley, Edward Dunstan, and Eleazer Webster, who were all ill in the house together. John Bennet, also, was seized with fever, and for twenty-six weeks was tended by her with the greatest care. Such was the life she lived until the autumn of 1748, when she and the other Orphan House sisters again had quarrels, and, for this and another reason to be mentioned shortly, she left the family for ever.

In October, 1749, she became the wife of John Bennet, and, of course, was with him in all his disreputable railings against Wesley. To some extent, she sympathised with the action that her husband took, and also embraced his Calvinistic creed. She was left a widow with five sons, the eldest not eight years old; and, ever after, lived a life of religious retirement. She rose early, prayed much, watched the education of her children, observed great order in her domestic matters, read largely, entertained gospel ministers, visited the sick, and had weekly meetings for prayer and Christian fellowship, chiefly conducted by herself. Having seen those of her children, who were spared, settled in life, she removed to Chapel-en-le-frith, where she again joined the Methodists, and had a class-meeting in her house. Her diary, begun in 1792 and continued for eight years afterwards, when her eyesight failed her, is rich and beautiful. She died on February 23, 1803, aged eighty-seven, after a widowhood of nearly four and forty years. Her last words were: “Glory be to Thee, my God; peace Thou givest.” Dr. Bunting, at that time one of the circuit preachers, preached her funeral sermon, from a text of her own choosing: “I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”[67]

We now reluctantly proceed to dwell on matters of extreme delicacy, and which, under ordinary circumstances, ought not to be introduced; but the case before us is exceptional. John Wesley’s courtship with Grace Murray has been noticed by all his biographers; but, as Mr. Jackson observes:—“all the circumstances of the case have never been disclosed, and the affair is still involved in considerable mystery.”[68] In its ultimate effects, it was one of the great events in Wesley’s history. Curiosity has been excited, but never satisfied. What is the truth respecting it? Who was the faithless one? What were the tricks employed? Who were the censurable parties? Did Wesley act discreetly, or did he act dishonourably? Does the transaction stain the character of the great reformer, or is he innocent and injured? These are questions of some importance, and must serve as an apology for the introduction of details usually omitted in the biographical memoirs of illustrious men.

It has been already stated, that Charles Wesley contemplated marriage early in the year 1748. In the month of August following, his brother was seized, at Newcastle, with what seems to have been a bilious attack, and which, to some extent, disabled him, though, during its six days’ continuance, he managed to preach at Biddick, at Pelton, at Spen, at Horsley, and at Newcastle. Grace Murray attended him during his sickness. When he was somewhat recovered, he proposed to marry her. She seemed amazed, and said, “This is too great a blessing for me; I can’t tell how to believe it. This is all I could have wished for under heaven!” From that time, Wesley regarded her as his affianced bride.

In a week or ten days after making his proposal of marriage, Wesley was obliged to leave Newcastle for the south. The night before he started, he told Grace Murray that he was fully convinced God intended her to be his wife; and that, though they must part at present, he hoped when they again met, they would part no more. The young widow begged they might not separate so soon, saying it was more than she could bear. Upon this, Wesley took her with him through Yorkshire and Derbyshire, where, he says, “she was unspeakably useful both to him and to the societies.” Here they parted, Grace Murray being left with Bennet, and Wesley making his way to London.

Is it unfair to suspect some dishonourable collusion here? Let us see. A year before, John Bennet, for twenty-six weeks, was an invalid in the Orphan House, at Newcastle, and was nursed by widow Murray. From that time, they carried on an epistolary correspondence. Meanwhile, Wesley had proposed marriage, and his proposal had been ardently accepted. Grace Murray was so deeply smitten, that she was unable to bear the thought of Wesley leaving her. To satisfy and give her pleasure, he, perhaps indiscreetly, took her with him; but, on reaching John Bennet’s circuit, he was permitted to proceed alone, and she contentedly remained with a man whom she had nursed in sickness for half a year, and with whom she had corresponded ever since. Added to all this, no sooner had Wesley left the loving couple, than they both wrote to him; Bennet desiring his consent to marry her; and she declaring that she believed it was the will of God she should. Wesley was “utterly amazed, but wrote a mild answer to both, supposing they were married already.” Further correspondence followed. For six months, immediately succeeding, she coquetted between the two. When she heard from Wesley, she resolved to live and to die with him. When Bennet wrote, she replied to him in the tenderest terms. In February, 1749, she sent to Bennet the intelligence, that Wesley had requested her to accompany him to Ireland; that, if he loved her, he must meet her at Sheffield; and that, if he failed in this, she could not answer for results. Bennet determined to go to Sheffield; but, at the last moment, was prevented by the death of a relative. The widow, therefore, went on to Bristol without seeing him. Here there were mutual explanations. She related to Wesley what had passed between Bennet and herself, and seemed to think, that the contract was binding. Wesley, on the other hand, reminded her of what had passed between himself and her; and she professed herself quite convinced, that her engagement with Bennet was not binding; and, accordingly, she and Wesley went off to Ireland.

Here they passed several months together. “She examined all the women in the smaller societies, and the believers in every place. She settled all the women bands, visited the sick, prayed with the mourners, more and more of whom received remission of sins, during her conversation or prayer.” To Wesley himself “she was both a servant and a friend, as well as a fellow labourer in the gospel. She provided everything he wanted; and told him, with all faithfulness and freedom, if she thought anything amiss in his behaviour. The more they conversed together, the more he loved her; and, at Dublin, they contracted by a contract de præsenti. All this while she neither wrote to Bennet, nor he to her.”

At the end of July, they returned to Bristol. Here she heard some idle tales concerning Wesley and Molly Francis. Jealousy took possession of her, and she addressed a loving letter to forsaken Bennet, and received an answer, that he would meet her in her journey to the north.

In August, she came with Wesley to London. Here a friend advised her to abandon the thought of marrying Wesley, on the ground, that the London Methodists would never treat her with the respect which Wesley’s wife ought to have; and, that she had not sufficient humility and meekness to bear the slights that would be cast upon her.

On August 28, they started for Newcastle; and, at Epworth, John Bennet met them. Wesley began to “speak to him freely.” Bennet told him, that Grace Murray had sent to him all the letters which Wesley had sent to her. This decided Wesley. He judged it right, that she and Bennet should marry without delay, and wrote her a line accordingly. On receiving it, she ran to Wesley “in an agony of tears, and begged him not to talk so, unless he designed to kill her.” Immediately after, Bennet came to Wesley, and “claimed her as his right”; and Wesley again “determined to give her up.” Four or five days were spent at Epworth. Wesley had fully made up his mind to let John Bennet have her, though he felt the deepest anguish from what he calls “a piercing conviction of his irreparable loss.” While thus suffering, a message was brought him, that “sister Murray was exceeding ill.” He went to her. She cried, “How can you think I love any one better than I love you! I love you a thousand times better than I ever loved John Bennet in my life. But I am afraid, if I don’t marry him, he’ll run mad.” At night, Bennet came to visit her, and, at his urgent request, she again promised to be his wife. Next morning she told Wesley what had passed; and he was more perplexed than ever.

On September 4, they proceeded to Newcastle, resting on the way at Sykehouse, and at Osmotherley. For several days, Wesley was unable to decide how to act; but on September 6, he asked her, “Which will you choose?” Again and again she declared, “I am determined, by conscience as well as by inclination, to live and die with you.” Accordingly, the day following, he wrote a long letter to Bennet, remonstrating with him on his unjust, unkind, and treacherous behaviour. This was sent by the hand of William Shent, but was not delivered. She also wrote to Bennet to the same effect.

She now urged Wesley to marry her immediately. To this he objected, because he wished—(1) To satisfy John Bennet; (2) to procure his brother’s consent; (3) to send an account of his reasons for marrying to all his preachers and societies, and to desire their prayers. She said she would not be willing to wait longer than a year. He answered, “Perhaps less time will suffice.” She seemed satisfied, and every day and almost every hour assured him of the most intense and inviolable affection; and declared God had now united them for ever.

She was not without enemies, and Wesley took the opportunity of inquiring their reasons for disliking her. Sister Lyddell’s reason was, because Grace had had the impudence to ride into Newcastle with him. Mr. Williams accused her of not lending his wife her saddle; and Mrs. Williams of buying a holland shift. Nancy and Peggy Watson were angry, because she had bought a joseph before she wanted it. Ann Matteson complained of her being proud and insolent; and Betty Graham of her spending ten shillings upon an apron. Wesley regarded all this as the fruit of vexatious jealousy.

On September 20 they went, with Christopher Hopper, to Hineley Hill. Hopper was made their confidant. In his presence, they renewed the contract they had made in Dublin; after which he was despatched to Chinley, in Derbyshire, to try to satisfy John Bennet. Wesley himself went forward to Whitehaven; his betrothed being left behind to examine the women bands in Allandale.

Meanwhile, Wesley had written to his brother Charles at Bristol. Charles was shocked at the thought of his brother marrying at all, and especially of his marrying a woman who had been a domestic servant; and believed, that it would break up all their societies, and put a stop to the work of God. Instead of replying to his brother’s letter, Charles hurried down to Leeds, and thence posted to Newcastle, where Jeannie Keith informed him that, in consequence of his brother’s contemplated marriage, the town was in an uproar, and all the societies ready to fall in pieces. He hastened to Whitehaven, and told his brother, that all their preachers would leave them, and all their societies disperse, if he married so mean a woman. Wesley weighed the reasons alleged against his marrying. He acknowledges that, at the age of seven and twenty, he was persuaded that “it was unlawful for a priest to marry”; and that, soon after, he was brought to think that there was some degree of taint upon the mind, necessarily attending the marriage bed. Further inquiry, however, had led him to alter his opinions. The meanness of Grace Murray’s origin was no objection, for he had regarded her, not for her birth, but for her qualifications. She was remarkably neat; nicely frugal, yet not sordid; gifted with a large amount of common sense; indefatigably patient, and inexpressibly tender; quick, cleanly, and skilful; of an engaging behaviour, and of a mild, sprightly, cheerful, and yet serious temper; while, lastly, her gifts for usefulness were such as he had not seen equalled. His conclusions were: (1) “have scriptural reason to marry. (2) I know no person so proper as this.”

Next morning his brother left him, and proceeded to Hineley Hill. Meeting the intended bride, he kissed her, and said, “Grace Murray, you have broken my heart.” By some means, he persuaded her to ride behind him to Newcastle, where John Bennet was awaiting their arrival. She fell at her lover’s feet, acknowledged she had used him ill, and begged he would forgive her. Within a week, the two were made man and wife in St. Andrew’s church.

Whitefield was at Leeds, and, by Joseph Cownley, wrote to Wesley, desiring him to come to him. Wesley went, and was told by Whitefield, that his brother refused to leave Newcastle till John Bennet and Grace Murray had been united in marriage bonds. Perceiving Wesley’s trouble, Whitefield wept and prayed over him, and did all he could to comfort him. The day after, Charles and the newly married couple came. Charles, with characteristic impetuosity, accosted his brother, saying, “I renounce all intercourse with you, but what I would have with a heathen man or a publican.” Whitefield and John Nelson burst into tears; prayed, cried, and entreated, till the storm passed over. The brothers, unable to speak, fell on each other’s neck. John Bennet was introduced; but, instead of upbraiding, Wesley kissed him. Wesley and his brother had a private interview, and, on hearing explanations, Charles was utterly amazed, exonerated him from blame, and declared that all the culpability was hers.

Thus the matter ended. Wesley patiently submitted; but this was, unquestionably, one of the greatest trials of his life. In a long hymn of thirty-one six lined stanzas, he poured forth the sorrows of his heart.[69] Four days after the marriage, he wrote as follows, to Mr. Thomas Bigg, of Newcastle:—

“LEEDS, October 7, 1749.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Since I was six years old, I never met with such a severe trial as for some days past. For ten years, God has been preparing a fellow labourer for me, by a wonderful train of providences. Last year I was convinced of it; therefore I delayed not, but, as I thought, made all sure beyond a danger of disappointment. But we were soon after torn asunder by a whirlwind. In a few months, the storm was over; I then used more precaution than before, and fondly told myself that the day of evil would return no more. But it too soon returned. The waves rose again since I came out of London. I fasted and prayed, and strove all I could; but the sons of Zeruiah were too hard for me. The whole world fought against me; but above all, my own familiar friend. Then was the word fulfilled, ‘Son of man, behold! I take from thee the desire of thine eyes at a stroke; yet shalt thou not lament, neither shall thy tears run down.’

“The fatal, irrecoverable stroke was struck on Tuesday last. Yesterday I saw my friend (that was), and him to whom she is sacrificed. I believe you never saw such a scene. But ‘why should a living man complain? a man for the punishment of his sins?’

“I am, yours affectionately, “JOHN WESLEY.”[70]

Wesley was not without friends to sympathise with him. Vincent Perronet, in a letter to Charles Wesley, wrote:—

“Yours came to hand to-day. I leave you to guess how such news must affect a person whose very soul is one with yours and our friend. Let me conjure you to soothe his sorrows. Pour nothing but oil and wine into his wounds. Indulge no views, no designs, but what tend to the honour of God, the promoting the kingdom of His dear Son, and the healing of our wounded friend. How would the Philistines rejoice, could they hear that Saul and Jonathan were in danger from their own swords!”[71]

Wesley had an interview with Grace Bennet three days after her dishonourable marriage; but, for thirty-nine years afterwards, they never met again. In 1788, when her son was officiating at a chapel in Moorfields, she came to visit him, and expressed a wish to see her distinguished and too faithful lover. Wesley went; the meeting was affecting, but soon over; and he was never heard to mention even her name afterwards.[72]

This has been a painful exposure. Perhaps the writer will be blamed for giving details usually too delicate to be put in print; but it must be borne in mind, that the whole of what is here related has been already published. Besides, up to a recent period, this episode in Wesley’s history has been a puzzle to all his biographers. It has never been explained. Mystery has enwrapped it. Readers have been left in doubt who were the parties to be blamed. Now there can be no great difficulty in pronouncing judgment. John Wesley was a dupe. Grace Murray was a flirt. John Bennet was a cheat. Charles Wesley was a sincere, but irritated, impetuous, and officious friend. Fancy wonders what would have been the result, if Grace Murray had become John Wesley’s wife; and probability suggests that one result would have been, that Mrs. Vazeille would not have had the opportunity of tormenting him as her second husband. But would he have been happy? We doubt it. Joseph Cownley was not far wrong, when, being interrogated by John Bennet, he replied, “If Grace Murray consult her ambition, she will marry Mr. Wesley; if she consult her love, she will marry you.”[73] Ambition properly controlled is not an evil; but ambition in a wife, unmixed with love, inevitably engenders discontent and misery. Besides, it is fair to ask the question, would Wesley’s marrying Grace Murray have been satisfactory to his friends? Wesley was a scholar, an author, and a minister of high repute; his friends included not only thousands of the labouring classes, but a fair sprinkling of brother clergymen, and a few who were men of wealth and position. Was it likely that such friends would look with approbation upon a marriage which was a mesalliance? Was not such a marriage calculated to injure Wesley’s influence with the general public? Was it not likely to give an advantage to his enemies? Was it not probable, that it would create disaffection among his preachers, and among his societies? Does not lowliness like to see leadership maintain its dignity? Charles Wesley was culpable for the impetuosity of his interference, and for some of the means he used to effect his purpose; but his alarm was reasonable, and his interposition needed. The fact is, though his brother doubtless loved Grace Murray, she was not worthy of his love. It was a huge imprudence to make her his travelling companion, first in the northern counties, and then, for months, in the sister island. All must admit this. His conduct throughout was honest and honourable, though, at the same time, foolish, and unworthy of his character and position. Without doubt, she was talented, talkative, and bewitching; her services also, as a female itinerant, were popular, and, in a certain sense, successful; but Wesley’s opinion of her character and piety was far higher than our own. The woman who, after a few years of high religious profession, could, for so long a period, sink into almost sceptical depression, and yet, all the while, meet her bands and go through all the other Methodistic duties prescribed for her, as though nought had happened,—the woman who was almost constantly in hot water with her neighbours, and with the other Orphan House sisters; and who so infamously coquetted with the greatest reformer of the age, and with one of his most educated and able helpers,—was not the perfect saint that Wesley pictured her. She was a woman of energy, of dauntless resolution, and of a certain sort of religious zeal; and, late in life, she seems to have been a loving, lovely Christian; but, at the period of her dualistic courtship, she was uneducated, vain, fickle, selfish, and presuming. Her husband wanted her, and got her; and we hope, and doubt not, that their married life was happy; but even Bennet was deserving of a more worthy wife; for, though his treatment of Wesley was, in the first instance, treacherous, and afterwards abusive, he was almost the only one of Wesley’s itinerants who was a man of education and of property; and, both before his marriage and after it, was an earnest, zealous, brave, and useful preacher. But now we bid adieu to Wesley’s flirting sweetheart, and his rival lover; and, with deep regret, begrudge the space we have felt it right to give them.

Wesley’s fortitude was one of his greatest virtues. Terrible had been his disappointment and his trial; and yet, on Friday, October 6, the day after the stormy salutation of his brother, and his painful interview with Bennet and his bride, we find him preaching once at Birstal, and twice at Leeds. He then made a brief eight days’ visit to Newcastle, where, he writes, “at a meeting of the select society such a flame broke out as was never there before. We felt such a love to each other as we could not express; such a spirit of supplication, and such a glad acquiescence in all the providences of God, and confidence that He would withhold from us no good thing.” This was the more remarkable, as, only ten days before, his irritated brother had so severely censured him among the Newcastle Methodists, that the Orphan House was full of anger and confusion. Sister Proctor said, she would leave the house immediately. John Whitford, in the fourth year of his itinerancy, declared that he would no longer be a helper. Matthew Errington dreamed that the Orphan House was all in flames; another dreamer saw Wesley himself in hell; while Jeannie Keith oracularly pronounced him one of the children of Satanas.[74] The fire was fierce, but, for want of fuel, was soon extinguished.

Strangely enough, on leaving Newcastle, Wesley went, at the request of John Bennet, to Rochdale. His home was at Bankhouse, the residence of Mr. Healey, the grandfather of the Messrs. Healey, of Liverpool.[75] On entering the town, he found the streets lined with a vast multitude of people, shouting, cursing, blaspheming, and gnashing on him with their teeth; but, notwithstanding this, he preached, taking as his text, “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts.”

From Rochdale, he went to Bolton, and soon found that the Rochdale lions were lambs, in comparison with those at Bolton. Edward Perronet was thrown down and rolled in mud and mire. Stones were hurled, and windows broken. John Bennet was made a captive, and was hemmed in on every side; but “laid hold of the opportunity to tell them the terrors of the Lord.” Wesley preached thrice, and with such effect, that, before he left, he and his party “could walk through every street of the town; and none molested or opened his mouth, unless to thank or bless them.”

Leaving Bolton, Wesley proceeded to Bristol, and thence to London, which he reached on November 10. Here he received a letter from Johannes de Koker, of Rotterdam, telling him, that he was about to translate and publish his “Plain Account,” and his “Character of a Methodist”; and advising him to “avoid, more than he would a mad dog or a venomous serpent, the multiplying of dogmas, and disputations about things unnecessary”; for these had “been the two stratagems of Satan, by which he had caused the church, insensibly and by degrees, to err from evangelical simplicity and purity.”

Wesley was again involved in trouble with the Moravians. In a collection of tracts, they printed all the passages they could glean from his various writings, that were calculated to prejudice the Lutherans against the Methodists. In the London Daily Post, they ostentatiously announced to the English public, that the Methodists and Moravians were not the same; and sent to the editor of that journal, “the declaration of Louis, late bishop and trustee of the Brethren’s church.” Wesley writes: “the Methodists, so called, heartily thank brother Louis for his declaration; as they count it no honour to be in any connection either with him or his brethren.” He then adds: “but why is he ashamed of his name? The Count’s name is Ludwig, not Louis; no more than mine is Jean or Giovanni.”

It was probably this scrimmage which led to the publication, in 1749, either by Wesley or his friends, of a small 12mo pamphlet of twelve pages, with the title, “Hymns composed for the use of the Brethren. By the Right Reverend and Most Illustrious C. Z. Published for the benefit of all mankind. In the year 1749.”[76] Neither printer nor compiler’s name is given; but there is an address “to the reader,” as follows: “The following hymns are copied from a collection printed, some months since, for James Hutton, in Fetter Lane, London. You will easily observe, that they have no affinity at all to that old book called the Bible: the illustrious author soaring as far above this, as above the beggarly elements of reason and common sense.”[77]

Zinzendorf’s worst wisher could have published nothing more calculated to create disgust against him, as the Moravian hymnist, than this. The sufferings of the Lord Jesus are represented as “shining from the Moravian handmaid.” The believer is “a little bee, resting from the hurry and flurry of earth on the breast of Jesus.” The wounded side of the blessed Saviour is “God’s side-hole, sparkling with an everlasting blaze,” and to which prayer is offered; the poet licks it, like rock salt, and finds no relish to equal it; and, as a snail creeps into its house, so he creeps into it. To multiply such ideas would be criminal. We content ourselves with giving a single verse, intended to be a description of the Moravian church:

“The daughters reverence do, Christess, and praise thee too Thou happy Kyria, daughter of Abijah, Ve-Ruach Elohah, sister of Jehovah. Manness of the man Jeshuah, Out of the Pleura hosannah.”[78]

Is it surprising, that Wesley “counted it no honour” to be connected with a man who could write such profane balderdash as this? or with a church, which was insane enough, in the service of sacred song, to sing it?

The conference of 1749 was held in London, on the 16th of November and following days. The chief subject discussed seems to have been, the possibility of joining all the societies in the kingdom in a general union; and the desirability of investing the stewards of the London society with power to consult together for the good of all.

The conference being ended, Wesley retired to his friend Perronet’s, at Shoreham, that he might be at leisure to employ his pen. Here he spent about a fortnight; then a week at Lewisham; and about another week at Newington.

We conclude, as before, with a list of Wesley’s publications during 1749.

1. “Excerpta ex Ovidio, Virgilio, Horatio, Juvenali, Persio, et Martiali. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 242 pages.

2. “Caii Sallustii Crispi Bellum Catilinarium et Jugurthinum. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 110 pages.

3. “Cornelii Nepotis excellentium Imperatorum Vitæ. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 100 pages.

4. “A Short Latin Grammar.” 12mo, 48 pages.

5. “A Short Account of the School in Kingswood, near Bristol.” 12mo, 8 pages.

6. “Directions concerning Pronunciation and Gesture.” 12mo, 12 pages.

This last publication was intended, “in usum juventutis Christianæ”; but it was also meant for his helpers, and may still be profitably studied by numbers of Wesley’s ministerial successors. “A good pronunciation is nothing but a natural, easy, and graceful variation of the voice, suitable to the nature and importance of the sentiments we deliver.” “The first business of a speaker is so to speak, that he may be heard and understood with ease.” Persons with weak voices are recommended to strengthen them, by “reading or speaking something aloud, for at least half an hour every morning.” “The chief faults of speaking are—1. The speaking too loud. 2. The speaking too low, which is more disagreeable than the former. 3. The speaking in a thick cluttering manner, mumbling and swallowing words and syllables, to cure which defect, Demosthenes repeated orations every day with pebbles in his mouth. 4. The speaking too fast, a common fault, but not a little one. 5. The speaking too slow. 6. The speaking with an irregular, desultory and uneven voice. But, 7. The greatest and most common fault of all, is, the speaking with a tone—in some instances womanish and squeaking; in others singing or canting; in others high, swelling, and theatrical; in others awful and solemn; and in others, odd, whimsical, and whining.” In reference to gesture, Wesley remarks, that it is more difficult for a man to find out the faults of his own gesture than those of his pronunciation; because he may hear his own voice, but cannot see his own face. He recommends the use of a large looking glass, after the example of Demosthenes; or, what is better still, to have some excellent pattern constantly in view. Directions are given concerning the motions of the body, of the head, the face, the eyes, the mouth, the hands. The mouth must never be turned awry; neither must a speaker bite or lick his lips, shrug his shoulders, or lean upon his elbow. He must never clap his hands, nor thump the pulpit. The hands should seldom be lifted higher than the eyes; and should not be in perpetual motion, for this the ancients called “the babbling of the hands.”

Wesley’s tract is small and unpretending; but it would not be a waste of time if the students at Didsbury, Richmond, and Headingley would occasionally give it their serious attention.

7. “An Extract of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’s Journal, from September 3, 1741, to October 27, 1743.” 12mo, 123 pages.

8. “A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Conyers Middleton, occasioned by his late ‘Free Inquiry.’” 12mo, 102 pages. Middleton was born at Richmond, in Yorkshire, in 1683, and died the year after Wesley wrote his letter. He was a favourite of George I.; was hated by Dr. Bentley, the master of his college; had three wives; was Woodwardian professor, and the university librarian; a writer of great powers, but more an author of whose productions are debased by the leaven of infidelity. Of an irritable temper, he was always creating antagonists instead of friends. But for his doubtful opinions and his quarrelsome disposition, he might have adorned as well as acquired a mitre, instead of which he held, at the time of his decease, no preferment but a small living given to him by Sir John Frederick. The work which gave birth to Wesley’s letter had recently been published, and was entitled, “A Free Inquiry into the Miraculous Powers, which are supposed to have subsisted in the Christian Church, from the earliest ages, through several successive centuries.” Middleton’s professed object was to denounce the practice of taking the primitive fathers as exponents of the Christian faith, because this gave to papists an unassailable advantage in the defence of their superstitions and errors. He rightly contends, that “the Bible only is the religion of protestants”; but, in pushing his principle, he was, perhaps wrongly, suspected of wishing to undermine the authority of the Bible itself. The substance of Wesley’s pungent answer may be guessed from the opening paragraph:—

“In your late ‘Inquiry,’ you endeavour to prove, first, that there were no miracles wrought in the primitive church; secondly, that all the primitive fathers were fools or knaves, and most of them both one and the other. And it is easy to observe, the whole tenor of your argument tends to prove, thirdly, that no miracles were wrought by Christ or His apostles; and, fourthly, that these too were fools or knaves, or both. I am not agreed with you on any of these heads. My reasons I shall lay before you, in as free a manner, though not in so smooth or laboured language, as you have laid yours before the world.”

Bishop Warburton, who was no friend to Wesley, pronounced the answer to Middleton “a scholar-like thing”; though, he adds, “perhaps more temper might have been expected from this modern apostle.”[79]

It may be added, that the conclusion of Wesley’s letter was afterwards published, in a separate form, under the title of “A Plain Account of Genuine Christianity.” 12mo, 12 pages.[80]

9. “A Plain Account of the People called Methodists. In a letter to the Rev. Mr. Perronet, vicar of Shoreham.” 12mo, 34 pages. The substance of this pamphlet has been already given in previous chapters; but it may be added here, that Wesley’s “Plain Account” immediately evoked the following: “An Answer to a late pamphlet, entitled, ‘A Plain Account of the People called Methodists.’ Addressed to the Rev. Mr. Wesley. By a Clergyman of the Church of England. London: 1749.” 12mo, 31 pages. The reverend pamphleteer tells Wesley, that he has read his letter to Perronet, and considers “it to be as weak a performance as ever he met with”; and therefore, that he cannot allow “it to pass uncensured”; especially as by this “weak performance” Wesley was “sapping many of the truths and principles of Christianity, like other sectarists, under the specious pretence of greater sanctity and holiness.” If Wesley’s “performance” was “weak,” this of his opponent was feebleness itself.

10. “A Serious Answer to Dr. Trapp’s Four Sermons on the Sin, Folly, and Danger of being Righteous Overmuch. Extracted from Mr. Law.” 12mo, 48 pages. This production of the genius, piety, and pen of William Law was as grand a piece of writing as can be found in the English language. It is somewhat remarkable, however, that Wesley, in republishing that part of it which contains Law’s account of the ground of the Christian religion, should have put into the hands of his Methodist readers the author’s mystical views concerning the primeval kingdom of Lucifer and his angels, and the results of their rebellion and ruin. It is true, that Wesley, in a foot note, observes: “This is the theory of Jacob Behmen, but quite incapable of proof;” but then, in the same note, he says that, though the theory “is not supported by Scripture, it is, notwithstanding, probable.”

Of course, by republishing the writings of other men, Wesley made their sentiments his own, except in cases to which he himself makes objection. On this ground, we give the two extracts following. The first will help to exhibit one of the guiding principles of Wesley’s life; the other will show his estimate of the office and the use of human learning.

Addressing the younger clergy, he remarks: “Lay this down as an infallible principle, that an entire, absolute renunciation of all worldly interest, is the only possible foundation of that virtue which your station requires. Without this, all attempts after an exemplary piety are vain. Detest therefore, with the utmost abhorrence, all desires of making your fortunes, either by preferments or rich marriages, and let it be your only ambition to stand at the top of every virtue, as visible guides and patterns, to all that aspire after the perfection of holiness.”

The other extract is not of trifling importance. “Human learning is by no means to be rejected from religion; but if it is considered as a key, or the key, to the mysteries of our redemption, instead of opening to us the kingdom of God, it locks us up in our own darkness. God is an all-speaking, all-working, all-illuminating essence, possessing the depths of every creature according to its nature; and when we turn from all impediments, this Divine essence becomes as certainly the true light of our minds here, as it will be hereafter. This is not enthusiasm, but the words of truth and soberness; and it is the running away from this enthusiasm, that has made so many great scholars as useless to the church as tinkling cymbals, and Christendom a mere Babel of learned confusion.”

11. “The Manners of the Ancient Christians, extracted from a French Author.” 12mo, 24 pages. The French author, from whose works this was taken, was the renowned Claude Fleury, the associate of Bossuet and Fenelon; the preceptor of the Dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, and Berry; the friend of Louis XIV.; the author of an Ecclesiastical History, the fruit of thirty years of devoted study; a man of great learning and simplicity, of high integrity, and ardent piety; who died in 1723, at the age of 83.

12. “A Roman Catechism, faithfully drawn out of the allowed writings of the Church of Rome. With a Reply thereto.” 12mo, 79 pages. This was a republication of a work bearing the following title: “A Catechism truly representing the Doctrines and Practices of the Church of Rome, with an Answer thereunto. By a Protestant of the Church of England. London: 1686.” 12mo, 104 pages. On one page is the catechism, and on the opposite page the answer, throughout. Wesley neglects to acknowledge that the pamphlet was not an original production; and it has improperly been placed in the last edition of his collected works.

13. “A Letter to a Roman Catholic.” 12mo, 12 pages. Its object is to mollify the papist, by showing, that he and the protestant equally hold most of the great truths of the Christian religion; and that they therefore ought to live in peace and love. Wesley writes: “O brethren, let us not still fall out by the way! I hope to see you in heaven. And if I practise the religion above described, you dare not say I shall go to hell. You cannot think so. None can persuade you to it. Your own conscience tells you the contrary. Then, if we cannot as yet think alike in all things, at least, we may love alike. Herein we cannot possibly do amiss.”

14. “Minutes of Several Conversations between the Rev. Messrs. John and Charles Wesley and others.” Dublin: 1749.

15. It was also in this, or in a former year, that Wesley published his threepenny tract, entitled, “An Extract of the Life and Death of Mr. John Janeway,” a young man of remarkable piety, who died at the age of twenty-three, in the year 1657.

16. “A Christian Library. Consisting of Extracts and Abridgments of the Choicest Pieces of Practical Divinity which have been published in the English Tongue. In Fifty Volumes. By John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford. Bristol: printed by Felix Farley.”

This work was begun in 1749, and completed in 1755. A prodigious number of books were read. Folios and quartos had to be reduced to 12mo volumes. Some were abridged on horseback, and others at wayside inns and houses where Wesley tarried for a night. During the six years spent in finishing his task, he suffered a long and serious illness; had to provide his school at Kingswood with necessary books; wrote his “Explanatory Notes on the New Testament”; and was laboriously engaged in preaching Christ, and governing his societies. The work was Herculean. Such an enterprise had never before been attempted. It was a noble effort to make the masses—his own societies in particular—acquainted with a galaxy of the noblest men the Christian church has ever had. His design was to leave out whatever might be deemed objectionable or unimportant in sentiment, and superfluous in language; to divest practical theology from logical technicalities and unnecessary digressions; and to separate the rich ore of evangelical truth from the base alloy of Pelagian and Calvinian error. In some instances he failed in doing this. He writes:—“I was obliged to prepare most of these tracts for the press just as I could snatch time for it; not transcribing them; none expected it of me; but only marking the lines with my pen, and altering or adding a few words here or there, as I had mentioned in the preface. Besides, as it was not in my power to attend the press, that care necessarily devolved on others; through whose inattention a hundred passages were left in, which I had scratched out. It is probable too, I myself might overlook some sentences which were not suitable with my own principles. It is certain, the correctors of the press did this in not a few instances.”[81] This was written in 1772, as a reply to the charge, that, in his writings, he had contradicted himself. “If,” says he, “there are a hundred passages in the ‘Christian Library’ which contradict any or all of my doctrines, these are no proofs that I contradict myself. Be it observed once for all, citations from the ‘Christian Library’ prove nothing but the carelessness of the correctors.”[82]

This is an important fact to be borne in mind by those who are possessors of the first edition only. After the attack just mentioned, Wesley read the whole of the ‘Christian Library’ with careful attention, and marked with his pen the passages which he deemed objectionable in sentiment; and, from this corrected copy, the new edition, in thirty vols., octavo, issued in 1819-26, was printed.[83]

Wesley wrote not for pecuniary gain, but for the profit of his people. Three years before the work was finished, he had already been a loser to the amount of £200, no inconsiderable sum for a man like him. Still the publication went on, and, in due time, one of the grandest projects of his life was finished.

The first volume was published in 1749. Two years elapsed before the second was given to the public. In the preface, he affirms his belief, “that there is not in the world a more complete body of divinity, than is now extant in the English tongue, in the writings of the last and present century; and that, were a man to spend fourscore years, with the most indefatigable application, he could go but a little way, toward reading what had been published within the last hundred and fifty years.” His endeavour was “to extract such a collection of divinity as was all true; all agreeable to the oracles of God; all practical, unmixed with controversy; and all intelligible to plain men.”

The opening volume contains—1. The Epistles of the apostolical fathers, Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp, whom he believed to be “endued with the extraordinary assistance of the Holy Spirit,” and whose writings, “though not of equal authority with the holy Scriptures,” he considered to be “worthy of a much greater respect than any composures that have been made since.” 2. The Martyrdoms of Ignatius and Polycarp. 3. An Extract from the Homilies of Macarius, born about the year 301. 4. An Extract of John Arndt’s “True Christianity”; Arndt was an eminent protestant divine, who died in 1621.

1750

[Sidenote: 1750 Age 47]

Whitefield was now an evangelist at large,—the minister of no church in particular, but a preacher labouring for all. Early in January, he wrote: “I have offered Mr. Wesley to assist occasionally at his chapel. Oh that I may be a freedman, and ready to help all that preach and love the Lord Jesus in sincerity! I am a debtor to the greek and to the barbarian, to the wise and to the unwise; and think it my highest privilege to preach Christ and Him crucified to all.”[84] Accordingly, on Friday, January 19, Wesley read prayers at West Street chapel, and Whitefield delivered “a plain, affectionate discourse.” On the Sunday following, the order was reversed; Whitefield read the prayers, and Wesley preached; after which, they unitedly administered the sacrament to about twelve hundred people.[85] On Sunday, the 28th, the liturgy was read by Wesley, and Whitefield preached the sermon. The two friends were now visibly as well as really united. Wesley remarks: “By the blessing of God, one more stumbling block is removed. How wise is God in giving different talents to different preachers! Even Mr. Whitefield’s little improprieties, both of language and manner, were a means of profiting many, who would not have been touched by a more correct discourse, or a more calm and regular manner of speaking.”

The fraternization was not confined to Whitefield. In the same week, Howel Harris preached in the old Foundery, Wesley observing concerning him—“a powerful orator, both by nature and grace; but owing nothing to art or education.” “Thanks be to God,” writes the Countess of Huntingdon, “for the unanimity and love which have been displayed on this happy occasion. May the God of peace and harmony unite us all in a bond of affection! In forbearance toward each other, and mutual kindness, may we imitate His blessed disciples, so that all those who take knowledge of us may say, ‘See how these Christians love one another!’”[86]

We purposely refrain from following Whitefield in his wondrous wanderings; but it may be interjected here, that, during the year, when at Rotherham, the town crier was employed to give notice of a bear baiting, it being understood that Whitefield was the bear; and, accordingly, when he began to preach a mob surrounded him, and a row ensued. In Cumberland, his enemies injured his chaise, and cut off the tail of one of his horses. At Ulverstone, a clergyman, looking more like a butcher than a minister, charged a constable to arrest him. But none of these things checked his triumphal march. People, by thousands, flocked to hear him. At a single sacramental service, Grimshaw’s church, at Haworth, was thrice filled with communicants. From his leaving London to his reaching Edinburgh, he preached ninety times, to about a hundred and forty thousand people. At Lady Huntingdon’s, he seemed to think himself at the gates of paradise. He writes: “October 11.—For a day or two, her ladyship has had five clergymen under her roof. Her house is indeed a Bethel. To us in the ministry, it looks like a college. We have the sacrament every morning, heavenly conversation all day, and preach at night. This is to live at court, indeed.”[87]

Wesley began the year by preaching, in London, to a large congregation at four o’clock in the morning. At the end of the month, he paid a visit to Canterbury, where a society had been already formed; and, during three days, preached in the butter market,[88] and other places, including an antinomian meeting-house, situated in Godly Alley.

The introduction of Methodism into the city of Canterbury was opposed not only by mobs, but by parsons. Hence the issue of the following furious effusion: “The Impostor Detected: or, the Counterfeit Saint turned inside out. Containing a full discovery of the horrid blasphemies and impieties, taught by those diabolical seducers, called Methodists, under colour of the only real Christianity. Particularly intended for the use of the city of Canterbury, where that mystery of iniquity has lately begun to work. By John Kirkby, rector of Blackmanstone, in Kent.” London: 1750. 8vo, 55 pages.

Meek Mr. Kirkby tells his Canterbury friends, that the Methodists, “spiritual Ephraimites, are the true successors of the pharisees, in hypocrisy and spiritual pride, and nauseously abuse sacred things.” Wesley is accused of “matchless impudence and wickedness, and of impious cant. He is a chameleon; uses blasphemous jargon; basely belies Christianity; and nonsense is the smallest of his failings. In him the angel of darkness has made his incarnate appearance; and he and his brother are murderers of sense as well as souls, and just about as fitly cut out for poets as a lame horse would be for a rope dancer.” The polite author continues: “the sacred names of God and Christ are dreadfully blasphemed by the Methodists to serve their wicked purposes: Hypocrisy is their trade, and seeming sanctity their disguise. Wesley and his abettors are not only impious blasphemers of God, but also the most wicked damners of their brethren. Among them religion is impiously mocked; and the senseless effusions of a dissembling hypocrite are interpreted to be the language of the Holy Ghost.”

Quantum sufficit. It is time to bid adieu to the Christian rector of Blackmanstone.

Returning to London, Wesley spent Sunday, February 4, with the Rev. Charles Manning, vicar of Hayes, in whose church he preached. He writes: “what a change is here within a year or two! Instead of the parishioners going out of church, the people come now from many miles round. The church was filled in the afternoon likewise; and all behaved well but the singers, whom I therefore reproved before the congregation.”

Mr. Manning, for some years, was one of Wesley’s most faithful friends. Wesley preached in his church at least fifteen times; and through him also gained access to the churches at Uxbridge and Hillingdon. Mr. Manning attended the sittings of Wesley’s conference in 1747; he was the most noted of the Methodist clergy in Middlesex, and was subjected to a large amount of petty persecution. Clergymen would turn their backs upon him while he was reading prayers or preaching. The singers were most obstreporous. His churchyard was used for fighting cocks. On one occasion, William Blackall came into the church, while the psalm was being sung, with a pipe in his mouth and a pot of beer in his hand, and, seating himself in his pew; behaved with the greatest indecency during the whole of Manning’s sermon. On the 5th of November, while he was preaching, a constable and three other fellows took possession of the belfry, rung the bells, and spat upon the heads of the people seated in their pews beneath. Such was the heathenism, in the midst of which Charles Manning laboured. No wonder that Wesley thought even decent behaviour a fact worth mentioning.

On the 8th of February, London was startled, in the midst of its noisy bustle, by the rockings and rumblings of an earthquake. The inhabitants, struck with panic, rushed into the streets, fearing to be buried beneath the ruins of their tottering houses. Exactly a month afterwards, a second shock occurred, more violent and of longer continuance. Ten days later, Gosport, Portsmouth, and the Isle of Wight were shaken. People became frantic with fear. Meanwhile, a crazy soldier took upon himself to prophesy, that, on the 4th of April, there would be another earthquake, which would destroy half of London and Westminster.[89] The prophet was sent to Bedlam for his foolhardiness; but thousands were credulous enough to believe the silly prognostication of this mad enthusiast. When the looked for night arrived, Tower Hill, Moorfields, Hyde Park, and other open places, were filled with men, women, and children, who had fled from houses which they expected to become heaps of ruins; and there, filled with direful apprehensions, they spent long hours of darkness, beneath an inclement sky, in momentary expectation of seeing the soldier’s oracular utterance fulfilled. Multitudes ran about the streets in frantic consternation, quite certain that the final judgment was about to open; and that, before the dawn of another day, all would hear the blast of the archangel’s trumpet. Places of worship were packed, especially the chapels of the Methodists, where crowds came during the whole of that dreary night, knocking and begging for admittance. At midnight, amid dense darkness, and surrounded by affrighted multitudes, Whitefield stood up in Hyde Park, and, with his characteristic pathos, and in tones majestically grand, took occasion to call the attention of listening multitudes to the coming judgment, the wreck of nature, and the sealing of all men’s destinies.

The scene was awful. London was in sackcloth. Women made themselves what Horace Walpole calls “earthquake gowns, that is, warm gowns in which to sit out of doors all night.” Within three days, seven hundred and thirty coaches had been counted passing Hyde Park Corner filled with families removing to the country.[90] Sherlock, bishop of London, a fortnight before the expected shock,[91] had published a letter, addressed “to the clergy and people of London and Westminster, on occasion of the late earthquakes”; and sixty thousand copies had been already sold to eager purchasers. This 12mo tract of twelve pages was ably written, and was a faithful warning of the just judgments which the people and the nation might expect unless they repented of the enormous sins with which they were now disgraced. “The gospel,” says Sherlock, “had been not only rejected, but treated with malicious scorn. The press swarmed with books, some to dispute, and some to ridicule the great truths of religion, both natural and revealed. Blasphemy and horrid imprecations might be heard on every hand. Lewdness and debauchery so prevailed among the lowest classes, as to keep them idle, poor, and miserable. By lewd pictures, sold in the open day, the abominations of the public stews were exposed to view. Histories or romances of the vilest prostitutes were published. Friendly visits for conversation had degenerated into meetings for gambling; and men, who had lost all principles of religion, and were lost to all sense of morality, in time of sickness, when fears of futurity were revived, became an easy prey to popish priests, and greedily swallowed their absolution cordials, which, like other cordials, gave present ease, but wrought no cures.”

Sherlock’s letter was timely, and faithful, and did him honour; but it also helped to create the excitement which gave credence to the mad soldier’s prophecy, and which led to the strange scenes witnessed during the night of April 3, and the early morn of April 4. There can be no question that, at this period, the wickedness of London and of the nation was enormous. The people were not only glutted with all the inordinate gratifications and pleasures common to the country; but they had grown delicate in vice, and had adopted all the dainties of debauchery from abroad; and it is a fact, that the very parties, who fled from London for fear of another earthquake, on returning, seemed desirous of apologizing for their cowardice by plunging into revels and riotings more dissolute than ever. Conscious of their folly, they imputed blame to Sherlock, for raising unnecessary fears, by his pastoral, excellent, and truly seasonable charge. Grub Street pamphlets, the harangues of coffee house libertines, and the craven and calumnious whispers of drawing rooms, once more filled with fugitives returned to forsaken homes, soon made his lordship the public butt of abusive ridicule.[92]

Where was Wesley in this unparalleled commotion? For nearly three weeks after the first shock, on February 8, he remained in London, and held a “solemn fast day,” and two watchnight meetings, besides other services, at all of which there were remarkable manifestations of the presence and power of God. He then, on February 27, set out for Bristol; but was succeeded by his brother, who preached, at least, on four different occasions, respecting the fearful events which were then exciting the public mind. One of these was published, and is now included in Wesley’s collected sermons, with the title “The Cause and Cure of Earthquakes.” He also issued a pamphlet, entitled “Hymns occasioned by the Earthquake, March 8, 1750. In two parts.” The hymns were nineteen in number, some of which are published in the Methodist Hymn-book. One of these is the hymn numbered 555; and another is that commencing with the line: “How weak the thoughts and vain.” Two or three of the verses may be quoted here:—

“How happy then are we, Who build, O Lord, on Thee! What can our foundation shock? Though the shattered earth remove, Stands our city on a rock, On the rock of heavenly love.

A house we call our own, Which cannot be o’erthrown; In the general ruin sure, Storms and earthquakes it defies; Built immovably secure, Built eternal in the skies.

High on Thy great white throne, O King of saints, come down; In the New Jerusalem Now triumphantly descend; Let the final trump proclaim Joys begun which ne’er shall end.”

Such was Charles Wesley’s happy, hopeful, buoyant spirit, when all around him were well-nigh paralysed with fear.

During this earthquake commotion, the once gay and sprightly, but for long, long years, the cruelly treated and broken hearted Mehetabel Wesley was taken to the peace and purity of heaven. Of all the Wesley children, none were gifted with finer poetic genius than she. An unhappy marriage with an ignorant, drunken, brutal glazier, of the name of Wright, clouded, with distressing darkness, a life which ought to have been full of sunshine and of happiness. At the time of her peaceful death, Wesley was in Wales; but his brother had the mournful pleasure of repeatedly seeing her in her last sickness, of following her to her quiet grave, and of improving her blissful release from the sorrows of an afflicted life, by preaching from the text: “Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.” She died on the 21st of March, in the fifty-third year of her age.

On his way from London to Bristol, besides preaching at Colnbrook, Reading, Blewbury, Oxford, and Cirencester, Wesley read Dr. Bates’s “Elenchus Motuum nuperorum in Anglia,” and pronounces his thoughts generally just, and his Latin not much inferior to Cæsar’s, but says “he has no more mercy on the Puritans, than upon Cromwell.”

Seventeen days were spent in Bristol and at Kingswood, during which he began writing his French Grammar; met the preachers every day at four in the afternoon; and expelled a boy from Kingswood school, who had studiously laboured to corrupt all the others. The Kingswood society was stationary; that at Bristol a great deal worse. They complained of the want of lively preachers, and had among them an almost universal deadness. He writes: “What cause have we to be humbled over this people! Last year more than a hundred members were added; this year near a hundred are lost. Such a decay has not been in this society, since it began to meet together.”

On the 19th of March, Wesley and Christopher Hopper set out for Ireland; but it was not until the 6th of April that they were able to sail from Holyhead to Dublin. In riding to Brecknock, Wesley’s horse fell twice; but without hurt either to man or beast. While they were crossing the Welsh mountains, rain was incessant; and the wind blew so boisterously, that it was with the utmost difficulty they could save themselves from being blown over their horses’ heads. In a cottage on the road, Wesley “sat down for three or four hours, and translated Aldrich’s Logic.” At Holyhead, he overtook John Jane, a preacher, in the third year of his itinerancy, who had set out from Bristol with three shillings in his pocket. For six nights out of seven he had been entertained by utter strangers; and, on his arrival, had just a penny left. Five months afterwards, this brave-hearted itinerant died, his last words being, “I have found the love of God in Christ Jesus.” A friend, who was with him at the time, observes:[93] “all his clothes, linen and woollen, his stockings, hat, and wig, are not thought sufficient to pay his funeral expenses, which amount to £1 17_s._ 3_d._ All the money he had was one shilling and fourpence. But he had enough. Food, raiment, and a good conscience were all he wanted here.” “Enough,” adds Wesley, “for any unmarried preacher of the gospel to leave to his executors.”

Wesley and Hopper embarked at Holyhead on the 29th of March, and found on board Mr. Griffith, of Carnarvonshire, “a clumsy, overgrown, hardfaced man, who poured out such a volley of ribaldry, obscenity, and blasphemy, every second or third word being an oath, as was scarce ever heard at Billingsgate.” Wesley says: “His countenance I could only compare to that which I saw in Drury Lane thirty years ago, of one of the ruffians in ‘Macbeth.’ Finding there was no room for me to speak, I retired into my cabin, and left him to Mr. Hopper.” Hopper adds: “God stopped his mouth, and he was confounded.”[94] Jonah was on board; and, after being tossed by a tremendous storm for two and twenty hours, the Methodist itinerants were thankful to get back to the bay that they had left.

On landing, Wesley preached to “a room full of men, daubed with gold and silver,” some of whom “rose up and went away railing and blaspheming.” The next night, he was about to preach again, when Griffith, at the head of a drunken rabble, burst open both the outer and inner doors, struck Wesley’s host, kicked the poor man’s wife, and, with twenty full mouthed oaths and curses, demanded, “Where is the parson?” Wesley was locked in another room, the door of which Griffith broke. The man was far too big to be a climber; but, notwithstanding this, impelled by his bad passions, he mounted a chair to search for Wesley on the top of the bed tester; but the burly detective fell down backwards, and then with his troop departed. Wesley having descended to a lower room, and spent half an hour in prayer with a small company of poor people gathered for the purpose, Griffith and his gang again assembled. Griffith burst into the house; a young girl, standing in the passage with a pail of water, drenched him from head to foot, and made the bully cry “Murder! murder!” Another locked the door, when, finding himself a prisoner, the poor wretch had to beg most piteously to be released, and to give his word of honour, that he and his companions would quietly decamp.

At length, after a detention which had severely taxed Wesley’s patience, he and Hopper again embarked, and on April 6 arrived safe at Dublin.

To his great annoyance, he found that, during his absence, the Dublin society had been beguiled by a man of the name of Roger Ball, who had been employed to preach to the Dublin congregations, and had been domiciled as a member of Wesley’s family. The man was an antinomian of the worst description, a crafty debauchee, full of deceit, and holding the most abominable errors, by means of which he had done a large amount of mischief. Some were disposed to give up the sacrament; and all were inclined to drop the Tuesday and Thursday preaching, on the ground that “the dear Lamb is the only teacher.” For years, this infamous man hung upon the skirts of the Methodist societies.

Six days after his arrival in Dublin, Wesley had an unexpected interview with a woman of great, though unenviable fame. Lætitia Pilkington was the daughter of a Dublin physician, and was born in that city, in 1712. Her sprightliness and charms attracted numerous admirers, and among others, the Rev. Matthew Pilkington, author of a well known volume of miscellanies. To this gentleman she was married. Dissension soon sprung up, which ended in separation. She then fell into a licentious life, and once was in the Marshalsea for debt. Colley Cibber obtained her release from prison, and procured her a subscription of fifteen guineas, with which she opened a book shop in St. James’s Street. She was the author of a comedy, called “The Turkish Court”; a tragedy, entitled “The Roman Father”; and also another piece, “The Trial of Constancy,” and other poems. Her most famous production, however, was her own Life, in two volumes, written with indecent freedom, but shrewd and entertaining, and displaying extensive knowledge of the world. Dean Swift was one of her intimate friends, and had a high opinion of her intellectual faculties. Her memory was remarkable, if it be true, as stated, that she was able to repeat almost the whole of Shakspeare by heart.

These particulars will give increasing interest to the following extract from Wesley’s Journal: “1750. April 12.—I breakfasted with one of the society, and found she had a lodger I little thought of. It was the famous Mrs. Pilkington, who soon made an excuse for following me upstairs. I talked with her seriously about an hour; we then sang, ‘Happy Magdalene.’ She appeared to be exceedingly struck: how long the impression may last, God knows.”

Mrs. Pilkington was now thirty-eight years of age. Five months afterwards she died.

Having spent thirteen days in Dublin, Wesley set out, on the 19th of April, on a country excursion. At Portarlington, he preached to almost all the gentry in the town. At Mountmellick, he found the society much increased in grace, and yet lessened in number; a case which he thought was without a parallel. At Tullamore, many of his congregation were drunk; but the bulk paid great attention. He rebuked the society for their lukewarmness and covetousness; and had the pleasure of seeing them evince signs of penitence. At Tyrrell’s Pass, he found a great part of the society “walking in the light, and praising God all the day long.” At Cooley-lough, he preached to backsliders. In the midst of the service at Athlone, a man passed by on a fine prancing horse, which drew off a large part of the congregation. Wesley paused, and then raising his voice, said, “If there are any more of you who think it is of more concern to see a dancing horse than to hear the gospel of Christ, pray go after them.” The renegades heard the rebuke; and the majority at once returned. At Aghrim, he preached “to a well meaning, sleepy people,” and “strove to shake some of them out of sleep by preaching as sharply as he could.” At Nenagh, he preached in the assembly room. At Limerick, he “told the society freely and plainly of their faults.” At Killdorrery, a clergyman would talk with him whether he would or not; and this made him too late for preaching at Rathcormuck in the evening.

Here let us pause for a moment. The clergyman at Rathcormuck was the Rev. Richard Lloyd, who, twelve months before, had permitted Wesley to preach in his pulpit, and had shown him great attention. On this occasion, likewise, there was the same brotherly affection. It so happened, that, at the time of Wesley’s visit, there was an Irish funeral. An immense crowd of people had assembled, to do honour to the dead; Mr. Lloyd read part of the burial service in the church; after which Wesley preached; and, as soon as his discourse was ended, the customary Irish howl was given. Wesley writes: “It was not a song, but a dismal, inarticulate yell, set up at the grave by four shrill voiced women, who were hired for that purpose. But I saw not one that shed a tear; for that, it seems, was not in their bargain.”

Mr. Lloyd got into trouble by his allowing Wesley to occupy his church. The neighbouring clergy complained to the bishop. The bishop directed Mr. Davies, the archdeacon, to deliver to Lloyd an episcopal order, that he must not “suffer any person to preach in his church, who was not a licensed preacher of that or the neighbouring diocese.” In a long letter to the bishop, dated “July 4, 1750,” and sent as an answer to his order, Mr. Lloyd remarks:—

“I confess that Mr. Wesley has preached (though seldomer than has been wished) in my church. And I thought, that a fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, who is admitted to preach before the university there, and has preached in many churches in London, and other parts of England, as also in Dublin, might be permitted to preach here also.” He adds: “The mobs at Cork, and some other places in this kingdom, have obliged the Methodists to seek the protection of government, which undoubtedly they will have. Several of them, of good fortunes, to escape the persecution, are preparing to settle in England; and, because the clergy are supposed to have encouraged it, numbers of others resolve to quit our church. At this rate, we may, in a short time, have only the refuse left. Religion, my lord, is now at a very low ebb in the world; and we can scarce see the outward form of it remaining. But corrupt as the world is, it is thought better that the devil should reign, than that Mr. Wesley should preach, especially in a church.”

On the same day, the bishop answered as follows:—

“CLOYNE, July 4, 1750.

“REVEREND SIR,—I have that opinion of your prudence, that I doubt not you will be cautious whom you admit into your pulpit; and that you will avoid doing or countenancing anything that may offend your brethren of the clergy, or give occasion to mobs and riots.

“I am, reverend sir, your faithful brother and humble servant,

“G. CLOYNE.”[95]

Blarney seemed to succeed when peremptoriness had failed; Wesley had preached for the last time in Rathcormuck church.

Leaving Rathcormuck on May 19, Wesley rode on to Cork; and, at eight o’clock the next morning (Sunday), had a large and deeply attentive congregation in Hammond’s Marsh. Wesley declares, that he had “seldom seen a more quiet and orderly assembly at any church in England or Ireland.” He designed to preach in the marsh again at night; but, during the afternoon, received a message from the mayor, Mr. Crone, that he would have no more mobs and riots; and that, if Wesley attempted to carry out his purpose, he would be prepared for him. Wesley, not wishful to give offence, relinquished his purpose of preaching out of doors, and conducted the evening service in the chapel; but no sooner had he commenced doing so than his mightiness, the mayor, came with the town drummers, and an immense rabble, and continued drumming as long as Wesley continued preaching. On leaving the chapel, Wesley was hemmed in by the mayor’s mob. Observing a serjeant standing by, Wesley desired him to keep the king’s peace. The king’s officer replied, “Sir, I have no orders to do that.” And so, amid all sorts of missiles, the poor, harmless parson, had to make his way, through a brutish crowd, over Dant’s Bridge, to the house of Mr. Jenkins. Some of the congregation were more roughly handled, particularly Mr. Jones, who was covered with filth, and escaped with his life almost by miracle.

The next day Wesley rode to Bandon; but, for four hours in the afternoon, the mob of Cork marched in grand procession, and then burnt him in effigy.

The day after, May 22, the mob and drummers met at the house of John Stockdale, the tallowchandler, whom they had nearly murdered twelve months before, and whose wife was then abused most brutally. The mayor was sent for, and came with a company of soldiers. Addressing the mob, he said: “Lads, once, twice, thrice, I bid you go home; now I have done”; and away he went, taking the soldiers with him. Of course the “lads” knew how to interpret his worship’s sham loyalty, and, accordingly, at once proceeded to smash all Stockdale’s windows.

On the following day, May 23, the infuriated crowd still patrolled the streets, abused all that were called Methodists, and threatened to murder them, and to pull down their houses. On the 24th, they again assaulted Stockdale’s dwelling; broke down the boards he had nailed up against his windows; destroyed the window frames and shutters; and damaged a considerable part of his stock in trade. On the 25th Roger O’Ferrall put up an advertisement, at the public Exchange, to the effect that he was ready to march at the head of any rabble, and to pull down all the houses that harboured “swaddlers.”

During this week of misrule and terror, in which not Mr. Crone but king Mob was mayor of Cork, Wesley was peaceably preaching in the town of Bandon; but, on the evening of Saturday the 26th, with a congregation in the main street, twice as large as usual, he was disgracefully interrupted. When he had preached about a quarter of an hour, a drunken clergyman, with a large stick in his hand, placed himself by the side of Wesley, and began a preconcerted disturbance; but, before he had uttered a dozen words, three resolute women seized him, pulled him into a house, expostulated with him, and then dismissed him through a garden, where the poor maudlin priest, who had intended to stop Wesley’s mouth, fell in love with one of Wesley’s admirers, who, in order to extricate herself from his brutal embrace, had to repel force by force and to cuff him most soundly. Thus the parson was got rid of, leaving behind, however, three young gents—his friends—all armed with pistols, more dangerous than even his reverence’s shillalah; but the belligerent youths were quietly arrested, by others of Wesley’s audience, and were taken away with more civility than they merited. And, then, to complete this fantastic display of Irish bravery, the last hero in the plot came on with the utmost fury; but “a butcher of the town, not a Methodist, used him as he would an ox, bestowing one or two lusty blows upon his head, and thus cooled his courage. So,” says Wesley, “I quietly finished my discourse.”

The next day, Sunday, May 27, Wesley preached thrice in Bandon, and wrote a letter to the mayor of Cork, the conclusion of which is worth quoting:—

“I fear God, and honour the king. I earnestly desire to be at peace with all men. I have not willingly given any offence, either to the magistrates, the clergy, or any of the inhabitants of the city of Cork; neither do I desire anything of them, but to be treated (I will not say as a clergyman, a gentleman, or a Christian, but) with such justice and humanity as are due to a Jew, a Turk, or a pagan.”

Wesley now turned towards Dublin. One day, he was on horseback, with but an hour or two’s intermission, from five o’clock in the morning till nearly eleven o’clock at night; and yet only five hours after this, he again set out, and made the longest day’s journey that he ever rode—about ninety miles. At midnight, he came to Aymo, where he wished to sleep; but the woman who kept the inn refused him admittance, and, moreover, let loose four dogs to worry him.

He spent only two days in Dublin, when he began a second visit to the provincial societies. He writes: “June 21.—I returned to Closeland, and preached in the evening to a little, earnest company. Oh who should drag me into a great city, if I did not know there is another world! How gladly could I spend the remainder of a busy life in solitude and retirement.”

At Portarlington, he had the unthankful task of reconciling the differences of two termagant women, who talked for three hours, and grew warmer and warmer, till they were almost distracted. Wesley says: “I perceived there was no remedy but prayer; so a few of us wrestled with God for above two hours.” The result was, after three hours of cavilling and two hours of prayer, anger gave place to love, and the quarrelsome ladies fell upon each other’s neck. Here also, there being no English service, he attended the French church service, and writes: “I have sometimes thought Mr. Whitefield’s action was violent; but he is a mere post to Mr. Calliard.”

Wesley then proceeded to Mountmellick, Montrath, Roscrea, Birr, Tullamore, Athlone, Aghrim, Ahaskra, Longford, Kenagh, and Tyrrell’s Pass. On the 14th of July he got back to Dublin, where he spent the next eight days, and then embarked for England. The day before he sailed, he wrote as follows to his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell:—

“DUBLIN, July 21, 1750.

“DEAR SIR,—I have had so hurrying a time for two or three months, as I scarce ever had before; such a mixture of storms and clear sunshine, of huge applause and huge opposition. Indeed, the Irish, in general, keep no bounds. I think there is not such another nation in Europe, so

‘Impetuous in their love and in their hate.’

“That any of the Methodist preachers are alive is a clear proof of an overruling Providence; for we know not where we are safe. A week or two ago, in a time of perfect peace, twenty people assaulted one of our preachers, and a few that were riding with him, near Limerick. He asked their captain what they intended to do, who calmly answered, ‘To murder you!’ and accordingly presented a pistol, which snapped twice or thrice. Mr. Fenwick then rode away. The other pursued, and fired after him, but could not overtake him. Three of his companions they left for dead. But some neighbouring justice of the peace did not take it well; so they procured the cutthroats to be apprehended; and it is supposed they will be in danger of transportation, though murder is a venial sin in Ireland.

“I am, dear sir,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[96]

Another letter, likewise written in Dublin, though a little out of chronological order, is too important to be omitted. It was addressed to Joseph Cownley, just after Wesley’s arrival in the Irish metropolis, and contains an opinion on preaching, which, in this smooth-tongued age, is well worth pondering.

“DUBLIN, April 12, 1750.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I doubt you are in a great deal more danger from honour than from dishonour. So it is with me. I always find there is most hazard in sailing upon smooth water. When the winds blow, and the seas rage, even the sleepers will rise and call upon God.

“From Newcastle to London, and from London to Bristol, God is everywhere reviving His work. I find it so now in Dublin, although there has been great imprudence in some, whereby grievous wolves have lately crept in among us, not sparing the flock; by whom some souls have been utterly destroyed, and others wounded, who are not yet recovered.[97] Those who ought to have stood in the gap did not; but I trust they will be wiser for the time to come. After a season, I think it will be highly expedient for you to labour in Ireland again.

“I see a danger you are in, which perhaps you do not see yourself. Is it not most pleasing to me, as well as to you, to be always preaching of the love of God? Without doubt so it is. But yet it would be utterly wrong and unscriptural to preach of nothing else. Let the law always prepare for the gospel. I scarce ever spoke more earnestly here of the love of God in Christ than I did last night; but it was after I had been tearing the unawakened in pieces. Go thou and do likewise. It is true, the love of God in Christ alone feeds His children; but even they are to be guided as well as fed, yea, and often physicked too; and the bulk of our hearers must be purged before they are fed, else we only feed the disease. Beware of all honey. It is the best extreme; but it is an extreme.

“I am your affectionate brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[98]

Upon the whole, Wesley was well satisfied with the work in Ireland. He writes: “I had the satisfaction of observing how greatly God had blessed my fellow labourers, and how many sinners were saved from the error of their ways. Many of these had been eminent for all manner of sins. Many had been Roman Catholics; and I suppose the number of these would have been far greater, had not the good protestants, as well as the popish priests, taken true pains to hinder them.”[99]

Wesley’s “fellow labourers,” however, gave him trouble as well as joy. Dr. Whitehead has inserted, in his Life of Wesley, the following extracts of letters, written to Edward and Charles Perronet, during the present year. They seem somewhat testy, and, we incline to think, were written in a querulous frame of mind, to which all men are, more or less, liable. We give them as we find them.

“I have abundance of complaints to make, as well as to hear. I have scarce any one on whom I can depend, when I am a hundred miles off. ’Tis well if I do not run away soon, and leave them to cut and shuffle for themselves. Here” [in Ireland] “is a glorious people; but oh! where are the shepherds? The Society at Cork have fairly sent me word, that they will take care of themselves, and erect themselves into a Dissenting congregation. I am weary of these sons of Zeruiah: they are too hard for me. Charles and you behave as I want you to do; but you cannot, or will not, preach where I desire. Others can and will preach where I desire; but they do not behave as I want them to do. I have a fine time between the one and the other. I think both Charles and you have, in the general, a right sense of what it is to serve as sons in the gospel; and if all our helpers had had the same, the work of God would have prospered better, both in England and Ireland. I have not one preacher with me, and not six in England, whose wills are broken to serve me thus.”[100]

This is a dark picture; but we still think, that, though Wesley’s first helpers were far from perfect, his complaint concerning them is too strongly worded. Biliousness makes even the best men fretful, and it may be fairly supposed that Wesley himself was not free from this.

Wesley’s passage from Dublin to Bristol was stormy and dangerous. There was a combination of wind, thunder, rain, and darkness. The sea ran mountains high. The ship had no goods, and little ballast, and rolled most fearfully. He and Christopher Hopper began to pray; the wind was hushed; the sea fell; the clouds dispersed; and, on July 24, they arrived in safety.

Ten days before his arrival, a long and most scandalous letter, of nearly three folio columns, was published in The Bristol Weekly Intelligencer; but was far too scurrilous to be answered. Some parts of it are literally obscene, and must not be quoted. The following are among the most mildly expressed charges. The “gifted itinerants,” who “had been bred up as tailors, masons, colliers, tinkers, and sow-gelders,” made it their “business to talk about the other world, in order to maintain themselves in this.” They were “of a gloomy temper, and rueful countenance,” holding the doctrines, that “the Deity is an arbitrary being; that positive institutions are more obligatory than moral duties; and that man is not a free agent, but a mere machine.” Their followers were—(1) The most ignorant and credulous, who were “apt to admire everything that was new, surprising, and mysterious”; (2) the old, melancholy, and sick, who were ready to trust any one, that could, with confidence, promise to put them in a way of safety; (3) notorious bad livers, who made a great noise about religion, hoping to be happy hereafter without being good here; and (4) the female sex, who received the preachers very kindly into their houses, and, for their sakes, neglected and left their husbands and their families. In their preaching, the itinerants “interlarded their miscellaneous thoughts with a whole effusion of Scripture texts, without regard to their just sense or proper application; they roared, raved, thundered, and stunned their congregations, using every variation of voice, and all manner of bodily agitations, and attributed the whole to the powerful operations of the Holy Ghost. Their proper friends were the Jesuits, and they opposed peace and order, and a regular government in church and state. They bred ill opinions about the clergy, by insinuating that they had more regard for their tithes than for their flocks, their pleasures than their prayers; and that they strove more for good livings than for eternal life.”

Such are meek specimens of the long letter published in the midst of the Bristol Methodists.

Wesley spent six days at Bristol, during which he preached at Point’s Pool, “in the midst of the butchers, and all the rebel rout that neither fear God nor reverence man.” He was greatly disheartened at finding the Kingswood family considerably lessened. “I wonder,” he writes, “how I am withheld from dropping the whole design; so many difficulties have continually attended it.”

On July 30, he set out for Shepton-Mallet, and, for five hours, rode through an incessant rain and a furious wind, till he was “drenched to the very soles of his feet.” Next day, he came to Shaftesbury, and preached to a crowded congregation, including “the chief opposers of John Haime; but none stirred, none spoke, none smiled; many were in tears; and many others were filled with joy unspeakable.”

He then proceeded, by way of Collumpton, to Tiverton, to him a sacred place as containing the ashes of his brother Samuel. He preached in the market place. One of his hearers was Miss Sampson, a young lady of five and twenty, the daughter of a Baptist minister. She became one of the first members of the Tiverton society; married James Cotty, an itinerant preacher; and died in peace on New Year’s day, 1819.[101] Tiverton was a place which Wesley often visited, and sometimes (as we shall see hereafter) a place which gave him not the most courteous welcome.

Leaving Tiverton, he went to Cornwall, and found that, throughout the entire county, the societies had “suffered great loss for want of discipline.” The largest society was at St. Just, and contained a “greater proportion of believers” than he had found in any other society in the kingdom. It was during this visit of three weeks’ continuance, that the first watchnight was held in Cornwall. He preached at least thirty times, held a quarterly meeting at St. Ives, at which were present the stewards of all the Cornish societies; and, besides other books, read what he calls an “odd one,” entitled “The General Delusion of Christians with regard to Prophecy”; and was convinced of what he had long suspected: “(1) That the Montanists, in the second and third centuries were real, scriptural Christians;[102] and (2) that the grand reason why the miraculous gifts were so soon withdrawn, was, not only that faith and holiness were well-nigh lost, but that dry, formal, orthodox men began even to ridicule whatever gifts they had not themselves; and to deny them all, as either madness or imposture.”

In returning, he called again at Tiverton, where the meadow in which he preached “was full from side to side, and many stood in the gardens and orchards round.” At Hillfarrance, “three or four boors would have been rude if they durst; but the odds against them was too great.” At Bridgewater, he had “a well behaved company.” At Shaftesbury, a constable came, and said, “Sir, the mayor discharges you from preaching in this borough any more.” Wesley replied, “While King George gives me leave to preach, I shall not ask leave of the mayor of Shaftesbury.” At Salisbury, he preached in the chapel which formerly was Westley Hall’s, a poor woman endeavouring to interrupt by uttering an inarticulate and dismal yell. Behaviour like this was now, at Salisbury, of common occurrence; the misconduct of Hall afforded the children of darkness an occasion of triumph. The poor Methodists were loaded with infamy and insults on his account. One of them was Mrs. Barbara Hunt, who, after a membership of sixty-three years, fell asleep in Jesus, on July 22, 1813.[103] From Salisbury, Wesley proceeded to Winterburn and to Reading, and, on September 8, after a six months’ absence, got back to London.

A week later, he wrote: “September 15.—I read a short ‘Narrative of Count Zinzendorf’s Life, written by himself.’ Was there ever such a Proteus under the sun as this Lord Freydeck, Domine de Thurstain, etc., etc.? For he has almost as many names as he has faces or shapes. O when will he learn (with all his learning) simplicity and godly sincerity? When will he be an upright follower of the Lamb, so that no guile may be found in his mouth?”

To some this language may seem somewhat harsh; but was it so? Take the commencement of a letter which Zinzendorf addressed to the Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1749. “We, Lewis, by Divine providence, bishop, Liturgus, and Ordinary of the churches known by the name of the Brethren; and, under the auspices of the same, Advocate during life, with full power over the hierarchy of the Slavonic Unity; Custos Rotulorum, and Prolocutor both of the general Synod and of the Tropus of instruction; by these presents declare,” etc. Or take the following from Spangenberg, who says he thus enumerates all the titles of the count, because he not unfrequently availed himself of them:—“The individual whose character I have attempted to pourtray, was Nicolas Lewis, Count and Lord of Zinzendorf and Pottendorf, lord of the baronies of Freydeck, Schöneck, Thurnstein, and the vale of Wachovia, lord of the manor of Upper, Middle, and Lower Bertholdsdorf, Hereditary Warden of the Chace to his imperial Roman majesty, in the Duchy of Austria, below the Ens, and at one time Aulic and Justicial Counsellor to the Elector of Saxony.” Compare this sickening bombast with Wesley’s most flattering description of himself: “John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford.” Unfortunately we shall have to return to this high-flown German gentleman.

It seems to have been some time during the present year, that the Methodists of London began to occupy the French church, in Grey Eagle Street, Spitalfields. This chapel had been built by the French protestant refugees, and is said to have had for its minister, from 1700 to 1705, the eminent French protestant preacher, James Saurin. It is now a part of the brewery of Truman, Buxton, and Hanbury.[104] Here, on September 21, Wesley held a watchnight, and remarks: “I often wonder at the peculiar providence of God on these occasions. I do not know that, in so many years, one person has ever been hurt, either in London, Bristol, or Dublin, in going so late in the night to and from all parts of the town.”

Wesley’s stay in London was of short duration. On September 24, he left for Kingswood, where he spent a month in revising and preparing for the school the works following: Parochial Antiquities, by White Kennet, bishop of Peterborough; Grecian Antiquities, by Archbishop Potter; and Hebrew Antiquities, by Mr. Lewis. He also wrote, at this time, his “Short History of England,” and his “Short Roman History”; and nearly finished his abridgment of Cave’s Primitive Christianity, which he had begun about two years before. On October 24, he returned to London, and here, with the exception of short journeys to Windsor, Canterbury, and Leigh, he remained till the year was ended.

His publications, during 1750, were as follows.—

1. “Desiderii Erasmi Colloquia Selecta. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 85 pages.

2. “Phædri Fabulæ Selectæ. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 35 pages.

3. “A Compendium of Logic.” 12mo, 33 pages. This was a translation of Dr. Henry Aldrich’s “Artis Logicæ Compendium. Oxon: 1691” [8vo]. “Logic,” says Wesley, “is the art of apprehending things clearly, judging truly, and reasoning conclusively. What is it, viewed in another light, but the art of learning and teaching; whether by convincing or persuading? What is there, then, in the whole compass of science, to be desired in comparison of it? It is good for this, at least (wherever it is understood), to make people talk less; by showing them both what is, and what is not, to the point; and how extremely hard it is to prove anything.”[105] It is well known, that Wesley himself was an adept in the art of logic. “For several years,” says he, “I was moderator in the disputations which were held six times a week at Lincoln College, in Oxford. I could not avoid acquiring hereby some degree of expertness in arguing; and especially in discerning and pointing out well covered and plausible fallacies. I have since found abundant reason to praise God for giving me this honest art. By this, when men have hedged me in by what they called demonstrations, I have been many times able to dash them in pieces; in spite of all its covers, to touch the very point where the fallacy lay; and it flew open in a moment.”[106]

All the works, already mentioned, were chiefly designed for the use of Kingswood school. Those that follow were of a different kind.

4. “Letter to the Rev. Mr. Bailey, of Cork, in answer to a letter to the Rev. John Wesley.” 12mo, 36 pages. Wesley handles Bailey with deserved severity, telling him, that many of his accusations are no more likely to be credited than that of a wise friend of his, who said “the Methodists were a people who placed all their religion in wearing long whiskers.” Bailey’s slanderous charges were of the coarsest kind. The Methodist preachers were “a parcel of vagabond, illiterate babblers, who amused the populace with nonsense, ribaldry, and blasphemy, and were not capable of writing orthography or good sense.” Wesley is called a “hairbrained enthusiast,” and is accused “of frontless assurance, and a well dissembled hypocrisy”; of “promoting the cause of arbitrary popish power”; of “robbing and plundering the poor, so as to leave them neither bread to eat, nor raiment to put on”; and of “being the cause of all that Butler had done.” Such a slanderer had no claim to mercy. “Never,” says Wesley, “was anything so ill judged as for you to ask, ‘Does Christianity encourage its professors to make use of lies, invectives, or low, mean abuse, and scurrility, to carry on its interests?’ No, sir, it does not. I disclaim and abhor every weapon of this kind. But with these have the Methodist preachers been opposed in Cork above any other place. In England, in all Ireland, have I neither heard nor read any like those gross, palpable lies, those low Billingsgate invectives, and that inexpressibly mean abuse, and base scurrility, which the opposers of Methodism have continually made use of, and which has been the strength of their cause from the beginning.”

5. “A Short Address to the Inhabitants of Ireland. Occasioned by some late occurrences. Dublin: 1750.” 12mo, eight pages. Wesley, in this small tract, answers three questions concerning the Methodists, or, as the Irish called them, Swaddlers—1. What are the Methodists? 2. What do they teach? 3. What are the effects of their teaching?

6. “A Letter to the Author of the ‘Enthusiasm of the Methodists and Papists compared.’” 12mo, 44 pages.

Lavington, bishop of Exeter, was the author here addressed. Early in 1749 he published the first part of his work, and it is this only which Wesley answers. In his preface, the bishop tells his readers, that the Methodists are “a set of pretended reformers,—a dangerous and presumptuous sect, animated with an enthusiastical and fanatical spirit;” and that his object is “to draw a comparison between the wild and pernicious enthusiasms of some of the most eminent saints of the popish communion, and those of the Methodists in our own country.” He further alleges, that the Methodists are a people of “sanctified singularities, low fooleries, and high pretensions; they are doing the papists’ work for them, and agree with them in some of their principles; their heads are filled with much the same grand projects, and they are driven on in the same wild manner,—not perhaps from compact and design, but from a similar configuration and texture of the brain, or the fumes of imagination producing similar effects.” The preachers were “strolling predicants, of affected phrases, fantastical and unintelligible notions, whimsical strictnesses, and loud exclamations. The windmill indeed was in all their heads. Every flash of zeal and devotion,—every wild pretension, scheme, tenet, and overbearing dictate,—impulses, impressions, feelings, impetuous transports and raptures,—intoxicating vapours and fumes of imagination,—phantoms of a crazy brain, and uncouth effects of a distempered mind or body,—their sleeping or waking dreams,—their actions and passions,—all were ascribed, with an amazing presumption, to the extraordinary interposition of heaven, setting its seal to their mission.”

In illustration of all this, Whitefield and Wesley are treated with the grossest ridicule.

Whitefield replied to Lavington at once, and published his pamphlet in the month of May, with the title: “Some Remarks on a Pamphlet, entitled, The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared; wherein several mistakes in some parts of his past writings and conduct are acknowledged, and his present sentiments concerning the Methodists explained.” 8vo, 48 pages.

In September following, another reply was published, namely, “Some Remarks on the Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared. By Vincent Perronet, A.M.” Price threepence.[107]

Limited space prevents any further notice of these productions; except to say, that both are ably written, and evince a Christian spirit.

Wesley’s reply was finished at Canterbury on the 1st of February, 1750, and was published soon afterwards. Like most of his other writings, it is as brief as he could make it. Wesley was too busy to compose elaborate answers to the attacks of his opponents. Besides, had it been otherwise, his passion for saying all he wished to say in as few words as possible, would, under any circumstances, have prevented him from using the verbosity of others. Lavington’s pamphlet was anonymous; but there was little doubt respecting its author. Though a bishop, his composition is loose and faulty, and is characterized by the most glaring grammatical mistakes. He might be a punster and buffoon; but his performance does him no honour as a scholar. If the blunders in his pamphlet had been found in his youthful essays, they would have been more likely to have secured him a flagellation in the Winchester school, where it was his privilege to be, than to obtain the applause of his tutors and friends. His gift was not genius, nor yet grace; but a sort of merry-andrewism, more laughable than learned, and more suited for a stage than for a bishop’s throne.

Wesley tells him, that it is well he hides his name; otherwise he would be obliged to hide his face; for some of his sentences are neither sense nor grammar. He writes: “I must beg you, sir, in your third part, to inform your reader, that whenever any solecism or mangled sentences appear in the quotations from my writings, they are not chargeable upon me; that if the sense be mine (which is not always), yet I lay no claim to the manner of expression; the English is all your own.”

Wesley’s letter was addressed to an anonymous author; but that author was a bishop, and for a bishop to be lectured about his bad English was a pill which Lavington must have found difficult to swallow. The next quotation, however, must have been bitterer still.

“You proceed to prove my enthusiasm from my notions of conversion. And here great allowances are to be made, because you are talking of things quite out of your sphere; you are got into an unknown world! Do you know what conversion is? ‘Yes; it is to start up perfect men at once’ (page 41). Indeed, sir, it is not. A man is usually converted long before he is a perfect man. It is probable most of the Ephesians to whom St. Paul directed his epistle were converted. Yet they were not ‘come’ (few if any), ‘to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.’ I do not, sir, indeed I do not, undertake to make you understand these things. I am not so vain as to think it is in my power. It is the utmost of my hope to convince you, that you understand just nothing about them.”

The following is Wesley’s concluding paragraph.

“Any scribbler, with a middling share of low wit, not encumbered with good nature or modesty, may raise a laugh on those whom he cannot confute, and run them down whom he dares not look in the face. By this means, even a comparer of Methodists and papists may blaspheme the great work of God, not only without blame, but with applause; at least, from readers of his own stamp. But it is high time, sir, you should leave your skulking place. Come out, and let us look each other in the face. I have little leisure, and less inclination, for controversy. Yet I promise, if you will set your name to your third part, I will answer all that shall concern me, in that, as well as the preceding. Till then,

“I remain, sir,

“Your friend and well wisher,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

This was galling; the bishop felt it so; and, as we shall see hereafter, allowed his indignation to boil over. Southey says, that Wesley did not treat Bishop Lavington with the urbanity which he usually displayed towards his opponents. This is scarcely true; but if it were, his grace of Exeter deserved all he got. We regret, that we shall be obliged to renew acquaintance with him. Meanwhile, let us briefly say, that this buffooning bishop was born at Mildenhall in 1683. On leaving the school at Winchester, he was removed to New College, Oxford, where he graduated for the civil law, and obtained a fellowship. At the age of thirty-four, he was made rector of Hayford Warren; then prebendary of Worcester; then canon of St. Paul’s; and then bishop of Exeter. He died on the 13th of September, 1762; exactly fifteen days after the following entry in Wesley’s journal:—

“Sunday, August 29, 1762.—I preached, at eight, on Southernhay Green” [Exeter] “to an extremely quiet congregation. At the cathedral, we had an useful sermon, and the whole service was performed with great seriousness and decency. Such an organ I never saw or heard before, so large, beautiful, and so finely toned; and the music of ‘Glory be to God in the highest,’ I think, exceeded the ‘Messiah’ itself. I was well pleased to partake of the Lord’s supper with my old opponent, Bishop Lavington. O may we sit down together in the kingdom of our Father!”

1751.

[Sidenote: 1751 Age 48]

The year upon which we are now entering was one of vast anxiety and trouble, and, of course, like previous years, was characterized by unceasing activity on the part of the great chiefs of the Methodist movement. Charles Wesley was from four to five months in London, about the same in Bristol, and spent the rest in an important visit to the numerous societies in the midland counties and the north of England. Whitefield gave the first two months of the year to the metropolis, the next three to the west of England and to Wales, more than two to Ireland and Scotland, and then, in August, set sail for America. Wesley himself spent eight months in itinerancy, and the rest in London.

Moravianism was more than ever a vexata quæstio. Whitefield, in a letter dated March 30, 1751, remarks:—“I doubt not but there are many holy souls among the Moravians; but their not preaching the law, either as a schoolmaster to show us our need of Christ, or as a rule of life, after we have closed with Him, is what I can in nowise concur with. These their two grand mistakes, together with their unscriptural expressions in their hymns, and several superstitious fopperies lately intruded among them, make me think they are sadly departed from the simplicity of the gospel.”[108]

A friend, writing to Wesley, at the commencement of the year, observes:—

“No doubt God had wise ends in permitting the Unitas Fratrum to appear, just as the people of God began to unite together; but we cannot fathom His designs. Very probably we should have been now a very different people from what we are, had we had only our own countrymen to cope with. We should then have set the plain gospel of Christ against what is palpably another gospel. But this subtle poison has more or less infected almost all among us. We would put gospel heads on bodies ready to indulge unholy tempers. Although as a society we stand as clear of joining with the Beast as any other, yet we have not purged out all his leaven; the antinomian leaven is not yet cast out. All our preaching at first was pointed at the heart; and in almost all our private conversation, ‘Do you feel the love of God in your heart? Does His Spirit reign there? Do you walk in the Spirit? Is that mind in you which was in Christ?’ were frequent questions among us. But while these preachers to the heart were going on gloriously in the work of Christ, the false apostles stepped in, laughed at all heart work, and laughed many of us out of our spiritual senses; for, according to them, we were neither to see, hear, feel, nor taste the powers of the world to come, but to rest contented with what was done for us seventeen hundred years ago. ‘The dear Lamb,’ said they, ‘has done all for us; we have nothing to do, but to believe.’ Here was a stroke at the whole work of God in the heart! And ever since, this German spirit has wrought among us, and caused many to rest in a barren, notional faith, void of that inward power of God unto salvation.”

One of the Moravians themselves, who had been the physician in one of their religious houses, and had also been a preacher among them both at home and abroad, and who, with his wife, still attended their services, informed Wesley of his own knowledge of sensual abominations practised by the brethren and sisters at Leeds and Bedford, which, though referred to in Wesley’s Journal, we shall not pollute our pages by printing. No wonder, after Wesley had committed the man’s statement to writing, and had submitted it to him for his own correction, he should exclaim in a burst of sorrowful indignation, “Was there ever so melancholy an account? and what is human nature! How low are they fallen, who were once burning and shining lights, spreading blessings wherever they came!”

Wesley has oft been blamed for speaking far too harshly of his old Moravian friends; but those who blame him are either ignorant of facts like those alluded to above, or they wickedly wink at their existence. Moravianism in England, in 1751, had become, to a great extent, a luscious morsel of antinomian poison; and it was a painful knowledge of this distressing fact, which led Wesley to adopt the course he did.

One pamphlet, published at the close of 1750, has not been mentioned, though there is little doubt that Wesley was its author. His name does not appear; but that was not unusual, for many of his tracts and pamphlets were printed without his name, or with his initials only. The preface is dated “London, October 2, 1750,” though Wesley then had retired for a month to Kingswood, for the purpose of writing books. The style is his to a nicety, and the most incredulous will find it difficult to doubt that Wesley was the writer. The pamphlet was not published in his own edition of his collected works in 1771; but that is not conclusive evidence against its authenticity, for other pamphlets were similarly omitted, as, for instance, his “Extract of Zinzendorf’s Discourses,” seventy-eight pages, and his Zinzendorf’s Hymns, twelve pages. Its title is as follows: “The Contents of a Folio History of the Moravians, or United Brethren, printed in 1749, and privately printed and sold under the title of ‘Acta Fratrum Unitatis in Anglia,’ with suitable remarks. Humbly addressed to the Pious of every Protestant Denomination in Europe and America. By a Lover of the Light. London: 1750.” 12mo, 60 pages. On the title page there is the following text:— “While they promise them liberty, they themselves are the servants of corruption.”

Rightly to understand the merits of this peculiar and now extremely scarce publication, it is necessary to look back upon the Moravian history of the previous five years.

As early as 1746, Zinzendorf was anxious to have the Moravians legally acknowledged by the British parliament, and to secure for them a legal standing. To accomplish this, he, with effrontery worthy of a better cause, made friends with Potter, the archbishop of Canterbury; with Sherlock, bishop of London; with Thomas Penn, the proprietor of Pennsylvania; and with General Oglethorpe, governor of Georgia. He succeeded in bringing the cause of the Brethren before the king’s privy council, and, in 1747, contrived to get an act through parliament, exempting the Moravians, in British North America, from taking oaths. But even this was not enough to satisfy Zinzendorf’s ambition. In this act there was only a tacit and indefinite acknowledgment of his church. He wished for more, and, in order to get it, agreed with his friends to petition that the Moravians in England might have the same exemption, as those in the American colonies; and that they should have the further privilege of not bearing arms. The petition stated, that the Brethren were descended from the ancient Bohemian and Moravian church; that, in their doctrinal views, they followed the Augsburg Confession of 1530, and the synod of Berne in 1532; that they consisted of the threefold union of Moravians, Lutherans, and Reformed, or, in other words, the three principal sections of the protestant church; that their proper ecclesiastical title was “Unitas Fratrum”; and that, in support of these pretensions, they could adduce, before a parliamentary committee, not fewer than one hundred and thirty-five different documents.

Strangely enough, a committee of the House of Commons was appointed, with Oglethorpe for its chairman. The report of the committee was read and ordered to be printed; and Oglethorpe was commissioned to draw up a bill, founded upon the report presented, and to bring it before the house. The bill passed the House of Commons on the 18th of April, 1749. On being introduced into the House of Lords, the lord chancellor objected to almost every line of it; and especially against the power vested in Zinzendorf, as the Advocatus Fratrum, in ecclesiastical matters,—a power authorising him, though a foreigner, to enjoin upon the bishops and ministers of the Church of England to give certificates, that the parties holding them were members of the Unitas Fratrum, which certificates the British authorities were to accept as legal. Zinzendorf, in a conversation with Lord Halifax, had said: “Against the will of the king, I would not like to press the matter; but a limitation of the act I will not accept. Everything or nothing! No modifications!” This was German swagger. Finding the lord chancellor earnest in his objection, he was fain, rather than lose his bill, to leave out the words which put the bishops and clergy of the Church of England beneath his power, and proposed the following as a substitute: “that the verbal declaration of the individual, together with the certificate of a bishop or minister of the Brethren, shall be sufficient proof of membership.” With this alteration, the bill became law, on the 12th of May, 1749. By this act of parliament, Zinzendorf gained the following points:—

1. The Unitas Fratrum were acknowledged as an ancient protestant episcopal church.

2. Those of its members, who scrupled to take an oath, were exempted from doing so on making a declaration in the presence of Almighty God, as witness of the truth.

3. They were exempted from acting as jurymen.

4. They were exempted from military service, in the American colonies, under reasonable conditions.[109]

This was a singular episode in Moravian history. Zinzendorf was proud of it; and well he might. It was scarcely fifteen years since the Moravians first set foot in England. They had been torn by faction, and persecuted by furious mobs. Their tenets, in many instances, were far from orthodox. Many of their practices were silly and objectionable. Their hymns and literature were loathsomely luscious, and familiarly irreverent. Their leader, though a German noble, and, upon the whole, benevolent and devout, was ambitious and overbearing, if not insane; and yet, the British parliament had already given them not only a legal standing, but an ecclesiastical cognomen of their own selecting, and had granted them exemptions, which they had no right to claim. How was this? We can hardly tell; but a German sat on the British throne, and his court, to a great extent, was a German court.

A few months after the Moravian bill was passed by parliament, Zinzendorf had put to the press, in his own private printing office, a folio volume, entitled “Acta Fratrum in Anglia,” containing (1) all the past public negotiations in England; (2) an exposition of the doctrine, liturgy, and constitutions of the Brethren’s congregations. This was the “folio history,” of which the pamphlet, that we have attributed to Wesley, professes to give the “contents.” The following are a few of the writer’s running observations.

“The absurdities of this history are fairly confuted by only repeating them.” Referring to the expression, “blood and wounds theology,” he asks,—“Is this honouring the name and sacrifice of the glorious Son of God? O count! art thou wiser, or more inspired, than Paul or Peter? If thou art not, surely thou art lost in thine own greatness, and swallowed up in the delusions of the devil.” (Page 38.)

“Here follows a dark apology for their enigmatical jargon, in which they say, ‘The people who pick up and pervert our practical phrases incur a terrible guilt thereby.’ 1. The much greater part of their phrases are altogether unintelligible to any but themselves, and therefore none but some of themselves can pervert them. 2. Those phrases that have a little common sense in them are so encumbered with nonsense and error, that it is hardly possible not to reprove them, which I suppose is called perverting them.” (Page 43.)

“As to ordinances, the Unitas Fratrum have ‘baptism, with a covenant water certainly impregnated with the blood of Christ’; and the Lord’s supper, which they call ‘a partaking of the corpse of our Saviour, at receiving which, they prostrate themselves in awe of His tremendous majesty.’ I cannot once imagine, they have any design to promote popery; but, O count! don’t you see, that these expressions might have been used by Ignatius Loyola, in honour of holy water and his wafer god?” (Page 44.)

“Their thoughts on marriage are dark and mysterious. They call it, ‘an holy mystery, a sacramentum magnum.’ And by their own account, their hymns on this subject are not fit to be read by any that attach bad ideas to bad expressions; but say they, ‘We hold forth chaste matter under usual and express words.’ O ye dreamers! When will ye hold forth nothing but what is taught by God and the holy Scriptures? Why do you choose to express yourselves as if taught in the school of Ignatius Loyola?” (Page 45.)

“Will you receive advice, ye Unitas Fratrum? Then, for the glory of the gospel of Jesus Christ, appear to the world clothed in the robes of innocency and truth. Lay aside your darkness, and bring all your words to light. If you have any meaning, reveal it for the good of souls; if you have no meaning, call yourselves anything but Christians.” (Page 50.)

Attached to the pamphlet is a postscript addressed to those of the Unitas Fratrum, who once were Methodists. The following is an extract:—

“Is not your doctrine dull, flat, and insipid? Does it not come from a floating imagination? Is not its chief aim to fill the mind with ideas of the Lamb’s heart? of soaking and melting in blood? of playing near, and creeping into the side-hole? of pretty, happy sinnership? of beating the little sinner on the bill when he has been naughty? and of a thousand such strange, unheard of absurdities? Your doctors, by playing with words, and jingling soft sounds, may delight the fancy; but whoever they are that look for sense, must miss of edification.” (Page 57.)

Such are fair specimens of the short critiques of the curious “contents” of Zinzendorf’s folio history of the “Acta Fratrum in Anglia.” It is painful to have to record quarrels among old friends and brethren; but facts are too serious to be blinked for an author’s private pleasure. As a sort of counterpoise to this unpleasantness, we subjoin an extract from a letter, addressed to Wesley, by Cennick, at this time the most laborious and successful Moravian preacher in the sister island.

“DUBLIN, June 25, 1751.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Yesterday I received yours, and assure you, I am sincere in my desires and proposals of speaking and writing freely to each other; and wish heartily, that Christians conferring together had hindered the making that wide space between us and you. Perhaps He that maketh men to be of one mind in a house, may nevertheless, in our days, begin the gathering together in one the people of God that are scattered abroad. I think, if I could see the dawn of that gracious day, I would wish no more, but be content to labour myself to death, and finish my pilgrimage with a cheerfulness inexpressible. Till then, as long as people in many things think differently, all must be allowed their Christian liberty; and though some may remove from you to us, or from us to you, without becoming bitter, and with upright views to please our Saviour, I can see no harm in it. I really love the servants and witnesses of Jesus in all the world. I wish all to prosper. I salute Mrs. Wesley; and assure you, I am your affectionate loving brother,

“JOHN CENNICK.”[110]

This is very beautiful, especially remembering the past and present days. Wesley entitles the letter, “Sincere professions of Christian love.” They do Cennick credit, and were grateful to the heart and mind of Wesley.

Cennick’s letter concludes with a salutation to Mrs. Wesley; and we must now refer to another painful subject—Wesley’s marriage.[111] This took place in the month of February. The exact day is doubtful. Wesley says it was a few days after February 2. The Gentleman’s Magazine has the following in its list of marriages: “February 18.—Rev. Mr. John Wesley, Methodist preacher, to a merchant’s widow in Threadneedle Street, with a jointure of £300 per annum”; and the London Magazine: “February 19.—Rev. Mr. John Wesley, to Mrs. Vazel, of Threadneedle Street, a widow lady of large fortune.” The large fortune consisted of £10,000, invested in three per cent. consols, and was wholly secured to herself and her four children.[112]

Charles Wesley seems to have been introduced to her in July, 1749, at Edward Perronet’s, and describes her then as “a woman of sorrowful spirit.” Mr. Moore remarks, that Mrs. Vazeille (her proper name), from all that he had heard of her from Wesley, and from others, seemed at the time to be well qualified for her new position. “She appeared to be truly pious, and was very agreeable in her person and manners. She conformed to every company, whether of the rich or of the poor; and had a remarkable facility and propriety in addressing them concerning their true interests.”[113] Mr. Watson observes, that “she was a woman of cultivated understanding, as her remaining letters testify; and that she appeared to Mr. Wesley to possess every other qualification, which promised to increase both his usefulness and happiness, we may conclude from his having made choice of her as his companion.” Mr. Jackson says: “Neither in understanding nor in education was she worthy of the eminent man to whom she was united; and her temper was intolerably bad. During the lifetime of her first husband, she appears to have enjoyed every indulgence; and, judging from some of his letters to her, which have been preserved, he paid an entire deference to her will. Her habits and spirit were ill adapted to the privations and inconveniences which were incident to her new mode of life, as the travelling companion of Mr. John Wesley.”[114] Hampson remarks: “The connection was unfortunate. There never was a more preposterous union. It is pretty certain that no loves lighted their torches on this occasion; and it is as much to be presumed, that neither did Plutus preside at the solemnity. Mrs. Wesley’s property was too inconsiderable, to warrant the supposition that it was a match of interest. Besides, had she been ever so rich, it was nothing to him; for every shilling of her fortune remained at her own disposal; and neither the years, nor the temper of the parties, could give any reason to suppose them violently enamoured. That this lady accepted his proposals, seems much less surprising than that he should have made them. It is probable, his situation at the head of a sect, and the authority it conferred, was not without its charms in the eyes of an ambitious female. But we much wonder, that Mr. Wesley should have appeared so little acquainted with himself and with human nature. He certainly did not possess the conjugal virtues. He had no taste for the tranquillity of domestic retirement: while his situation, as an itinerant, left him little leisure for those attentions which are absolutely necessary, to the comfort of married life.”[115] Dr. Whitehead writes: “Mr. Wesley’s constant habit of travelling, the number of persons who came to visit him wherever he was, and his extensive correspondence, were circumstances unfavourable to that social intercourse, mutual openness and confidence, which form the basis of happiness in the married state. These circumstances, indeed, would not have been so very unfavourable, had he married a woman who could have entered into his views, and have accommodated herself to his situation. But this was not the case. Had he searched the whole kingdom, he would hardly have found a woman more unsuitable in these respects, than she whom he married.”[116]

From the first, Charles Wesley felt the strongest aversion to his brother’s marriage. Why? Mr. Jackson suggests, that this could not proceed from any feeling of personal or family dislike to Mrs. Vazeille (which we somewhat doubt); nor from any repugnance to the marriage state, for he himself was eminently happy in that relation; but because he believed that, by this means, Wesley’s labours would be confined within the same comparatively narrow circle, as his own, and, as a consequence, many of the Methodist societies, for want of oversight, would become Independent churches; a wide separation from the national establishment would ensue, and the kingdom be deprived of that extensive reformation which the brothers had hoped by God’s blessing to effect.

Probably there is some truth in this; but we still incline to the opinion, that Charles Wesley’s dislike to the marriage was, at least, partly owing to a disapprobation of his brother’s choice. In 1750, Charles took her on a fortnight’s visit to his wife’s relations at Ludlow; and, on her return to London, he and his Sally, for eight or nine days, were guests of Mrs. Vazeille herself. Charles was a keen discerner of personal character,—perhaps much more than his brother was,—and must have seen some of the faults which afterwards became more apparent, and to which, at subsequent periods, he so frequently refers.

At all events, on February 2, a fortnight before the marriage, he writes as follows: “My brother told me he was resolved to marry. I was thunderstruck, and could only answer, he had given me the first blow, and his marriage would come like the coup de grace. Trusty Ned Perronet followed, and told me, the person was Mrs. Vazeille! one of whom I had never had the least suspicion. I refused his company to the chapel, and retired to mourn with my faithful Sally. I groaned all the day, and several following ones, under my own and the people’s burdens. I could eat no pleasant food, nor preach, nor rest, either by night or by day.”

On the same day, Wesley himself wrote: “Having received a full answer from Mr. Perronet, I was clearly convinced, that I ought to marry. For many years, I remained single, because I believed I could be more useful in a single than in a married state. And I praise God, who enabled me so to do. I now as fully believed that, in my present circumstances, I might be more useful in a married state.”

This is a curious entry. Can it be true that, up to this day, Wesley had not proposed marriage to Mrs. Vazeille? that Vincent Perronet’s letter brought him to a decision? that he acquainted his brother as soon as he had made up his mind? and that all the courtship preceding his marriage was really of not more than fifteen or sixteen days’ continuance? If so, no wonder that this, like most hasty marriages, was so unfortunate.

This brief period was a curious episode in Wesley’s history. Four days after he told his brother that he “was resolved to marry” he strangely enough “met the single men” of the London society, “and showed them on how many accounts it was good for those who had received that gift from God, to remain ‘single for the kingdom of heaven’s sake;’ unless where a particular case might be an exception to the general rule.” His intention was to set out five days after this, on his journey to the north; but, on the day before he purposed starting, his feet slipped on the ice, in crossing London Bridge, and he fell with great force, the bone of his ankle lighting on a stone, and one of his legs being severely sprained. A surgeon bound up the leg; and, with great difficulty, he proceeded to Seven Dials, where he preached. He attempted to preach again, at the Foundery, at night; but his sprain became so painful, that he was obliged to relinquish his intention; and, at once, removed to Threadneedle Street, where Mrs. Vazeille resided; and here he spent the seven days next ensuing, “partly,” he says, “in prayer, reading, and conversation, and partly in writing a Hebrew grammar, and Lessons for Children.” During this brief period of enforced retirement, when he had purposed to be far on his way to the north of England, the tete-a-tete unexpectedly issued in a marriage. The accident occurred on Sunday, February 10; on the Sunday following, he was “carried to the Foundery, and preached kneeling,” not being yet able to stand; and, on the next day, or, at most, the day after that, cripple though he was, he succeeded in leading Mrs. Vazeille, a widow, seven years younger than himself, to the hymeneal altar, and was married. On the Monday (February 18) he was still unable to set his foot to the ground. On the Tuesday evening, and on the Wednesday morning, he preached kneeling. This was an odd beginning,—the bridegroom crippled, and, instead of making a wedding tour, preaching on his knees in London chapels. A fortnight after his marriage, being, as he says, “tolerably able to ride, though not to walk,” he set out for Bristol, leaving his newly married wife behind him. Here he held a five days’ conference with his preachers, who had assembled from various parts, and says: “My spirit was much bowed down among them, fearing some of them were perverted from the simplicity of the gospel; but the more we conversed, the more brotherly love increased. I expected to have heard many objections to our first doctrines; but none appeared to have any: we seemed to be all of one mind, as well as one heart. I mentioned whatever I thought was amiss, or wanting, in any of our brethren. It was received in a right spirit, with much love, and serious earnest attention; and, I trust, not one went from the conference discontented, but rather, blessing God for the consolation.”

The conference being ended, he returned to London on March the 21st, and, six days afterwards, set out for Scotland, and inserted in his journal what, perhaps, was a sly hit at his brother Charles: “I cannot understand how a Methodist preacher can answer it to God, to preach one sermon, or travel one day less, in a married than in a single state. In this respect surely, ‘it remaineth, that they who have wives be as though they had none.’”

Was there ever a marriage like John Wesley’s? It was one of the greatest blunders he ever made. A man who attains to the age of forty-eight, without marrying, ought to remain a bachelor for life, inasmuch as he has, almost of necessity, formed habits, and has acquired angularities and excrescences, which will never harmonize with the relationships and duties of the married state. Besides, if there ever was a man whose mission was so great and so peculiar as to render it inexpedient for him to become a benedict, Wesley was such a man. His marriage was ill advised as well as ill assorted. On both sides, it was, to a culpable extent, hasty, and was contracted without proper and sufficient thought. Young people entering into hurried marriages deserve and incur censure; and if so, what shall be said of Wesley and his wife? They married in haste, and had leisure to repent. Their act was, in a high degree, an act of folly; and, properly enough, to the end of life, both of them were made to suffer a serious penalty. It is far from pleasant to pursue the subject; but perhaps it is needful. In a world of danger like this, we must look at beacons as well as beauties. Let us then, as far as is possible, see the results of this hasty and ill judged marriage, and then have done with it.

One necessary consequence was the resignation of Wesley’s fellowship, which he sent, on the 1st of June, to the following effect;—“I, John Wesley, fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, do hereby spontaneously and freely resign whatever rights I possess in the aforesaid society, to the rector and fellows of the same: wishing to all and each of them perpetual peace and every species of felicity in Christ.”

Another result was a painful quarrel with his brother. It is true, this was not of long continuance; for, on March 22, they met together, and had free and full explanations, and were reconciled to each other.[117] So they said, and yet it is a fact, that, for years afterwards, there seemed to be a shyness and a want of perfect confidence between them. Charles pitied the misfortune of his brother; but never attempted to excuse his folly. Towards his brother’s wife, he found it difficult to maintain, at all times, the semblance of courteous conduct. Nine days after the marriage, he kissed her, and assured her he was reconciled to her and his brother. In the month of May following he says: “I met my sister in Bristol, and behaved to her as such. I showed her, both at my own house, and the houses of my friends, all the civility in my power.” A month later, he found her in tears, heard her complaints against her husband, and professed love, pity, and a desire to help her. Serious quarrels, however, ensued after this, between her and Charles, and when Wesley thought himself dying, in December 1753, he made it his request to his wife and to his brother, to forget the past; which, says the latter, “I readily agreed to, and once more offered her my service in great sincerity.” A year or two later, the following significant sentences occur in Charles’s letters to his wife: “I called, two minutes before preaching, on Mrs. Wesley, at the Foundery; and, in all that time, had not one quarrel.”[118] Again: “I hope Mrs. Wesley keeps her distance. If malice is stronger in her than pride, she will pay you a mischievous visit. Poor Mr. Lefevre laments that he cannot love her. Blessed be God, I can, and desire to love her more.”[119] In 1766, he describes her as “quite placid and tame,” and desires his Sally to be courteous to her without trusting her.[120] Charles’s friendship for his sister-in-law was down to freezing point, and his wife’s seems to have been lower still.

What concerning Wesley himself? His wife’s money soon became a trouble; and at no time was a benefit. Within two months after his unhappy marriage, we find him writing to his friend Blackwell, asking him to render his assistance in settling her affairs; and adding: “She has many trials, but not one more than God knows to be profitable to her. I believe you have been, and will be, a means of removing some. If these outward incumbrances were removed, it might be a means of her spending more time with me; which would probably be useful as well as agreeable to her.”[121]

Mrs. Wesley seems to have accompanied her husband in his long northern journey, undertaken a few weeks after they were married. She, also, went with him into Cornwall, in the month of August following. Again, in March 1752, she, and one of her daughters, shared all the adventures, privations, and roughnesses of another three months’ journey to the north of England.[122] On the way, while at Epworth, Wesley wrote as follows to Mr. Blackwell: “April 16, 1752.—My wife is, at least, as well as when we left London: the more she travels, the better she bears it. It gives us yet another proof, that, whatever God calls us to, He will fit us for. I was, at first, a little afraid, she would not so well understand the behaviour of a Yorkshire mob; but there has been no trial; even the Methodists are now at peace throughout the kingdom.”[123] Before the month was ended, Wesley and his wife had mobbing to their hearts’ content.

Hitherto, their married life, if not ecstatic, had not been absolutely miserable. Things, however, were soon altered. On November 3, 1752, Vincent Perronet wrote as follows to Charles Wesley: “I am truly concerned that matters are in so melancholy a situation. I think the unhappy lady is most to be pitied, though the gentleman’s case is mournful enough. Their sufferings proceed from widely different causes. His are the visible chastisements of a loving Father; hers, the immediate effects of an angry, bitter spirit; and, indeed, it is a sad consideration, that, after so many months have elapsed, the same warmth and bitterness should remain.”[124]

This was within a year and three quarters of the time when the marriage ceremony was performed. Four months later, she again went with Wesley to the north and to Scotland. Indeed, up to the year 1755, she seems, generally speaking, to have been his travelling companion; but, in the autumn of that year, there was a change. Wesley then went to Cornwall without her, and, while there, sent a packet of letters to Charles Perronet. The packet came into the hands of his jealous wife; most unwarrantably she opened it, and, finding a few lines addressed to Mrs. Lefevre, fell into a furious passion.[125] Ever after, there was little else than a succession of connubial storms. In February, 1756, Wesley wrote to Sarah Ryan: “Your last letter was seasonable indeed. I was growing faint in my mind. The being continually watched over for evil; the having every word I spoke, every action I did, small and great, watched with no friendly eye; the hearing a thousand little, tart, unkind reflections, in return for the kindest words I could devise—

‘Like drops of eating water on the marble, At length have worn my sinking spirits down.’

Yet I could not say, ‘Take Thy plague away from me;’ but only, ‘Let me be purified, not consumed.’[126]

We have here a painful discovery of the consuming sorrows of Wesley’s domestic life. No doubt, there were faults on his side as well as on the side of his twitting wife. No one, for instance, will for a moment attempt to justify his writing, in the terms just quoted, to Sarah Ryan, his Bristol housekeeper, who, however pious after her conversion, lived a most disreputable life before it. This was, to say the least, supremely foolish; but still it was not sufficient to justify his wife’s subsequent cruel and almost insane behaviour. In another letter to Sarah Ryan he writes as follows:—

“January 27, 1758.

“MY DEAR SISTER,—Last Friday, after many severe words, my wife left me, vowing she would see me no more. As I had wrote to you the same morning, I began to reason with myself, till I almost doubted whether I had done well in writing, or whether I ought to write to you at all. After prayer, that doubt was taken away. Yet I was almost sorry I had written that morning. In the evening, while I was preaching at the chapel, she came into the chamber where I had left my clothes, searched my pockets, and found the letter there, which I had finished, but had not sealed. While she read it, God broke her heart; and I afterwards found her in such a temper as I have not seen her in for several years. She has continued in the same ever since. So I think God has given a sufficient answer, with regard to our writing to each other.”[127]

We think nothing of the kind; and again regret his writing such a letter, on such a subject, to such a woman. His motives and his end were unquestionably pure; but the act itself cannot be defended. His wife was jealous, cruelly jealous, and he ought to have avoided what was likely to feed and increase her passion.

Wesley and his wife, however, were again united, but were far from being happy. So things proceeded till 1771. “On one occasion, she seized his letters and other papers, and put them into the hands of such as she knew to be his enemies, that they might be printed, as presumptive proofs of illicit connections.” She even interpolated letters which she had intercepted, so as to make them bear a bad construction, and then read them to different persons in private, for the purpose of defaming him. In one or two instances, she published interpolated or forged letters in the public prints.[128] She accused Charles Wesley of idleness, and declared that, for years, his dearest Sally had been John Wesley’s mistress. Charles danced with rage at this imputation cast upon his wife; but his Sally calmly smiled, and said, “Who will believe my sister now?”[129] Frequently she would drive a hundred miles to observe who was in the carriage with her husband on his entering a town. Sometimes her passions hurried her into outrage and indecency. More than once, she laid violent hands upon his person, and tore his hair.[130] “Jack,” said John Hampson, senior, to his son, “I was once on the point of committing murder. Once, when I was in the north of Ireland, I went into a room, and found Mrs. Wesley foaming with fury. Her husband was on the floor, where she had been trailing him by the hair of his head; and she herself was still holding in her hand venerable locks which she had plucked up by the roots. I felt,” continued the gigantic Hampson, who was not one of Wesley’s warmest friends, “I felt as though I could have knocked the soul out of her.”[131]

Other statements of the same character might be multiplied; but we are aweary of this painful subject. “Fain,” writes Southey, “would she have made him, like Marc Antony, give up all for love; and, being disappointed in that hope, she tormented him in such a manner, by her outrageous jealousy and abominable temper, that she deserves to be classed in a triad with Xantippe and the wife of Job, as one of the three bad wives.”

In the midst of all this, Wesley, on one occasion, wrote her as follows:—

“I cannot but add a few words: not by way of reproach, but of advice. God has used many means to curb your stubborn will, and break the impetuosity of your temper. He has given you a dutiful but sickly daughter; He has taken away one of your sons; another has been a grievous cross, as the third probably will be. He has suffered you to be defrauded of much money; He has chastened you with strong pain. And still He may say, ‘How long liftest thou up thyself against Me?’ Are you more humble, more gentle, more patient, more placable than you were? I fear, quite the reverse; I fear, your natural tempers are rather increased than diminished. O beware, lest God give you up to your own heart’s lusts, and let you follow your own imaginations!

“Under all these conflicts, it might be an unspeakable blessing, that you have a husband who knows your temper and can bear with it; who, after you have tried him numberless ways, laid to his charge things that he knew not, robbed him, betrayed his confidence, revealed his secrets, given him a thousand treacherous wounds, purposely aspersed and murdered his character, and made it your business so to do, under the poor pretence of vindicating your own character—who, I say, after all these provocations, is still willing to forgive you all, to overlook what is past, as if it had not been, and to receive you with open arms; only not while you have a sword in your hand, with which you are continually striking at me, though you cannot hurt me. If, notwithstanding, you continue striking, what can I, what can all reasonable men think, but that either you are utterly out of your senses, or your eye is not single; that you married me only for my money; that, being disappointed, you were almost always out of humour; and that this laid you open to a thousand suspicions, which, once awakened, could sleep no more?

“My dear Molly, let the time past suffice. As yet, the breach may be repaired. You have wronged me much, but not beyond forgiveness. I love you still, and am as clear from all other women as the day I was born. At length, know me, and know yourself. Your enemy I cannot be; but let me be your friend. Suspect me no more, asperse me no more, provoke me no more. Do not any longer contend for mastery, for power, money, or praise. Be content to be a private insignificant person, known and loved by God and me. Attempt no more to abridge me of my liberty, which I claim by the laws of God and man. Leave me to be governed by God and my own conscience. Then shall I govern you with gentle sway, and show that I do indeed love you, even as Christ the church.”[132]

This is a manly, noble, loving letter, and ought to have produced a good effect; but on January 23, 1771, he wrote: “For what cause I know not, my wife set out for Newcastle, purposing ‘never to return.’ Non eam reliqui: non dimisi: non revocabo.”

Her reason for repairing to Newcastle may be found in the fact that, two years previously, her daughter, Miss Vazeille, had been united in marriage to Mr. William Smith, a distinguished and highly influential member of the Orphan House society.[133] Wesley’s next visit to the northern metropolis did not take place till the month of May, 1772, when differences were once again made up; and, on his return to Bristol, his wife came back with him.[134] This, however, was but a patched up peace. One of Wesley’s letters to his wife has just been given; and now is added one from his wife to him.

“LONDON, May 31, 1774.

“MY DEAR,—Your laconic letter from Edinburgh, May 18, would have seemed strange if I had not known you. Honest John Pawson makes it his business to slander me wherever he goes, saying: ‘Mrs. Wesley has several hundred pounds in her hands belonging to Mr. Wesley, but how he will ever get it from her, I know not, except he puts her to trouble for it, for I do not believe there is a more covetous minded woman in the world than she is.’ In this way, he, and J. Allen, and your old quondam friend, Mary Madan, did all they could to render my life bitter while at Bristol. Mary Madan, the very day you set off from Bristol, said, ‘I hope Mrs. Wesley is not to stay here till Mr. Wesley returns, for, if she does, this society will be quite ruined.’ There were many high words between her and some of the stewards, the night I and Mr. Lewis came from setting you out of town. It was true, I had a horse, but in this I soon was made to see and feel her power, for whenever I wanted to ride, she would contrive to send the man out on some trifling thing or other, so that I have been fourteen days together without riding at all; and when I did, I was sure to be lectured by your man telling me he had enough to do for Mr. Charles Wesley and Mrs. Madan. As I could not use my horse there, and Mr. Lewis telling me Mr. Charles Wesley wanted him to hire one for the man to ride by the side of their carriage, and that it would save the society a guinea if I would lend my horse instead of their hiring one, I said, ‘with all my heart.’ But I was soon informed by your brother, that the London stewards would not like my horse to go; that he must have three there himself; and that a subscription was proposed to buy the third. It was no hard matter to find how I was circumstanced. As I could get no one to ride with me, I did not care to put you to the expense of keeping my horse; so I sold it. So that evil is removed. The next must be myself. Then the Methodists must be a pure people, when the troubler of their happiness and peace is removed. My dear friend, let me beg of you for God’s sake, for your own sake, put a stop to this torrent of evil that is poured out against me. It is cruel to make me an offender for defending myself. If you or any others have anything to lay to my charge, let it be proved. I desire to be open to conviction; but, surely, I have a right to do justice to myself, when I have it in my power. The trials and persecutions I have met with lately, were they accompanied with any degree of guilt, would make me of all creatures most miserable; but, bless God, He has hitherto kept me from a prey to my enemies; though I am often tempted to fear I shall not hold out any longer, as I am a poor, weak woman, alone against a formidable body.

“I am your affectionate wife,

“M. WESLEY.”[135]

The letter, from which the above is copied, refutes Mr. Watson’s assertion, that “Mrs. Vazeille was a woman of cultivated understanding”; and confirms Mr. Jackson’s statement, that “neither in understanding nor education was she worthy of the eminent man to whom she was united.” Without altering the sense, we have been obliged to revise both the orthography and syntax of the letter, in order to make it at all fit to appear in print. Mrs. Wesley was evidently a woman of no education, beyond the ability to read and write. Perhaps no better description of her character, as a woman and a wife, can be furnished than what is patent in the peevish, petulant, murmuring, miserable letter just given. Here we leave her, simply adding that, after being Wesley’s wife for a little more than thirty years, she died at the age of seventy-one, on October 8, 1781.[136] Wesley, at the time, was in the west of England; but writes, on October 12, as follows: “I came to London, and was informed that my wife died on Monday. This evening she was buried, though I was not informed of it till a day or two after.” Her fortune, which, by losses and by fraud, had been reduced from ten to five thousand pounds, she bequeathed to her son; and left her husband nothing but a ring.[137] The epitaph on her tombstone describes her as “a woman of exemplary piety, a tender parent, and a sincere friend”; but is wisely silent concerning her conduct as a wife.

Perhaps more than enough has been already said. It must be remembered, however, that John Wesley’s marriage affected and tinged thirty years of his public life. It was one of the gravest events in his chequered history; and, on this ground, it deserves attention. Wesley was not faultless. He married too hurriedly to know the character of the woman whom he made his wife; and he would have acted more wisely if he had refrained from writing religious letters to female members of his society, of whom his wife was jealous. This is all that can be fairly alleged against him. No one will venture to affirm, that he was wanting in affection; and no one can successfully accuse him of treating his wife with coldness and reserve. Charles, a keen judge of character, declared that nothing could surpass his brother’s patience in bearing with his perverse and peevish spouse. Several of his letters to her, written after their marriage, have been preserved; and display the tenderest affection, and justify the opinion that, had it been his happiness to be married to a woman that was worthy of him, he would have been one of the most loving husbands that ever lived. The truth is, John Wesley’s wife was scarcely sane. Mr. Jackson writes: “Scores of documents in her handwriting attest the violence of her temper, and warrant the conclusion, that there was in her a certain degree of mental unsoundness.” This is the most merciful view that it is possible to take of her strange behaviour. In no respect was she a helpmeet for him. As a rule, she was a bitter, unmitigated curse. At home, she was suspicious, jealous, fretful, taunting, twitting, and often violent. Abroad, when itinerating with him, it too generally happened, that nought could please her. “The weather was either intolerably cold, or insufferably hot. The roads were bad, and the means of conveyance, unbearable. The people, by whom they were accommodated, were unpolite and rude; the provisions were scanty, or ill prepared; and the beds were hard, and the covering not sufficient.”[138] Such were the whinings of a woman who began life as a domestic servant. Her husband was a gentleman and a scholar, but was almost an utter stranger to the comforts of wedded life. In lieu of them, he had annoyances, which, to most men, would have been intolerable; and it is no mean proof of the genuine greatness of his character, that during this protracted domestic wretchedness of thirty years’ continuance, his public career never wavered, nor appeared to lose one jot of its amazing energy. “He repeatedly told me,” writes Henry Moore, “that he believed the Lord overruled this painful business for his good; and that, if Mrs. Wesley had been a better wife, he might have been unfaithful in the great work to which God had called him, and might have too much sought to please her according to her own views.”[139]

We must now return to the year 1751. Five weeks after his marriage, Wesley set out for the north of England. He spent Sunday, March 31, at Birmingham, where he warned the society against idle disputes and vain janglings; and was “obliged to preach abroad, the room not being able to contain half the congregation.” He writes: “O how is the scene changed here! The last time I preached at Birmingham, the stones flew on every side. If any disturbance were made now, the disturber would be in more danger than the preacher.”

At Dudley, Wesley was welcomed by a “dismal screaming.” At Wednesbury, the work had been injured by “doubtful disputations.” The predestinarians had not come near the place while persecution lasted; but, “when all was calm, they poured in on every side, and bereaved us of our children.” The society was reduced from three hundred members to seventy, all of whom were weak and lifeless.[140] Throughout the whole neighbourhood, “the classes were miserably shattered by the sowers of strange doctrines,”—baptists and others included.

Arriving at Bolton on the 10th of April, Wesley went to a barber to be shaved. “Sir,” said the man of lather, “I praise God on your behalf. When you were at Bolton last, I was one of the greatest drunkards in the town; but I came to listen at the window, God struck me to the heart, and twelve months ago I was converted.”

Here Wesley was also introduced to a clergyman, who deserves a passing notice. The vicar of Chipping, a village about ten miles north of Preston, was the Rev. J. Milner. Up to the present, Wesley and Milner had never met, though a warm friendship existed between them. Milner had written to Wesley in the most loving terms, and had become a subscriber to his “Christian Library.” He had embraced Wesley’s doctrines; and, as a consequence, most of the neighbouring clergy had cast him off; and all manner of evil was spoken concerning him. Writing to Wesley, in 1750, Milner says: “Twice I have had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ingham. There is a great deal of amiable sweetness in his whole behaviour. I have often wished, that he was disentangled from the Moravians, and cordially one with you in promoting the interests of the gospel. The last time I saw him, he was employed in reconciling two of the Brethren. He allows you incomparably the preference for prudence; but says you have not done Count Zinzendorf justice. At first, I looked upon the difference as that betwixt Paul and Barnabas, which was a furtherance to the gospel of Christ; but since I knew more of the doctrine of the still Brethren, I have not had the same favourable opinion of them. Yet, I cannot help thinking Mr. Ingham happy; but may some good providence bring you speedily together; for surely, such souls must glow at meeting, and all unkindness fly at first sight.”[141]

Wesley accompanied Milner to his vicarage at Chipping, which, henceforth, became one of his favourite haunts. In 1752, Milner allowed him to occupy his church; and, for this, was brought before the bishop. Milner told his lordship the story of the Bolton barber, and then descanted on the grand society of Christian worshippers at Newcastle. The bishop talked about order; but Milner replied he had nowhere seen so little order as in the bishop’s own cathedral, where the children took no notice of the preacher, and the choristers rudely talked, and thrust one another with their elbows. He added, that there certainly was need of some one to call them back to the doctrines of the Reformation; for he knew not a single clergyman, in the whole of Lancashire, “that would give the Church’s definition of faith, and stand to it.”[142]

Having spent the night with Milner, Wesley and he proceeded, “over more than Welsh mountains,” to Whitehaven, which they reached on Saturday, April 13. At the pressing request of Joseph Cownley, Wesley had preached here in September, 1749, and had formed a society. He now found two hundred and forty persons meeting in class; and, among the whole, there was only one who ever missed the class without absolute necessity. On Saturday, April 20, he and his clerical friend Milner arrived at the Orphan House, at Newcastle, where they found the society “loving, simple, and zealous of good works.”

On Monday morning following, Wesley, for the first time, set out for Scotland. This was in compliance with the wish of Captain (afterwards Colonel) Gallatin, who was then quartered at Musselburgh; and who, together with his Christian lady, showed the Wesleys the sincerest friendship to the end of life. Twenty-seven years after this, Wesley wrote: 1778, December 18.—I called upon Colonel Gallatin. But what a change is here! The fine gentleman, the soldier, is clean gone; sunk into a feeble, decrepit old man; not able to rise from his seat, and hardly able to speak.” He died soon after, and Charles Wesley evinced his respect for his memory, by composing a beautiful hymn on the occasion, in which he speaks of him as his “bosom friend,” and as “gentle, generous, and sincere.”

Wesley, accompanied by Christopher Hopper, arrived at Musselburgh on April 24. He says, he had no intention to preach in Scotland; nor did he imagine, that there were any that desired he should. A crowd, however, collected in the evening, and “remained as statues from the beginning of the sermon to the end.” Next day, he rode to Edinburgh, which he describes as “one of the dirtiest cities he had ever seen,” Cologne itself not excepted. He returned to dinner, and preached again at six; and “used great plainness of speech,” which was “received in love.” After preaching, one of the bailies of the town, with one of the elders of the kirk, begged he would stay with them awhile, and promised they would fit him up a preaching place. His other arrangements prevented him complying with this courteous request; but, in lieu of this, he offered them the services of Hopper. For a fortnight, Hopper preached night and morning, to large congregations, who heard with great attention; many were cut to the heart; several were joined together in a small society; and thus Methodism gained a footing across the border.[143] Other preachers followed; but the results were small. In the month of August next ensuing, Charles Wesley, who was then at Newcastle, wrote: “I had much discourse with a brother from Scotland, who has preached there many weeks, and not converted one soul. ‘You may just as well preach to the stones,’ he added, ‘as to the Scots.’ Yet, to keep my brother’s word, I sent William Shent to Musselburgh.”

It is clear, that Charles Wesley was not flushed with hope of Methodist success among the Scots. Whitefield, also, said to Wesley himself: “You have no business in Scotland; for your principles are so well known, that, if you spoke like an angel, none would hear you; and, if they did, you would have nothing to do but to dispute with one and another from morning to night.” To this Wesley subsequently answered: “If God sends me, people will hear. And I will give them no provocation to dispute; for I will studiously avoid all controverted points, and keep to the fundamental truths of Christianity. And if any still begin to dispute, they may; but I will not dispute with them.”[144] Whitefield, however, was not satisfied. In a letter to the Countess of Huntingdon, dated Edinburgh, July 30, 1751, he adds: “I have been to Musselburgh to see Captain Gallatin and his lady. They hold on. Mr. Wesley has been there, and intends setting up societies, which I think imprudent.”[145]

From the first, men have doubted whether Methodism had a mission to the Scots. Even as late as the year 1826, Dr. Adam Clarke, not the least sanguine of men, wrote: “I consider Methodism as having no hold of Scotland, but in Glasgow and Edinburgh. If all the other chapels were disposed of, it would be little loss to Methodism; and a great saving of money, which might be much better employed.”[146] Wesley, however, as we shall find hereafter, was successful; and, had his preachers and successors adhered to the principle adopted by himself, the results would probably have been far greater than what they are. Perhaps he never had the popularity in Scotland that Whitefield reached; but his work has proved to be more lasting. The one formed a denomination of his own; the other wrought with churches already in existence, and the fruit of his labours was lost in theirs. Though Methodism across the Tweed has never had the same success as it has had in England, yet it would be untrue to say, that its efforts have been a failure. Besides, there have been causes for the difference. In England, Wesley and his assistants found the masses ignorant; in Scotland they had to battle with, a partially enlightened prejudice. In England, the great body of the people were without a creed; in Scotland, the people were creed-ridden. In England, the itinerant plan was not objected to; in Scotland, it has always been a bugbear. Still, one cannot but lament, that the success has not been greater; and we strongly incline to think, that the reasons just assigned are not sufficient to account for the sad defect. Wesley went, not to oppose and to abuse Calvinism, but to preach fundamental truths. If others would dispute, he would not. Truth, not controversy, is the means of converting men. Besides, is it not a fact, that Methodism has sometimes been tampered with, in order to adapt it, forsooth, to Scotch taste and prejudice? This was not Wesley’s way. “What can be done to increase the work of God in Scotland?” he asked. “Answer:—1. Preach abroad as much as possible. 2. Try every town and village. 3. Visit every member of the society at home.”[147] “The way to do them good in Scotland,” he wrote nine years before his death, “is to observe all our rules at Inverness, just as you would at Sheffield; yea, and to preach the whole Methodist doctrine, as plainly and simply as you would in Yorkshire.”[148]

On returning from Musselburgh to Newcastle, Wesley preached at Berwick, to a large congregation, in the midst of a piercing wind; also at Alnwick cross; and at Alemouth, where he found the largest congregation he had seen in all Northumberland.

Having spent a week at Newcastle and among the neighbouring societies, he set out, on the 6th of May, for the south of England. At Stockton, a few angry people “set up a dismal scream” as he was entering the town; but he found that, “by means of a plain, rough exhorter, the society had been more than doubled since he was there before.”[149]

On May 7, he came to York, where was a small society of about half-a-dozen members, with Thomas Staton as their leader, and a room in Pump Yard for their meeting place. From York, Wesley rode to Epworth, where he found “a poor, dead, senseless people; at which,” says he, “I did not wonder, when I was informed (1) That some of our preachers there had diligently gleaned up and retailed all the evil they could hear of me; (2) that some of them had quite laid aside our hymns, as well as the doctrine they formerly preached; (3) that one of them had frequently spoke against our rules, and the others quite neglected them.”

From Epworth, Wesley rode back to Leeds, where he preached “in the walls” of a new chapel; and then held a conference with about thirty of his preachers, particularly inquiring about “their grace, and gifts, and fruit; and found reason to doubt of one only.” Two days after, on the 17th of May he “preached in the new house at Birstal, already too small for even a week day’s congregation.” And then, “after a few days more spent among the neighbouring societies, he returned, by easy journeys, to the metropolis.”

To add to his anxieties, Kingswood school was now in trouble. Three years before, it had been begun with twenty-eight scholars, six masters, and six servants. Wesley had written grammars of the English, French, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin languages, and had printed many other books for the use of the pupils. Soon, however, the maid servants began to quarrel. The masters, also, failed to answer Wesley’s expectations. One of them was rough and disobliging; another was honest and diligent, but his person and his manner made him contemptible; a third was grave and weighty in his behaviour, but the children were set against him; and a fourth, instead of restraining the boys from play, played with them. Four or five of the larger boys grew wicked, and the others became “wilder and wilder, till all their religious impressions were worn off.” The result of the whole was,—the establishment on Kingswood Hill was now, at the end of three years, reduced to two masters, two servants, and eleven children; but Wesley writes: “I believe all in the house are, at length, of one mind; and trust God will bless us in the latter end, more than in the beginning.”

Another trouble, awaiting Wesley, on his return from the north of England, was the scandal occasioned by the sin of James Wheatley. This unhappy man had been a Methodist itinerant preacher since the year 1742. At the beginning of his public labours, he was diligent and useful; but, while in Ireland, he unfortunately became acquainted with certain Moravians of the antinomian creed, and practically, at least, embraced their principles. Wesley says, that Wheatley was never “clear in the faith, and perhaps not sound. According to his understanding was his preaching,—an unconnected rhapsody of unmeaning words, like Sir John Suckling’s

‘Verses, smooth and soft as cream, In which was neither depth nor stream.’”

Wesley asserts, that it was a reproach to the Methodist congregations, that Wheatley became a most popular preacher. Yet so he did; and, though several of the itinerants in Ireland complained both of his doctrine and manner of preaching, it is a fact that, in the space of a few months, he brought almost all the preachers in that kingdom to think and to speak like himself.[150] Robert Swindells and others were exalted above measure, and imagined that they, and they only, preached Christ, and Christ’s gospel. Their brethren, who differed from them, were despised, and were ignominiously branded with the cognomen of “legal preachers,” and “legal wretches.” In this way, James Wheatley’s preaching had been disastrous. Then again, as early as 1749, he had become headstrong and troublesome. Charles Wesley writes: “1749, June 14.—I threw away some advice on an obstinate preacher, James Wheatley; for I could make no impression on him, or in any degree bow his stiff neck.” “He is gone to the north expressly contrary to my advice. Whither will his wilfulness lead him at last?” Two years after this, Wesley calls him “that wonderful self-deceiver and hypocrite.” Why? In June, 1751, Richard Pearce, and Mrs. Silby, of Bradford, in Wiltshire, gave Charles Wesley to understand, that Wheatley had been guilty of indecent behaviour. Charles at once went to Bradford, and took down, from the lips of seven females, their charges against Wheatley. This document was read to Wheatley at Bristol; and, on June 25, the two Wesleys brought him to Bearfield, face to face with two of his principal accusers. He cavilled at a few circumstances, but allowed that the substance of what was said was true. He was taken to Farley, where five other women gave to Wesley’s wife the same statements which they had made to Charles. Wesley persuaded Wheatley to retire for a season from the itinerant work; but it was labour lost. He professed to be penitent; but he extenuated what he was not able to deny, and as constantly accused others as excused himself; saying, many had been guilty of “little imprudences” as well as he. He pleaded guilty to the charges brought against him; but justified himself, and basely tried to implicate his brethren. To screen himself, he traduced all the preachers; and, in doing this, told palpable untruths. Ten of the preachers in the west of England were brought before him; and each, in succession, demanded to know the sin with which Wheatley could charge him. “The accuser,” says Charles Wesley, “was silent, which convinced us of his wilful lying.” The result of the whole was his suspension, which ended in expulsion,—the first act of the kind since Methodism had been founded. The following paper was put into his hands.

“June 25, 1751.

“Because you have wrought folly in Israel, grieved the Holy Spirit of God, betrayed your own soul into temptation and sin, and the souls of many others, whom you ought, even at the peril of your own life, to have guarded against all sin; because you have given occasion to the enemies of God, whenever they shall know these things, to blaspheme the ways and truth of God:

“We can in nowise receive you as a fellow labourer, till we see clear proofs of your real and deep repentance. Of this you have given us no proof yet. You have not so much as named one single person, in all England or Ireland, with whom you have behaved ill, except those we knew before.

“The least and lowest proof of such repentance which we can receive is this: that, till our next conference (which we hope will be in October), you abstain both from preaching and from practising physic. If you do not, we are clear; we cannot answer for the consequences.

“JOHN WESLEY, CHARLES WESLEY.”

This was the first judicial sentence pronounced upon a culprit Methodist preacher. For some weeks, Wheatley went from house to house, justifying himself, and condemning Wesley and his brother for the action they had taken. He then proceeded to Norwich, where he was unknown. Reaching the gates, he gave the bridle to his horse, and was taken to one of the public inns. Before the door he observed a soldier, and, by the soldier, was introduced to a small company of serious people, who were known in Norwich by the name of puritans. He began to preach out of doors. Thousands, who had been notorious for all kinds of profaneness and irreligion, ran to hear him. Nearly two thousand of them were united together in Christian fellowship. The change in the city was most marvellous. A temporary building was erected on Timber Hill, in imitation of the one erected for Whitefield in Moorfields, and was called the Tabernacle. Meanwhile, however, a Jacobite party, commonly called the “Hell Fire Club,” a lawless fraternity who met at the Blue Bell on Orford Hill,[151] in conjunction with the papists and protestants of the city, began to oppose the growing reformation. The windows of Wheatley’s Tabernacle were smashed in pieces, and the chapel itself unroofed. Wheatley was stripped, and dragged to one of the bridges for the purpose of being drowned, but was mercifully rescued by the mayor. Horns were blown; and fireworks, dirt and stones were hurled in all directions at his followers. Some were scorched with fire; others wounded; and others had arms and legs violently broken. A plan was laid to convey the preacher to a mud pit, ten or twelve feet deep, and there to suffocate him. One day, the mob went in procession through most of the streets of Norwich, with a mock burial of the preacher, having upon his coffin the inscription—“Antichrist, Enthusiasm, Imposture, Blasphemy, and Schismatic.” They paraded twice through the Bell Yard, where the Hell Fire Club was kept; then walked three times round a fire in the castle ditch; and then, with mock solemnity, committed the coffin to the flames, and the preacher to the devil. Mrs. Overton and her daughter were beaten, had their eyes plastered up with clay, and their house filled with filthy water. Mr. Standen was left speechless; and numbers more had to be put under the surgeon’s care. On one occasion, the mob stuck a lamb upon a pole, and carried it through the streets, blasphemously crying, “Behold the Lamb of God!” They crowned a man with thorns, and scourged him, calling him by the holy name of Jesus. They carried about a picture, alleging it was the Holy Ghost, and cursed it as they went. Men, women, and children were maimed without mercy. One poor creature, big with child, died of the kicks and bruises she received; another young woman was dragged into the street, and was treated by brute after brute in a manner too shocking to relate, until she was carried home insensible, and with little hopes of living.[152] Two letters, published in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1752, and dated respectively, Norwich, February 19, and March 22, state that, for several months, the city had been disturbed and alarmed by the violent proceedings of an enraged populace, on account of their taking offence “at some encouragement given by the magistrates to Mr. Wheatley, a Welsh cobbler, lately turned Methodist preacher.” “On the 12th of January he had three constables to guard him; but the mob beat both him and them, and so covered them with mud that they could hardly be recognised. They went to his Tabernacle, broke the pulpit and windows, pulled down the seats, and untiled and destroyed a great part of the edifice. The mayor and swordbearer read the proclamation, to which the rioters responded, ‘Church and king! down with the meetings!’” It was alleged that Wheatley, by the number of his religious services, was the occasion of great numbers of both men and women neglecting their occupations; and that, as a consequence, the workhouse was filled, and the parishes burdened with helpless children. Wheatley, it is said, came to the town without a groat in his pocket, but was now receiving from ten to twelve guineas every week. He had been a noted bad liver; but now was well dressed, in a grey coat and black under habit, like a clergyman. His dear hearers, who regarded him as a holy inspired preacher, were roughly treated; for the populace, when meeting them, called out, “Bah! bah!” in reference to their being his own dear lambs; and, at a recent election of a coroner, had trundled some of them down the Castle Hill, and afterwards pumped on one, and wounded several others.

This was rough treatment; but Wheatley had been well schooled, and, in the midst of all, continued firm. His courage and his success ultimately turned the tide in his favour; and, in April, 1752, steps were taken to erect for him one of the largest chapels in the city. For a time, this was supplied by him, and Cudworth, and Robinson, afterwards the noted Socinian minister at Cambridge.

Space forbids our following the history of James Wheatley further; except to say, that, in 1754, he again disgraced himself; and the judge of the ecclesiastical court at Norwich, before whom his case was tried, on February 4, 1756, declared him to be “a lewd, debauched, incontinent, and adulterous person; and stated, he had committed the crimes of adultery, fornication, and incontinence, to the great scandal of good men, and the pernicious example of others; and, that he (the judge) decreed, that the said Wheatley be enjoined a public penance, to be performed in a linen cloth, with a paper pinned to his breast, denoting his crime; and, that he further pay the costs of his prosecution.”[153]

For a time, poor Wheatley was obliged to leave the kingdom. He then returned to Norwich, and preached to his “dear lambs” for several years, after which he lost his voice, and went to Bristol, where he was suddenly seized, in a barber’s shop, with a violent fit of coughing, and expired. John Pawson, who knew him, and from whose manuscript letters this is taken, adds: “He was one of the greatest mysteries that ever bore human shape. Such a degree of hypocrisy hardly ever lodged in a human heart before.”

The detected immorality of James Wheatley, and his accusation of other preachers, led Wesley and his brother to determine upon instituting a more strict inquiry into the life, and behaviour of the preachers in connection with them.

It was now twelve years since Methodism was fairly founded. During that period, eighty-five itinerants had, more or less, preached and acted under Wesley’s guidance. Of these, one (Wheatley) had been expelled; six, Thomas Beard, Enoch Williams, Samuel Hitchens, Thomas Hitchens, John Jane, and Henry Millard, had died in their Master’s work; ten, for various reasons, had retired; and sixty-eight were still employed, namely:—

Cornlieus Bastable William Biggs John Bennet Benjamin Beanland William Crouch Jonathan Catlow Alexander Coates Joseph Cownley William Darney John Downes Edward Dunstan John Edwards John Fisher William Fugill Nicholas Gilbert Paul Greenwood John Haughton Thomas Hardwick William Holmes John Haime William Hitchens Christopher Hopper Herbert Jenkins Joseph Jones Samuel Jones John Jones Thomas Kead Samuel Larwood Henry Lloyd Thomas Lee Thomas Maxfield John Maddern Richard Moss James Morris Jonathan Maskew John Morley Samuel Megget Thomas Mitchell James Morgan James Massiott John Nelson James Oddie William Prior John Pearce Edward Perronet Charles Perronet Jacob Rowell Thomas Richards Jonathan Reeves William Roberts William Shent Charles Skelton Robert Swindells Thomas Seacombe John Trembath David Tratham Joseph Tucker William Tucker John Turner Thomas Tobias Thomas Westall Thomas Walsh Thomas Williams Francis Walker Eleazer Webster John Whitford Richd. Williamson James Wild

Of this number, two were expelled, viz. Thomas Williams in 1755, and William Fugill in 1768; and forty-one left the itinerancy; thus leaving only twenty-five of the sixty-eight preachers employed in 1751, who died in the itinerant work. Several of those who left became clergymen of the Church of England, some Dissenting ministers, and some, on account of failing health or for domestic reasons, entered into business, but lived and died as local preachers. There is, however, another fact too notable to be omitted, namely, that, of the forty-one preachers who relinquished the itinerancy, six resigned in 1751, six in 1752, and twelve within four years after that.[154] This was a serious sifting; but the searching examinations of 1751, and the sacramental disturbances of the next five years, account for it.

As already stated, the case of James Wheatley led the Wesleys to resolve upon a thorough inquiry into the character and creed of all their preachers. The office fell upon Charles; and, for that purpose, he started for Leeds on June 28. He preached and visited all the societies on the way. At Worcester, the mob, with faces blacked, some without shirts, and all in rags, began to curse and swear, and sing lewd songs, and throw dust and dirt over both the preacher and his congregation, till they were covered from head to foot, and almost blinded.

The conference, for inquiry, was opened at Leeds, on September 11. It consisted of about a dozen preachers and three clergymen, and was begun by singing a hymn, which Charles Wesley seems to have composed for the occasion, and a few stanzas of which are here subjoined.

“Arise, Thou jealous God, arise, Thy sifting power exert, Look through us with Thy flaming eyes, And search out every heart.

Our inmost souls Thy Spirit knows, And let Him now display Whom Thou hast for Thy glory chose, And purge the rest away.

The apostles false far off remove, Thy faithful labourers own, And give us each himself to prove, And know as he is known.

Do I presume to preach Thy word By Thee uncalled, unsent? Am I the servant of the Lord, Or Satan’s instrument?

I once unfeignedly believed Myself sent forth by Thee; But have I kept the grace received, In simple poverty?”

Twelve verses of this searching hymn were sung; its author, the president, prayed; and then stated his views, freely and fully, concerning the qualifications, work, and trials of Methodist preachers. No immediate action was taken, except that poor William Darney, who had just published his “Collection of Hymns, in four parts,” was refused admittance, and was told, that unless he abstained, in future, “from railing, begging, and printing nonsense,” he should be expelled. The conference lasted but a day, and seems to have passed but one resolution. “We agreed,” writes Charles Wesley, “to postpone opinions till the next general conference, and parted friends.”[155]

Charles Wesley, however, accomplished the work assigned him by his brother, more by private inquiry than by public conference. Robert Swindells he found inclined to Calvinism, but teachable; David Tratham was a confirmed predestinarian;[156] and John Bennet’s theological principles were doubted.

Wesley’s suspicions and anxieties were, at this period, quite equal to his brother’s. He had heard that Charles Skelton, and J. C. (? Joseph Cownley) “frequently and bitterly railed against the Church”; he declared, that “idleness had eaten out the heart of half their preachers, particularly those in Ireland”; and he requested his brother to give them their choice, “Either follow your trade, or resolve, before God, to spend the same hours in reading, etc., which you used to spend in working.” He counselled, that the young preachers should not be checked without strong necessity; and said, that, in the process of sifting, he should prefer grace before gifts. They must deal, not only with disorderly walkers, but with triflers, the effeminate, and busybodies. In a letter to a friend, dated August 21, he wrote: “I see plainly the spirit of Ham, if not of Corah, has fully possessed several of our preachers. So much the more freely and firmly do I acquiesce in the determination of my brother, ‘that it is far better for us to have ten, or six preachers, who are alive to God, sound in the faith, and of one heart with us and with one another, than fifty of whom we have no such assurance.’”

Towards the end of the year, Wesley and his brother conferred with their confidential adviser, the Rev. Vincent Perronet, and then drew up and signed the following agreement.

“With regard to the preachers, we agree—

“1. That none shall be permitted to preach in any of our societies, till he be examined, both as to grace and gifts; at least, by the assistant, who, sending word to us, may, by our answer, admit him a local preacher.

“2. That such preacher be not immediately taken from his trade, but be exhorted to follow it with all diligence.

“3. That no person shall be received as a travelling preacher, or be taken from his trade, by either of us alone, but by both of us conjointly, giving him a note under both our hands.

“4. That neither of us will re-admit a travelling preacher laid aside, without the consent of the other.

“5. That, if we should ever disagree in our judgment, we will refer the matter to Mr. Perronet.

“6. That we will entirely be patterns of all we expect from every preacher; particularly of zeal, diligence, and punctuality in the work; by constantly preaching and meeting the society; by visiting yearly Ireland, Cornwall, and the north; and, in general, by superintending the whole work, and every branch of it, with all the strength that God shall give us. We agree to the above written, till this day next year, in the presence of Mr. Perronet.

“JOHN WESLEY, CHARLES WESLEY.”[157]

This was a momentous epoch in Methodist history. The Wesleys were well aware, that pulpits mould pews. “Like priest, like people,” is a proverb not older than it is true. Perhaps, we cannot do better than conclude the matter with an extract from a long letter, which Wesley wrote to a friend, just before the year was ended.

“LONDON, December 20, 1751.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—I think the right method of preaching is this. At our first beginning to preach at any place, after a general declaration of the love of God to sinners, and His willingness that they should be saved, to preach the law, in the strongest, the closest, the most searching manner possible.

“After more and more persons are convinced of sin, we may mix more and more of the gospel, in order to beget faith, to raise into spiritual life those whom the law hath slain. I would not advise to preach the law without the gospel, any more than the gospel without the law. Undoubtedly, both should be preached in their turns; yea, both at once, or both in one. All the conditional promises are instances of this. They are law and gospel mixed together.

“In this manner, not only my brother and I, but Mr. Maxfield, Nelson, James Jones, Westall, and Reeves, all preached at the beginning. By this preaching, it pleased God to work those mighty effects in London, Bristol, Kingswood, Yorkshire, and Newcastle. By means of this, twenty-nine persons received remission of sins, in one day, at Bristol only; most of them, while I was opening and enforcing our Lord’s sermon on the mount. In this manner, John Downes, John Bennet, John Haughton, and all the other Methodists, preached, till James Wheatley came among them. The change he has introduced has done great harm to David Tratham, Thomas Webb, Robert Swindells, and John Maddern; all of whom are but shadows of what they were. It has likewise done great harm to hearers as well as preachers, diffusing among them a prejudice against the scriptural, Methodist manner of preaching Christ, so that they can no longer hear the plain old truth, with profit or pleasure, nay hardly with patience. The ‘gospel preachers,’ so called, corrupt their hearers, and they vitiate their taste. They feed them with sweetmeats, till the genuine wine of the kingdom seems quite insipid to them. They give them cordial upon cordial, which make them all life and spirit for the present; but, meantime, their appetite is destroyed, so that they can neither retain nor digest the pure milk of the word.

“According to the constant observations I have made, in all parts both of England and Ireland, preachers of this kind spread death, not life, among their hearers. This was the case when I went last into the north. For some time before my coming, John Downes had scarce been able to preach at all; the three others, in the round, were such as style themselves ‘gospel preachers.’ When I came to review the societies, with great expectation of finding a vast increase, I found most of them lessened by one third. One was entirely broken up. That of Newcastle was less by a hundred members than when I visited it before; and, of those that remained, the far greater number, in every place, were cold, weary, heartless, and dead. Such were the blessed effects of this gospel-preaching! of this new method of preaching Christ.

“On the other hand, when, in my return, I took an account of the societies in Yorkshire, chiefly under the care of John Nelson, one of the old way, I found them all alive, strong, and vigorous of soul, believing, loving, and praising God their Saviour; and increased in number from eighteen or nineteen hundred, to upwards of three thousand. These had been continually fed with wholesome food. From the beginning they had been taught both the law and the gospel. ‘God loves you; therefore love and obey Him. Christ died for you; therefore die to sin. Christ is risen; therefore rise in the image of God. Christ liveth evermore; therefore live to God, till you live with Him in glory.’

“So we preached; and so you believed. This is the scriptural way, the Methodist way, the true way. God grant we may never turn therefrom, to the right hand or to the left.

“I am, my dear friend, your ever affectionate brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[158]

It has been already stated, that Whitefield embarked for America in the month of August. Before sailing, he penned a letter, an extract from which will be read with some surprise.

“BRISTOL, March 22, 1751.

“REVEREND AND VERY DEAR SIR,—Thanks be to God, that the time for favouring the colony of Georgia seems to be come. Now is the season for us to exert our utmost for the good of the poor Ethiopians. We are told, that even they are soon to stretch out their hands to God; and who knows but their being settled in Georgia may be overruled for this great end? As for the lawfulness of keeping slaves, I have no doubt, since I hear of some that were bought with Abraham’s money, and some that were born in his house. I also cannot help thinking, that some of those servants mentioned by the apostles in their epistles were, or had been, slaves. It is plain, that the Gibeonites were doomed to perpetual slavery; and, though liberty is a sweet thing to such as are born free, yet to those who never knew the sweets of it, slavery perhaps may not be so irksome. However this be, it is plain, to a demonstration, that hot countries cannot be cultivated without negroes. What a flourishing country might Georgia have been, had the use of them been permitted years ago! How many white people have been destroyed for want of them, and how many thousands of pounds spent to no purpose at all? Though it is true, that they are brought in a wrong way, from their own country, and it is a trade not to be approved of, yet as it will be carried on whether we will or not, I should think myself highly favoured if I could purchase a good number of them, in order to make their lives comfortable, and lay a foundation for breeding up their posterity in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. I had no hand in bringing them into Georgia, though my judgment was for it, and I was strongly importuned thereto; yet, I would not have a negro upon my plantation, till the use of them was publicly allowed by the colony. Now this is done, let us diligently improve the present opportunity for their instruction. It rejoiced my soul, to hear that one of my poor negroes in Carolina was made a brother in Christ. How know we but we may have many such instances in Georgia? I trust many of them will be brought to Jesus, and this consideration, as to us, swallows up all temporal inconveniences whatsoever.

“I am, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[159]

This is a strange production, especially when read in the present day; but it was not unmeaning talk. Whitefield acted upon the principle propounded, and, at the time of his decease, twenty years afterwards, was the possessor of seventy-five slaves, in connection with his Orphan House plantations in the Georgian settlements.[160] His intention was good; but his warmest admirer will find it difficult to defend his action. We shall, hereafter, become acquainted with Wesley’s views, when the time arrives for noticing his “Thoughts upon Slavery”; suffice it to remark here, that they were in perfect accordance with his well known designation of the slave trade, in 1772,—“an execrable sum of all villanies.”

On August 19, Wesley and his wife set out for Cornwall. At Tiverton, he went to hear a sermon preached at the old church, before the trustees of the school; but “such insufferable noise and confusion he never saw before in a place of worship; no, not even in a Jewish synagogue. The clergy set the example, laughing and talking during great part both of the prayers and sermon.” The next day, he himself preached, when a mob, from Blundell’s school, came with horns, drums, and fifes, and created all the disturbance in their power. They seized a poor chimney sweeper (though no Maccabee, as the Methodists in Tiverton were called), carried him away in triumph, and half murdered him before he could escape from their cruel clutches. A short time after this, the mayor of Tiverton asked a gentleman whether it was not right, that the Methodists should be banished from the town. The gentleman recommended his worship to follow the counsel of Gamaliel to the Jews; upon which the furious functionary observed, that there was no need of any new religion in Tiverton. “There is,” said he, “the old church and the new church; that is one religion. Then there is parson K——’s at the Pitt meeting, and parson W——’s in Peter Street, and old parson T——’s at the meeting in Newport Street,—four ways of going to heaven already; enough in conscience; and if the people won’t go to heaven by one or other of these ways, by —— they shan’t go to heaven at all herefrom, while I am mayor of Tiverton.”[161]

Leaving the religious town of Tiverton, Wesley and his wife went to Taunton, where a mob of “boys and gentlemen” made so much noise, that he was obliged to desist from preaching in the street, and to finish his discourse in the meeting room; on issuing from which his congregation were furiously pelted with all sorts of missiles.

After spending a happy month in Cornwall, and preaching all the way to and fro, he got back to London on October 21, where, with the exception of a short excursion to Canterbury, he continued until the year was ended.

During this brief breathing time, Wesley began his second letter to Lavington, bishop of Exeter. “Heavy work,” says he, “such as I should never choose; but sometimes it must be done. Well might the ancient say, ‘God made practical divinity necessary, the devil controversial.’ But it is necessary: we must resist the devil, or he will not flee from us.”

He likewise entered into correspondence with his disabled itinerant, John Downes, whose health was failing, and who found it necessary to seek temporary retirement. He writes:—

“Some of the preachers do not adorn the gospel; therefore, we have been constrained to lay some of them aside; and some others have departed of themselves. Let us that remain be doubly in earnest. I entreat you, tell me without reserve, what you think of Charles Skelton. Is his heart with us, or is it not? How are you employed? from five in the morning till nine at night? For I suppose you want eight hours’ sleep. What becomes of logic and Latin? Is your soul alive and more athirst for God? You must carefully guard against any irregularity, either as to food, sleep, or labour. Your water should be neither quite warm, for fear of relaxing the tone of your stomach, nor quite cold. Of all flesh, mutton is the best for you; of all vegetables, turnips, potatoes, and apples, if you can bear them. I think it is ill husbandry for you to work with your hands, in order to get money; because you may be better employed. But, if you will work, come and superintend my printing. I will give you £40 for the first year; afterwards, if need be, I will increase your salary; and still you may preach as often as you can preach. However, come, whether you print, or preach, or not.”[162]

John Downes was a remarkable man. Wesley, in his Journal, gives several instances of his mathematical and mechanical talent, and considered him “by nature full as great a genius as Sir Isaac Newton.” He accepted Wesley’s proposal, and, at the age of fifty-two, after a long conflict with sickness, pain, and poverty, died a triumphant death in 1774.

During the year 1751, Wesley was more than usually occupied. First of all, there was his hasty and unhappy marriage. This was followed by the case of Wheatley. Then, there was the not unneeded sifting of his preachers, both itinerant and local. And added to all this, there was the preparation for his “Christian Library”; eleven volumes of which were published in 1751. But, according to our wont, we conclude the chapter with a complete list of the year’s publications.

1. “Thoughts upon Infant Baptism. Extracted from a late writer.” 12mo, 21 pages. This is a summary of the arguments commonly used to vindicate the practice of baptizing children. Those who have doubts on the subject would do well to read Wesley’s tract. We know of no publication, that, in so small a compass, states the arguments so clearly and so conclusively.

2. “A Short Hebrew Grammar.” 12mo, 11 pages.

3. “A Short Greek Grammar.” 12mo, 80 pages.

4. “A Short French Grammar.” 12mo, 35 pages.

Of course these were designed for the use of Kingswood school. On the subject of languages, Wesley writes: “The Greek excels the Hebrew as much in beauty and strength as it does in copiousness. I suppose no one from the beginning of the world wrote better Hebrew than Moses. But does not the language of St. Paul excel the language of Moses, as much as the knowledge of St. Paul excelled his? I speak this, even on supposition, that you read the Hebrew, as I believe, Ezra, if not Moses, did, with points; for if we read it in the modern way, without points, I appeal to every competent judge, whether it be not the most equivocal.”[163] It is a curious fact, that Wesley advised no one above twenty years of age to think of learning Greek or Latin, on the ground that he could then employ his time abundantly better.[164] French he considered to be “the poorest, meanest language in Europe,” and “no more comparable to the German or Spanish, than a bagpipe is to an organ.”[165]

5. “Serious Thoughts upon the Perseverance of the Saints.” 12mo, 24 pages. This was a timely production, and, though concise, is written with much calmness and ability. Wesley admits, that both sides of the question are attended with great difficulties,—difficulties such as unassisted reason is unable to remove; and, therefore, says he, “let the living oracles decide. If these speak for us, we neither seek nor want further witness.” He clearly shows, that Calvinists constantly avail themselves of two fallacies. “1. They perpetually beg the question by applying, to particular persons, texts which relate only to the church in general; and some of them only to the Jewish church and nation, as distinguished from all other people. 2. They take for granted, as an indisputable truth, that whatever our Lord speaks to, or of His apostles, is to be applied to all believers.”

6. Eleven volumes of the “Christian Library,” from Vol. II. to Vol. XII. inclusive, and making altogether three thousand two hundred and fifty 12mo printed pages.

Vol. II. contains a continuation of John Arndt’s “True Christianity.” Vols. III. to VI., inclusive, are occupied with an abridgment of Fox’s Book of Martyrs; and Vols. VII. to XII. with extracts from the works of Bishop Hall, Robert Bolton, Dr. Preston, Dr. Sibbes, Dr. Goodwin, William Dell, and Dr. Manton.

1752.

[Sidenote: 1752 Age 49]

The year 1752 is skipped by the whole of Wesley’s biographers; and yet it was not devoid of incident.

Charles Wesley was now on terms of intimate friendship with the Countess of Huntingdon, and frequently preached and administered the sacrament in her ladyship’s house, to personages of great distinction.[166]

Whitefield arrived from America in the month of May; in June set out on a tour to Wales and the west of England; and in August to the north and to Scotland. The last six weeks of the year he spent in London, and began to take steps towards the erection of the Tabernacle in Moorfields.

He was considerably annoyed at the publication of Wesley’s tract on final perseverance, and, on February 5, wrote as follows: “Poor Mr. Wesley is striving against the stream. Strong assertions will not go for proofs with those who are sealed by the Holy Spirit even unto the day of redemption.”[167]

Several of Wesley’s itinerants began to be disloyal to their chiefs; and this led to the following document being signed with the names appended.

“January 29, 1752. It is agreed by us whose names are underwritten,—

“1. That we will not listen, or willingly inquire after any ill concerning each other.

“2. That, if we do hear any ill of each other, we will not be forward to believe it.

“3. That, as soon as possible, we will communicate what we hear, by speaking or writing to the person concerned.

“4. That, till we have done this, we will not write or speak a syllable of it, to any other person whatever.

“5. That neither will we mention it, after we have done this, to any other person.

“6. That we will not make any exception to any of these rules, unless we think ourselves absolutely obliged in conscience so to do.

“JOHN WESLEY, CHARLES WESLEY, JOHN TREMBATH, E. PERRONET, J. DOWNES, JONATHAN REEVES, JOSEPH COWNLEY, C. PERRONET, THOMAS MAXFIELD, JOHN JONES, JOHN NELSON, WILLIAM SHENT, JOHN HAIME.”[168]

Seven weeks later, another document, dated March 16, 1752, was drawn up and signed, chiefly through the influence of Charles Wesley.[169]

“We whose names are underwritten, being clearly and fully convinced, (1) That the success of the present work of God does in great measure depend on the entire union of all the labourers employed therein; (2) that our present call is chiefly to the members of that Church wherein we have been brought up;—are absolutely determined, by the grace of God, (1) To abide in the closest union with each other, and never knowingly or willingly to hear, speak, do, or suffer anything which tends to weaken that union; (2) never to leave the communion of the Church of England without the consent of all whose names are subjoined.

“CHARLES WESLEY, JOHN WESLEY, JOHN DOWNES, WILLIAM SHENT, JOHN JONES, JOHN NELSON.”[170]

These are curious and important papers, showing that, to a great extent, suspicion had taken the place of confidence, and that Methodism was in danger from “false brethren.”

On Sunday, March 15, Wesley set out from London, on his long northern journey, which, with his tour to Ireland, occupied his time for seven months. All the way to Manchester, which he reached on March 26, he encountered a continued succession of storms of wind and snow, but was not deterred from preaching, even in the open air.

At Manchester, he went, on Good Friday, to the cathedral, where his old friend, Mr. Clayton, read the prayers “more distinctly, solemnly, and gracefully” than he had ever heard them read. He spent three days in a searching examination of the members of the Manchester society, and found reason to believe, “that there was not one disorderly walker therein.”

At Birstal, he preached out of doors, and was surprised to find, that those of the congregation who were a hundred and forty yards distant, distinctly heard him. At Leeds, he preached in the new chapel. At Wakefield, in the church, and writes: “Who would have expected to see me preaching in Wakefield church, to so attentive a congregation, a few years ago, when all the people were as roaring lions; and the honest man did not dare to let me preach in his yard, lest the mob should pull down his houses?”

At Sheffield, he preached “in the shell of the new house”; and says, “All is peace here now, since the trial at York, at which the magistrates were sentenced to rebuild the house which the mob had pulled down.”

At Epworth, he found his coarse, ignorant, wicked brother-in-law, Richard Ellison, who had farmed his own estate, reduced to poverty. All his cows were dead, and all his horses, excepting one. For two years past, all his meadow land had been flooded; his money and means were gone; and Wesley recommended him to Ebenezer Blackwell, as a fitting object to be relieved out of the funds disposed of by Mr. Butterfield.[171] Nine years afterwards, Charles Wesley buried him.

On landing at Hull, the quay was covered with people, inquiring, “Which is he? Which is he?” But, for the present, they only stared, inquired, and laughed. At night he preached, “a huge multitude, rich and poor, horse and foot, with several coaches,” being gathered together at Mighton-Car. Thousands gave serious attention; “but many behaved as if possessed by Moloch. Clods and stones flew on every side.” A gentlewoman invited Wesley and his wife into her carriage, in which were six persons, besides herself, already. Wesley writes: “There were nine of us in the coach, three on each side, and three in the middle. The mob closely attended us, throwing in at the windows whatever came next to hand; but a large gentlewoman, who sat in my lap, screened me, so that nothing came near me.” On arriving at his lodgings, the windows were smashed, and, till midnight, he and his host were, more or less, saluted with oaths, curses, stones, and brickbats. This was a rough reception, and Wesley did not repeat his visit for seven years.

From Hull, Wesley and his wife proceeded to Pocklington, where he had been announced to preach, though there was no society, and scarcely a converted person in the town. The room, which had been provided for the preaching, was five yards square, which Wesley reasonably enough thought too small. A yard was looked at, but it was plentifully furnished with stones, and Wesley’s experience taught him that these might be dangerous artillery in the hands of the “devil’s drunken companions.” At last, a gentleman offered a large commodious barn, in which Wesley had the most blessed season of refreshing that he had had since his leaving London.

At York, a magistrate had stuck up in public places, and distributed in private houses, part of Lavington’s Papists and Methodists Compared; and hence, as soon as Wesley and his spouse passed through the city gates, they were saluted with bitter curses.

At Osmotherley, he visited a scoffer at all religion, who was either raving mad, or possessed of the devil. The woman told him, that the devil had appeared and talked to her for some time, the day before, and had leaped upon, and grievously tormented her ever since. Wesley says: “We prayed with her. Her agonies ceased. She fell asleep, and awoke in the morning calm and easy.” Osmotherley tradition says, that the name of this maniac was Elizabeth Whitfield.

Wesley reached Newcastle, the centre of his northern peregrinations, on April 30. At Sunderland, he “found one of the liveliest societies in the north of England. This,” says he, “is the effect of their being so much under the law, as to scruple, one and all, the buying even milk on a Sunday.” He preached at Alemouth, and made this remarkable entry in his Journal: “How plain an evidence have we here, that even our outward work, even the societies, are not of man’s building! With all our labour and skill, we cannot, in nine years’ time, form a society in this place; even though there is none that opposes, poor or rich; nay, though the two richest men in the town, and the only gentlemen there, have done all which was in their power to further it.”

At Wickham, he met with a remarkable case. Mrs. Armstrong, before whose house he preached, was an old lady of more than fourscore years of age. From childhood, the Bible had been her companion; but recently, on mounting her spectacles, she was not able to see a word. She took them off; looked again; and could read as well as her daughter could. “From that hour, she could not only read without spectacles, but sew, or thread the finest needle, with the same ease as when she was thirty.”

At Barnard Castle, the mob was numerous and loud. The rabble fetched out the fire engine to play upon the congregation; but John Monkhouse, great grandfather of the late Rev. Thomas Monkhouse, seized the pipe, and diverted the stream from Wesley, so that, as he remarks, “not a drop fell on him.”[172]

From Barnard Castle, Wesley made his way to Whitehaven, intending to embark for Ireland; but the master of the ship set sail without him. Upon this, he made an excursion into Lancashire and the west of Yorkshire. He spent two days with his clerical friend, the Rev. Mr. Milner, at Chipping, and preached in the parish church to “such a congregation as was never seen there before.”

At Heptonstall, “an attorney endeavoured to interrupt, by relating low and threadbare stories; but the people cut him short” in his harangue, “by carrying him quietly away.”

At Todmorden, Wesley found the clergyman “slowly recovering from a violent fit of the palsy, with which he was struck immediately after he had been preaching a violent sermon against the Methodists.” The following items appear in the Todmorden circuit book. “1752, June 9.—Received of Mr. Grimshaw towards the maintenance of Mr. Wesley and others, in all, six shillings.” As further curiosities of Methodism we give other extracts from the same book for 1752. “April 20.—For William Darney, foreside of his waistcoat, 7_s._” “For trimming for his coat, 9_s._ 11½_d._” “To him for his wife, 20_s._” “May 5.—For friends at quarterly meeting, 1_s._ 3_d._” “June 9.—Paid to James Heanworth for Mr. Wesley and others, in all, 12_s._ 2_d._” “August 14.—Paid to William Marshall when in a strait, 5_s._” “December 14.—For writing paper, ½_d._”

At Mellar Barn, Wesley’s bedroom served “both for a bedchamber and a cellar. The closeness was more troublesome at first than the coolness; but he let in a little fresh air, by breaking a pane of paper in the window; and then slept sound till morning.”

As a specimen of Wesley’s itinerant troubles, we give the following extract from his Journal.

“1752, June 15.—I had many little trials in this journey, of a kind I had not known before. I had borrowed a young, strong mare when I set out from Manchester; but she fell lame before I got to Grimsby. I procured another, but was dismounted again between Newcastle and Berwick. At my return to Manchester I took my own; but she had lamed herself in the pasture. I thought, nevertheless, to ride her four of five miles to-day; but she was gone out of the ground, and we could hear nothing of her. However, I comforted myself that I had another at Manchester, which I had lately bought; but when I came thither, I found one had borrowed her, and rode her away to Chester.”

By some means, he rode to Chester on June 20, where “a poor alehouse keeper seemed disgusted, spoke a harmless word, and run away with speed.” While preaching “in the square,” “a man screamed and hallooed as loud as he could, but none regarded him. A few of the rabble, most of them drunk, laboured much to make a disturbance; but the far greater part of the congregation, the gentry in particular, were seriously and deeply attentive.” A few days afterwards, however, the mob made the Methodist meeting-house a heap of ruins. On July 10, Wesley and his wife got back to Whitehaven.

In the midst of these labours and journeyings, Wesley wrote as follows, to his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell.

“NEWCASTLE, May 23, 1752.

“DEAR SIR,—I want your advice. T. Butts sends me word that, after our printers’ bills are paid, the money remaining, received by the sale of the books, does not amount to £100 a year. It seems, therefore, absolutely necessary to determine one of these three things:—either to lessen the expense of printing, which I see no way of doing, unless by printing myself; or to increase the income from the books, and how this can be done I know not; or to give up those eighty-six copies, which are specified in my brother’s deed, to himself, to manage them as he pleases.

“The people in all these parts are much alive to God, being generally plain, and simple of heart. Here I should spend the greatest part of my life, if I were to follow my own inclinations. But I am not to do my own will, but the will of Him that sent me.

“I am, dear sir, your ever affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[173]

Wesley set sail, from Whitehaven, for Dublin, on July 13, and, after a passage of four days, arrived in safety. The new chapel was ready, and he describes it as “nearly of the same size and form” as that at Newcastle, with the exception, that on three sides it had deep galleries. The society consisted of about four hundred and twenty members, many of whom “were much shaken, chiefly by various opinions, which some even of his own preachers had propagated.”

The following extract from a letter, written three days after his arrival in Dublin, may be acceptable:—

“DUBLIN, July 20, 1752.

“DEAR SIR,—Finding no ship ready to sail, either at Bristol or Chester, we at length came back to Whitehaven, and embarked on Monday last. It is generally a passage of four-and-twenty hours; but the wind continuing contrary all the way, we did not reach this place till Friday evening. My wife and Jenny were extremely sick, particularly when we had a rolling sea. They are already much better than when they landed.

“Last month, a large mob assaulted the new house here, and did considerable damage. Several of the rioters were committed to Newgate. The bills were found against them all, and they were tried ten days since; but, in spite of the clearest evidence, a packed jury brought them in, Not guilty. I believe, however, the very apprehension and trial of them has struck a terror into their companions. We now enjoy great quietness, and can even walk unmolested through the principal streets in Dublin.”[174]

Shortly after, he wrote as follows to his brother Charles.

“ATHLONE, August 8, 1752.

“DEAR BROTHER,—Some of our preachers here have peremptorily affirmed, that you are not so strict as me; that you neither practise, nor enforce, nor approve of, the rules of the bands. I suppose, they mean those which condemn needless self indulgence, and recommend the means of grace, fasting in particular; which is well-nigh forgotten throughout this nation. I think it would be of use, if you wrote without delay, and explain yourself at large.

“They have, likewise, openly affirmed, that you agree with Mr. Whitefield touching perseverance, at least, if not predestination too. Is it not highly expedient, that you should write explicitly and strongly on this head likewise?

“Perhaps the occasion of this latter affirmation was, that both you and I have often granted an absolute, unconditional election of some, together with a conditional election of all men. I did incline to this scheme for many years; but of late I have doubted it more and more: First, because all the texts which I used to think supported it, I now think, prove either more or less; either absolute reprobation and election, or neither. Secondly, because I find this opinion serves all the ill purposes of absolute predestination; particularly that of supporting infallible perseverance. Talk with any that holds it, and so you will find.

“On Friday and Saturday next is our little conference at Limerick. We join in love.”[175]

No one reading Charles Wesley’s hymns will, for a moment, entertain the accusation, that he sympathised with the Calvinian tenets of his friend Whitefield; and yet, remembering, that he and the Countess of Huntingdon were now living in terms of the most intimate friendship; and, that he was frequently preaching and administering the sacrament in her ladyship’s house, it is not surprising, that such a report should have become current. As to the other point, that Charles Wesley did not approve of and enforce some of the rules of the society, we incline to think, that this was true; and that there was already an amount of shyness between the brothers, which soon afterwards threatened to become something serious.

The Limerick conference (the first in Ireland) was held on the 14th and 15th days of August. Oddly enough, there are in existence two manuscripts, written by preachers present at the conference, and containing its minutes and appointments. One of them, in my own possession, was given by an aunt of Philip Guier, to the Rev. Samuel Wood, who published a copy of it in the Irish Methodist Magazine for 1807. The other manuscript is in the handwriting of Jacob Rowell, and is now possessed by Mr. John Steele, of Chester. It is from Rowell’s manuscript that the editor of the new edition of the minutes, published in 1862, printed the minutes of the Limerick conference contained in that volume.

From these important documents we learn, that there was a general decay of the societies in Ireland, partly occasioned by the teaching of antinomian and Calvinian doctrines; partly by the want of discipline; and partly by the misbehaviour of preachers. All the itinerants present (ten in number) declared, that they did not believe in the doctrine of absolute predestination; but three of them added: “We believe there are some persons absolutely elected; but we believe, likewise, that Christ died for all; that God willeth not the death of any man; and that thousands are saved that are not absolutely elected. We believe, further, that those who are thus elected cannot finally fall; but we believe other believers may fall, and that those who were once justified may perish everlastingly.”

Let Wesley’s letter to his brother be read in the light of this extract from the Limerick minutes, and the one will help to explain the other. We have here an instance of Wesley tolerating a difference in doctrine among his preachers, so long as fundamental truths were not impugned. This might be wise or it might not; but the fact itself is a fact worth noticing.

It was resolved, however, that, in future, no man should be received as a fellow labourer unless he thoroughly agreed to both Methodist doctrine and discipline; and that, if any preacher revolted from this agreement, letters should be sent to all the societies, disowning him.

It was, also, decided, that if a man was not able to preach twice a day, he should be only a local preacher; that, of the two, it was better to give up the evening preaching in a place than the morning; that the congregations must constantly kneel in prayer, and stand both in singing and while the text was read, and be serious and silent while the service lasted, and when coming and going away. Persons not having band tickets were not to be permitted to be present at the public meeting of the bands, for this would make the tickets cheap, and would discourage those who had them. Preachers were to be allowed £8, at least, and if possible £10 a year for clothing; and £10 a year were to be allowed for the support of each preacher’s wife. The preachers were to preach frequently and strongly on fasting; and were to practise it every Friday, health permitting. Next to luxury, they were to avoid idleness, and were to spend one hour every day in private prayer.

Six preachers were admitted, one of whom was Philip Guier, concerning whom we must say a word.

It is well known, that a number of Palatines, driven from Germany, had settled in the neighbourhood of Ballingran; and that, though they were in the first instance a sober, well conducted, and moral people, they had, through having no minister of their own, and no German worship, degenerated into an irreligious, drunken, swearing community. Amidst this general degeneracy, Philip Guier breasted the wave, and, like Milton’s Abdiel, proved faithful among the faithless. He was the master of the German school at Ballingran; and it was in his school, that Philip Embury (subsequently the founder of Methodism in the United States, now a young man thirty-two years of age), had been taught to read and write. By means of Guier, also, the devoted Thomas Walsh, of the same age as Embury, had been enlightened, and prepared to receive the truth as it is in Jesus. Philip Guier was made the leader of the infant society at Limerick, and now, in 1752, was appointed to act as a local preacher among the Palatines. He still kept his school, but devoted his spare hours to preaching. The people loved the man, and sent him, if not money, yet flour, oatmeal, bacon, and potatoes, so that Philip, if not rich, was not in want. It is a remarkable fact, that, after the lapse of a hundred years, the name of Philip Guier is as fresh in Ballingran as it ever was; for there, even papists as well as protestants are accustomed to salute the Methodist minister as he jogs along on his circuit horse, and to say, “There goes Philip Guier, who drove the devil out of Ballingran!”[176] Under the date of May 7, 1778, Wesley writes: “Two months ago, good Philip Guier fell asleep, one of the Palatines that came over and settled in Ireland, between sixty and seventy years ago. He was a father both to this” [Newmarket] “and the other German societies, loving and cherishing them as his own children. He retained all his faculties to the last, and after two days’ illness went to God.”

After the conference at Limerick, Wesley proceeded to Cork, where he examined the society, and found about three hundred, who were striving to have a conscience void of offence toward God and man. At Kinsale, he preached in a large, deep hollow, capable of containing two or three thousand people, the soldiers of the fort, with their swords, cutting him a place to stand upon. At Waterford, Thomas Walsh preached in Irish, and Wesley in English, the rabble cursing, shouting, and hallooing most furiously.

At length, after spending twelve weeks in Ireland, during which there were not two dry days together, Wesley set sail for England; and, on October 14, arrived safe at Bristol. Three weeks later, he came to London, and here he continued the remainder of the year, preparing books for the “Christian Library,” on which he had already lost more than £200.

During this interval, Whitefield wrote as follows to Charles Wesley, showing that distrust was creeping in among them:—

“LONDON, December 22, 1752.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—I have read and pondered your kind letter. The connection between you and your brother has been so close and continued, and your attachment to him so necessary to keep up his interest, that I would not willingly, for the world, do or say anything that may separate such friends. I cannot help thinking, that he is still jealous of me and my proceedings; but, I thank God, I am quite easy about it. I have seen an end of all perfection. God knows how I love and honour you, and your brother, and how often I have preferred your interest to my own. This I shall continue to do. More might be said, were we face to face.

“Yours, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[177]

It is far from pleasant to end the year with a note of discord; but we shall unfortunately have to hear more of this in future years.

In concluding the chapter with the usual list of Wesley’s publications during the current year, there must be noticed:—

1. The continuation of his “Christian Library.” Twelve volumes had been given to the public already; seven more were issued in 1752, containing extracts from the writings of Thomas Manton, Isaac Ambrose, Jeremy Taylor, Ralph Cudworth, Nathaniel Culverwell, John Owen, and others.

2. “Some Account of the Life and Death of Matthew Lee.” 12mo, 24 pages.

3. “Serious Thoughts concerning Godfathers and Godmothers.” 12mo, four pages. The tract was written at Athlone in Ireland, but was hardly worth publishing. Of course, Wesley approves of godfathers and godmothers; but acknowledges that baptism is valid without them.

4. “Predestination calmly Considered.” 12mo, 83 pages. We have already seen, that three of the preachers, present at the Irish conference, expressed their belief, that some persons are absolutely elected, but that thousands are saved who are not elected. It was also rumoured, that Charles Wesley inclined to Whitefield’s predestinarian views. Under such circumstances, Wesley’s “Predestination calmly Considered” was a needed and opportune production. He writes (page 6): “There are some who assert the decree of election, and not the decree of reprobation. They assert, that God hath, by a positive, unconditional decree, chosen some to life and salvation; but not that He hath, by any such decree, devoted the rest of mankind to destruction. These are they to whom I would address myself first.” This is one of Wesley’s most cogent and exhaustive pamphlets, written in a most loving spirit, and yet utterly demolishing the Calvinistic theory. He shows conclusively, that no man can consistently hold the doctrine of election without holding the cognate doctrine of reprobation,—a doctrine wholly opposed to the plainest teachings of holy Scripture, dishonouring to God, overthrowing the scriptural doctrines of a future judgment, and of rewards and punishments, and “naturally leading to the chambers of death.” It is difficult to conceive how any one can read Wesley’s treatise, and still remain a Calvinist. None of his Methodistic friends tried to answer it; but Dr. John Gill, the pastor of a Baptist church in Southwark, published, in the same year, the two following pamphlets:—“The Doctrine of the Saints’ Final Perseverance, asserted and vindicated. In answer to a late pamphlet, called Serious Thoughts on that subject.” 8vo, 59 pages. And, “The Doctrine of Predestination stated and set in the Scripture light; in opposition to Mr. Wesley’s Predestination Calmly Considered. With a reply to the exceptions of the said writer to the Doctrine of the Perseverance of the Saints.” 8vo, 52 pages. In the latter production, Dr. Gill says, that Wesley, in noticing his former one, had “contented himself with low, mean, and impertinent exceptions, not attempting to answer one argument, and yet having the assurance, in the public papers, to call this miserable piece of his, chiefly written on another subject, ‘A full answer to Dr. Gill’s pamphlet on Final Perseverance.’” This, on the part of Dr. Gill, was the wincing whine of a defeated man. It was not worthy of him. Dr. Gill was now fifty-five years of age, and a man of vast learning and research. Before his twentieth year, he had read all the Greek and Latin authors that had fallen in his way, and had so studied Hebrew as to be able to read the Old Testament in the original with pleasure. Besides other works, he was the author of “A Body of Divinity,” in three quarto volumes; and of “An Exposition of the Old and New Testament,” in nine volumes, folio. The university of Aberdeen had conferred upon him the degree of a doctor of divinity, “on account of his great knowledge of the Scriptures, of the oriental languages, and of Jewish antiquities, of his learned defence of the Scriptures against deists and infidels, and the reputation gained by his other works”; but, in terse, powerful, conclusive argument, John Gill was not a match for John Wesley. He was a man of excellent moral character; but he was an ultra Calvinist. He was a man of unwearied diligence, of laborious research, of vast learning; but his immense mass of valuable materials were comparatively useless, for he had neither talent to digest, nor skill to arrange them. We think it was Robert Hall who not inaptly described his voluminous productions as “a continent of mud.” He died in 1771.

5. Another of Wesley’s publications in 1752 was, “A Second Letter to the Author of ‘The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared.’” This was published in the month of January; and, at the same time, was issued, “A Third Letter to the Author of the Enthusiasm of Methodists,” etc. By Vincent Perronet, A.M.; price sixpence.”[178]

Lavington published the second part of his lampooning work in 1749;[179] and part third in 1751. Of Part II., Whitefield wrote, in a letter to Lady Huntingdon, dated August 24, 1749:—“I have seen the bishop’s second pamphlet, in which he serves the Methodists, as the Bishop of Constance served John Huss, when he ordered painted devils to be put round his head, before they burnt him. His preface to me is most virulent. Everything I wrote, in my answer, is turned into the vilest ridicule. I cannot see that it calls for any further answer from me. Mr. Wesley, I think, had best attack him now, as he is largely concerned in this second part.”[180]

Whitefield was not a match for an episcopal buffoon like Lavington; and hence he hands him over to his trenchant friend Wesley. The preface, of more than thirty pages, addressed to Whitefield, was full of banter; and in Part II., following it, he is treated with the same coarse rudeness. He and Wesley and the Methodist preachers in general are accused of assuming “the ostentation of sanctified looks,” “fantastical oddities,” “affectation of godly and Scripture phrases,” “and high pretensions to inspiration.” “Their great swelling words of vanity, and proud boastings, had been carried to a most immoderate and insufferable degree.” “They were either innocent madmen, or infamous cheats.” As for Whitefield, “no man ever so bedaubed himself with his own spittle. His first Account of God’s Dealings with him was such a boyish, ludicrous, filthy, nasty, and shameless relation of himself, as quite defiles paper, and is shocking to decency and modesty. It is a perfect jakes of uncleanness.” Wesley had “so fanaticised his own followers, and given them so many strong doses of the enthusiastic tincture, as to turn their brains and deprive them of their senses.” “The mountebank’s infallible prescriptions must be swallowed, whatever be the consequence, though they die for it.” The Methodists are charged with “the black art of calumny, with excessive pride and vanity, with scepticisms and disbeliefs of God and Christ, with disorderly practices, and inveterate broils among themselves, and with a coolness for good works, and an uncommon warmth for some that are very bad.” “In their several Answers and Defences, a strain of jesuitical sophistry, artifice and craft, evasion, reserve, equivocation, and prevarication, is of constant use.”

Lavington’s Part III., a volume in itself, is addressed “to the Reverend Mr. Wesley”; who is made the almost exclusive object of its virulent attack. He is told, that he is “an arrant joker, a perfect droll.” “Go on,” says the ribald bishop, “and build chapels. One may be dedicated to the god Proteus, famous for being a juggling wonder-monger, and turning himself into all shapes; another to the god called Catius, because he made men sly and cunning as cats. The people with whom you have to do, you know, will adore you; for the same reason that the Egyptians did their bull Apis; because renowned for miracles, and every hour changing its colour.” He adds: “your Letter to the author of Enthusiasm is a medley of chicanery, sophistry, prevarication, evasion, pertness, conceitedness, scurrility, sauciness, and effrontery. Paper and time should not be wasted on such stuff.” And this was all the answer his lordship furnished.

We are afraid to make our pages, what Lavington has made his book, “a perfect jakes of uncleanness,” by further quotations. Suffice it to say, that the whole of this scurrility was anonymous.

No wonder that Wesley, in his answer, speaks of his calumniator as “one that turns the most serious, the most awful, the most venerable things into mere farce, and matter of low buffoonery”; one who treats sacred topics with the “spirit of a merry-andrew.” He convicts him of the most flagrant falsehood, and says, “I charge you with gross, wilful prevarication, from the beginning of your book to the end”; and firmly, but respectfully, sustains the charge. He writes:—

“I have now considered all the arguments you have brought to prove, that the Methodists are carrying on the work of popery. And I am persuaded, every candid man, who rightly weighs what has been said, with any degree of attention, will clearly see, not only, that no one of those arguments is of any real force at all, but that you do not believe them yourself; you do not believe the conclusion which you pretend to prove; only you keep close to your laudable resolution of throwing as much dirt as possible.”

* * * * *

“These things being so, what must all unprejudiced men think of you and your performance? You have advanced a charge, not against one or two persons only, but indiscriminately against a whole body of people of his majesty’s subjects, Englishmen, Protestants, members, I suppose, of your own church; a charge containing abundance of articles, and most of them of the highest and blackest nature. You have prosecuted this with unparalleled bitterness of spirit, and acrimony of language; using sometimes the most coarse, rude, scurrilous terms; sometimes the keenest sarcasms you could devise. The point you have steadily pursued, in thus prosecuting this charge, is, first, to expose the whole people to the hatred and scorn of all mankind; and next, to stir up the civil powers against them. And when this charge comes to be fairly weighed, there is not a single article of it true! Most of the passages you have cited, you have palpably maimed, corrupted, and strained to a sense never thought of by the writer; they prove nothing less than the points in question; and many of them are flat against you, and overthrow the very point they are brought to support. Is not this the most shocking violation of the Christian rule, ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself’; the most open affront to all justice, and even common humanity; the most glaring insult upon the common sense and reason of mankind, which has lately appeared in the world?”

* * * * *

“You regard neither mercy, justice, nor truth. To vilify and blacken is your one point. I pray God it may not be laid to your charge! May He show you mercy, though you show none!

“I am, sir,

“Your friend and well wisher,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

What was the result? In the month of March, or April,[181] Lavington published a tract, with the title, “The Bishop of Exeter’s Answer to Mr. Wesley’s late Letter to his Lordship.” 8vo, 15 pages; in which he feebly struggles to get out of a flagrant falsehood, of which Wesley had convicted him; and, true to his old vituperative style of writing, concludes thus:—

“The remainder of your epistle, mere rant and declamation, shall give me no trouble. Having cleared up a matter of fact, which may be thought necessary for my own justification, I find myself under no obligation or disposition, to enter into matters of dispute, wherein our opinions would widely differ. I am too sensible of your way of answering, your temper, and of what spirit you are of, to think of any further correspondence: and if you expect, that I should let myself down to a level with you, you will find yourself mistaken. I pray God to give you a good will, and a right judgment in all things;

“And am, sir,

“Your obedient, humble servant,

“G. EXON.”

This was pitiful poltroonery, in perfect character with a cowardly calumniator, who had poured forth the most unfounded scandals, without daring to show his face or to sign his name. Wesley briefly replied, in a letter dated “Newcastle upon Tyne, May 8, 1752”; and so the matter ended.

Amid such hurricanes was Methodism cradled; and in the face of such opponents Wesley had to pursue his great, gospel mission. Who, after the specimens of Lavington’s scandalizing pen, is prepared to expect that the tablet, erected to his memory in Exeter cathedral, should represent him as one who “never ceased to improve his talents, nor to employ them to the noblest purposes”? The conclusion of this marvellous epitaph is as follows:—

“Unaffected sanctity dignified his instructions, And indulgent candour sweetened his government. At length, having eminently discharged his duties, Of a Man, a Christian, and a Prelate, Prepared, by habitual meditation, To resign life without regret, To meet death without terror, He expired with the praises of God upon his lips, In his 79th year, September 13, 1762.”[182]

1753.

[Sidenote: 1753 Age 50]

As usual, Wesley began the new year by preaching, in the Foundery, at four o’clock in the morning, when a large congregation met to praise the God of providence and grace with “joyful hearts and lips.” On the same day, his old friend Howel Harris wrote him a long letter, from which the following is an extract:—

“January 1, 1753.

“DEAR BROTHER JOHN WESLEY,— ... Shall I speak freely to you, as I am going to that dear Man, who has indeed honoured you, and whom I believe you wish to honour, for you live on His bloody sweat and passion? I wish your ministry and that of the Moravians were united. It would be for the public good. I have fought a good fight, and have, through millions of infirmities, kept the faith. You and your brother Charles have ever been dear to me; but I have often feared, that your wisdom and popularity would be injurious to you, and turn you from the true simplicity of the gospel. I send this, as my dying and loving request, for the Lord’s sake, for your own sake, and for the sake of thousands that attend your ministry, that you would direct their eye to the Saviour, and suffer them not to idolize you. Let nothing fall from your lip or pen, but what turns the soul from self to the Saviour. To deny ourselves is a difficult lesson, and there are but few that learn it. I have written some things, in the time of my confinement, which I have ordered the bearer to show you, and which you will perhaps correct and publish, if you have time, and think they would be of service to the cause of Christ. Hearty salutation to your brother Charles, and all who love Jesus Christ in sincerity. I have been laid aside from public service for some months. I am weary of nothing here but the body of sin in my flesh. I rejoice in you, and the large field that is before you. Though I know not how to give over, I must conclude.

“HOWEL HARRIS.”[183]

Whitefield spent the year in a glorious itinerancy throughout the kingdom. On the 1st of March, the first brick of his new Tabernacle was laid, on the site of his old wooden one, he having collected £1100 towards defraying the expense of its erection. He published several sermons, and also a small collection of hymns for public worship. “I and the Messrs. Wesley,” he writes, “are very friendly.” The Wesleys, during the erection of his Tabernacle, allowed him the use of their London chapels,—an act of courteous kindness which he gratefully acknowledges. In a three months’ summer tour, he travelled about twelve hundred miles, and preached a hundred and eighty times. In Grimshaw’s church, at Haworth, thirty-five bottles of wine were used at a single sacrament. The year throughout was a year of triumph and of joy,—with one exception, which we are bound in honesty to mention.

Moravianism was increasingly a bone of contention. Two years before, Zinzendorf had purchased, of Sir Hans Sloane, an old family mansion with adjoining grounds, situated on the banks of the Thames at Chelsea. The mansion was turned into a congregation house; a chapel was fitted up; a burial ground was laid out; and gardens, and a terrace, facing the Thames, were formed. The money expended was more than £11,000. In April, 1753, the whole establishment of the Unitas Fratrum removed into the newly acquired premises; and Lindsey House, Chelsea, was henceforth “the disciple house,”—the head quarters of the English Moravians. All bishops and elders were subordinate to Zinzendorf, who, under the name of “papa,” was exclusively the ruler of the church.

Meantime, an enormous debt had been incurred. Parliamentary negotiations, sending brethren and sisters to the American colonies, maintaining the preachers of country congregations, sustaining boarding schools, and meeting the large expenses of Lindsey House,—created pecuniary liabilities which the Unitas Fratrum found it difficult to meet. During the year 1749, and the first half of the year 1750, the managers of the “diaconies” had advanced £13,000, and clamoured for repayment. Zinzendorf tried to raise a loan of £30,000 for the English Moravians, from the nobility of Upper Lusatia; but his effort failed. A few of the London Brethren lent, from their own resources, nearly £15,000, which merely met present wants. Zinzendorf and others were in danger of arrest for debt. A crop of lawsuits sprung up. Thomas Hankey was a creditor to the amount of nearly £19,000; and the Moravian liabilities, ecclesiastical and trading, were altogether more than £130,000. Affairs appeared to be involved in inextricable confusion. Bankruptcy was imminent; disgrace was great. Peter Bohler, at the time, was the minister in London, and did his utmost to calm the troubled waters. Scandals of all kinds were rife; and even Bohler himself was not exempt from the general censure,—a fact which led him, in March, 1753, to refuse to join with the Brethren in the holy communion, and which probably had something to do with his leaving London for America in the month of June ensuing.[184]

In the midst of all this, a terrible onslaught was made upon the Moravians, and upon Zinzendorf in particular, by Henry Rimius, “Aulic Counsellor to his late majesty the King of Prussia,” in an octavo pamphlet of 177 pages, dedicated to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and entitled, “A Candid Narrative of the Rise and Progress of the Herrnhuthers, commonly called Moravians, or Unitas Fratrum.” In one place, he charges Zinzendorf with flagrant falsehood. He states, that in his book, “Natural Reflections,” the count asserts that “he had been examined by the Theological Faculty at Copenhagen.” Upon inquiry, this was found to be an absolute untruth, and had been positively contradicted by a public act of the said faculty, signed with their corporate seal.

Wesley read Rimius’s narrative as soon as it was published, and wrote: “It informed me of nothing new. I still think several of the inconsiderable members of that community are upright; but I fear their governors wax worse and worse, having their conscience seared as with a hot iron.”

Whitefield, in a letter dated March 21, 1753, observed:—“What is happening to the Moravians is no more than I have long expected, and spoken of to many friends. Their scheme is so antichristian in almost every respect, that I am amazed the eyes of the English Brethren have not long since been opened.”

Whitefield tried to open them. He published a pamphlet, entitled, “An Expostulatory Letter, addressed to Nicholas Lewis, Count Zinzendorf, and Lord Advocate of the Unitas Fratrum.” The letter, dated April 24, 1753, in whole or in part, was reprinted in the magazines and newspapers of that period, and produced a great sensation.

Zinzendorf and his friends are charged with “misguiding many honest hearted Christians; with distressing, if not ruining, numerous families; and with introducing a whole farrago of superstitions, not to say idolatrous fopperies, into the English nation.” The Unitas Fratrum are accused of “walking round the graves of their deceased friends on Easter day, attended with hautboys, trumpets, french horns, and violins.” Zinzendorf had suffered incense to be “burnt for him, in order to perfume the room before he made his entrance among the brethren”; and had allowed a picture to be exhibited in a lovefeast, “representing him handing a gentleman and lady up to the side of Jesus Christ.” It was alleged, that the married women were “ordered to wear blue knots; the single women, pink; those that were just marriageable, pink and white; widows that were past childbearing, white; and those that were not so, blue and white.” Hannah Nitschmann, the general eldress of the Fetter Lane congregation, wore “the episcopal knot,” and might be seen sitting at the head of a table, surrounded with eldresses and deaconesses, covered with artificial flowers, and bearing a small altar on which stood a cross composed of glittering stones, and environed with wax tapers. On Hannah’s birthday, the floor of one of the rooms in the house of the single brethren was covered with sand and moss, amid which a star was made of coloured pebbles. Upon the star was placed a gilded dove, spouting water from its mouth. The room was curiously decked with moss and shells; and here Zinzendorf, Hannah Nitschmann, Peter Bohler, and other labourers sat, in high dignity, beneath an alcove made of pasteboard. Upon a table was an altar covered with shells, and, on each side of the altar, a bloody heart emitting flames. The place was illuminated with wax candles; and musicians were fixed in an adjacent room, while Zinzendorf and his company performed their devotions, and regaled themselves with sweetmeats, coffee, tea, and wine.

Zinzendorf is said to be over head and ears in debt; and many of the English Brethren, by signing bonds for more than they had means to pay, had exposed themselves to bankruptcy and prison. Peter Bohler, to comfort one of the creditors, William Bell, had sent for him to his house in Neville’s Alley, Fetter Lane; where an artificial mountain had been erected in the hall, which, upon the singing of a particular verse, was made to fall flat down, and then behind it appeared a representation of Mr. Bell and the blessed Saviour embracing each other, while the clouds above were raining money most gloriously. Mr. Freeman and Mr. Grace had found bills drawn in their names, unknown to them, to the amount of £48,000; and Mr. Rhodes had been prevailed upon to sell his estate, of above £400 per annum, to meet the necessities of the Unitas Fratrum; and, to avoid further payments, for which he had made himself responsible by signing bonds, had fled to France, leaving behind him a destitute mother, who since had died.[185]

Such is the substance of Whitefield’s letter. What were its effects? Wesley writes:—

“July, 1753.—I found the town much alarmed with Mr. Rimius’s narrative, and Mr. Whitefield’s letter to Count Zinzendorf. It seems, indeed, that God is hastening to bring to light those hidden works of darkness. Mr. Whitefield showed me the letters he had lately received from the count, P. Bohler, and James Hutton. I was amazed. Either furious anger or settled contempt breathed in every one of them. Were they ashamed after all the abominations they had committed? No; they were not ashamed: they turned the tables upon Mr. Whitefield. The count blustered, like himself, and roundly averred, he could say something if he would. James Hutton said flat, ‘You have more than diabolical impudence; I believe the devil himself has not so much.’”

Wesley has not recorded the sentiments of his old friend Peter Bohler; but Whitefield states, that Bohler availed himself of the pulpit to declare, that his letter “was all a lie.”[186] It so happens, however, that, since then, the letters of the count, of Bohler, and of Hutton have been published. Zinzendorf says: “As yet, I owe not a farthing of the £40,000 you are pleased to tell me of;” and concludes thus: “As your heart is not prepared to love me, nor your understanding to listen to my reasons” (which he declines to give) “I wish you well, sir, and am your loving friend, LOUIS.”

Peter Bohler, in his letter of May 4, begins: “Sir, I pity you very much, that you suffer yourself to be so much imposed upon, and to print your impositions so inconsiderately. You have now attempted a second time to ruin my character.” He then denies, that he was the inventor of the artificial mount, but does not affirm that it was not employed. He concludes as follows: “Dear Mr. Whitefield, when the secret intentions of man, together with all his unjust deeds, will be judged, how glad would you be then, not to have treated our society in general, and, in particular, that venerable person against whom your letter is chiefly levelled, and poor I, in so injurious, yea, I may say, impudent and wicked a manner. PETER BOHLER.”

Hutton’s letter eulogizes the count in the highest terms. “When he awakes in the morning, he is all sweetness, calmness, tender harmoniousness with those about him; and, all the day long, he is busied in doing and contriving the kindest offices for mankind.” He is “usefully employed constantly eighteen hours in twenty-four, and very frequently more; and is a man of no expense at all upon his person, so that any one receiving £50 a year to find him in all necessaries, to his satisfaction, would certainly be no loser by the bargain.” And yet, “many bulls of Bashan round about, as brute beasts without understanding, roared madly against him; and, by daubings and grotesque paintings, described him as a Mahommed, a Cæsar, an impostor, a Don Quixote, a devil, the beast, the man of sin, the whore, the antichrist.”

It is right to add, that Thomas Rhodes, whose case Whitefield had quoted, says, in a letter dated October 21, 1733: “what Mr. Whitefield has written concerning the United Brethren and me, is, the greatest part, entire falsities, and the remainder are truths set in a false light.” He admits, however, the sale of his estate.

Far from pleasant is the task of raking into dunghills such as this; but history cannot afford to forget unpleasant facts. Whitefield’s letter, perhaps, was obtrusive, and officious, and, to some extent, incorrect; but there can be no doubt, that its leading allegations were founded upon truth.

Happily for himself, Wesley was not an actor in this humbling fracas; and yet, before the year was ended, he was involved within its meshes. In October, he spent four days at Bedford, where a Moravian congregation had been founded in 1744, and where, in 1747, “the chief labourer” startled some of the Brethren by announcing: “My brethren, we have received new orders. In London, Yorkshire, and all other places, no person is to go out of the town without the leave of the chief labourer. So it must be here. Observe, no one must go out of town, no not a mile, without leave from me.” In 1750, they built a chapel; squabbles followed; and Wesley, apparently by request, went, at the time above stated, to visit them. He writes: “I met the little society, just escaped with the skin of their teeth. From the account which each of these gave, it appeared clear to a demonstration—(1) That their elders usurped a more absolute authority over the conscience, than the Bishop of Rome himself does. (2) That, to gain and secure this, they used a continued train of guile, fraud, and falsehood of every kind. (3) That they scrape their votaries to the bone as to their worldly substance, leaving little to any, to some nothing, or less than nothing. (4) That still they are so infatuated as to believe, that theirs is the only true church upon earth.”

But leaving the Moravians, let us track Wesley’s footsteps during the year 1753.

The first two months were spent in London. He visited “the Marshalsea prison, a nursery of all manner of wickedness.” “O shame to man,” he writes, “that there should be such a picture of hell upon earth! And shame to those who bear the name of Christ, that there should need any prison at all in Christendom.”

He visited many of the sick and poor, and writes: “Who could see such scenes unmoved? There are none such in a pagan country. If any of the Indians in Georgia were sick, those that were near them gave them whatever they wanted. Oh who will convert the English into honest heathen? I found some in their cells underground; others in their garrets, half starved both with cold and hunger; but I found not one of them unemployed, who was able to crawl about the room. So wickedly, devilishly false is that common objection, ‘They are poor, only because they are idle.’ If you saw these things with your own eyes, could you lay out money in ornaments and superfluities?”

Just at this juncture, Wesley began to turn his attention to a subject, which afterwards became one of the greatest discoveries of the age.

A year previous to this, Benjamin Franklin had established the important fact of the identity of lightning and the electric fluid. From time to time, he had sent accounts of his experiments to the Royal Society of England; but the communications were not admitted into the printed transactions of that learned body. They were given, however, to Mr. Cave, the editor of the Gentleman’s Magazine, who had sense enough to see their superlative importance, and who published them in a pamphlet, with a preface written by Dr. Fothergill. By additions subsequently made, the pamphlet grew into a quarto volume; was translated into French, German, and Latin; and attracted the attention of all the philosophers in Europe. The result was, that even the Royal Society began to reconsider the very experiments which they had treated with ridicule; and admitted Franklin, in 1753, into their honourable corporation, bestowing upon him the Copley medal, and all without solicitation, and without the payment of the customary fees.

With his characteristic keenness, Wesley laid hold of Franklin’s facts as soon as they were published. They were new and startling; but he saw, that they were most momentous, and evidently entertained the hope, that they would be turned to practical account, in a way which would excite the amazement and gratitude of the human race. Hear what he says:—

“1753, February 17.—From Dr. Franklin’s letters, I learned,—1. That electrical fire is a species of fire, infinitely finer than any other yet known. 2. That it is diffused, and in nearly equal proportions, through almost all substances. 3. That, as long as it is thus diffused, it has no discernible effect. 4. That, if any quantity of it be collected together, whether by art or nature, it then becomes visible in the form of fire, and inexpressibly powerful. 5. That it is essentially different from the light of the sun; for it pervades a thousand bodies which light cannot penetrate, and yet cannot penetrate glass, which light pervades so freely. 6. That lightning is no other than electrical fire, collected by one or more clouds. 7. That all the effects of lightning may be performed by the artificial electric fire. 8. That anything pointed, as a spire or tree, attracts the lightning, just as a needle does the electrical fire. 9. That the electrical fire, discharged on a rat or fowl, will kill it instantly; but discharged on one dipped in water, it will slide off, and do it no hurt at all. In like manner, the lightning, which will kill a man in a moment, will not hurt him, if he be thoroughly wet. What an amazing scene is here opened, for after ages to improve upon!”

Wesley’s concluding sentence is remarkable; but even he had no idea that, in little more than a hundred years, electric fire would become the means of sending, almost instantaneously, its wondrous messages from England to India, and from shore to shore of the great Atlantic Ocean. Wesley, however, was one of the first to take an interest in the science of electricity. Six years before this, in 1747, he wrote: “I went to see what are called the electrical experiments. How must these also confound those poor half thinkers, who will believe nothing but what they can comprehend! Who can comprehend how fire lives in water, and passes through it more freely than through the air? How flame issues out of my finger,—real flame, such as sets fire to spirits of wine? How these, and many more as strange phenomena, arise from the turning round of a glass globe? It is all mystery; if haply, by any means, God may hide pride from man!” In 1756, he began to turn the discovery to practical account. Having procured an apparatus, he commenced electrifying persons for various disorders, and soon found his patients so numerous, that an hour every day had to be devoted to trying “the virtue of this surprising medicine.” Moorfields, Southwark, St. Paul’s, and the Seven Dials were the places of rendezvous; and here thousands resorted to avail themselves of Wesley’s remedy. He writes: “Hundreds, perhaps thousands, have received unspeakable good; and I have not known one man, woman, or child, who has received any hurt thereby; so that, when I hear any talk of the danger of being electrified (especially if they are medical men who talk so), I cannot but impute it to great want either of sense or honesty.” “We know it is a thousand medicines in one; in particular, that it is the most efficacious medicine in nervous disorders of every kind, which has ever yet been discovered.”

On February 26, Wesley left London for Bristol, reading on the road Mr. Prince’s “Christian History,” concerning which he makes the following remarks:—

“What an amazing difference is there in the manner wherein God has carried on His work in England and in America! There, above a hundred of the established clergy, men of age and experience, and of the greatest note for sense and learning in those parts, are zealously engaged in the work. Here, almost the whole body of the aged, experienced, learned clergy, are zealously engaged against it; and few, but a handful of raw young men, engaged in it, without name, learning, or eminent sense. And yet, by that large number of honourable men, the work seldom flourished above six months at a time, and then followed a lamentable and general decay, before the next revival of it; whereas, that which God hath wrought, by these despised instruments, has continually increased for fifteen years together; and, at whatever time it has declined in any one place, has more eminently flourished in others.”

In the same month, Wesley wrote concerning these “raw young men,” as follows:—

“LONDON, February 6, 1753.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—It is a constant rule with us, that no preacher should preach above twice a day, unless on Sunday or some extraordinary time; and then he may preach three times. We know nature cannot long bear the preaching oftener than this, and, therefore, to do it is a degree of self murder. Those of the preachers, who would not follow this advice, have all repented when it was too late.

“I likewise advise all our preachers not to preach above an hour at a time, prayer and all; and not to speak louder than the number of hearers require.

“You will show this to all our preachers, and any that desire it may take a copy of it.

“I am your affectionate brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[187]

Such was Wesley’s advice; his example, however, was often widely different.

On March 19, Wesley and his wife set out from Bristol for the north of England.

At Evesham, he preached in the town hall, where most of the congregation were still and attentive, excepting some at the lower end, who, he says, “were walking to and fro, laughing and talking, as if they had been in Westminster Abbey.”

At Birmingham, he talked with Sarah B——, one of six wild enthusiasts, who had disturbed the society, and, by their antinomian blasphemy, shown themselves fit for Bedlam.

At Nantwich, he was “saluted with curses and hard names;” and soon afterwards, the mob pulled down the chapel.[188]

At Davyhulme, he found, what he had never heard of in England, a clan of infidel peasants. He writes: “a neighbouring alehouse keeper drinks, and laughs, and argues into deism all the ploughmen and dairymen he can light on. But no mob rises against him; and reason good: Satan is not divided against himself.”

In the Manchester society, he found seventeen dragoons, who had been in the same regiment with John Haime in Flanders; but they utterly despised both John and his Master till they came to Manchester, where they were “now a pattern of seriousness, zeal, and all holy conversation.”

At Chipping, when he was about to go into the pulpit of his friend, the Rev. Mr. Milner, a man thrust himself before him, and said, “You shall not go into the pulpit;” and by main strength pushed him back. Eight or ten noisy men joined the belligerent, and Wesley thought it best to desire Mr. Milner to read the prayers himself.

At Kendal, he preached in the chapel used by Benjamin Ingham’s society; but was disgusted at the people coming in and sitting down, without any pretence to any previous prayer. They let him sing the first hymn solely by himself; but God spake to them in His word, and in the singing of the hymn after the sermon most of them united; while the greatest part of them followed him to his inn, and conversed with him till he went to bed.

He now made his way to Scotland. Dumfries had two of the most elegant churches he had ever seen. Glasgow he took to be as large as Newcastle. The students of the university wore scarlet gowns, reaching only to their knees, very dirty, very ragged, and of very coarse materials. Here he was the guest of the Rev. John Gillies, the minister of the College kirk, at whose invitation he had come. Mr. Gillies was now preparing his Historical Collections, which, in the year following, he published, in two large octavo volumes. Wesley spent nearly a week with this devout and distinguished man. He assisted him in his “Collections,” preached in his kirk, and seems to have been the means of introducing a novelty in the public worship of the Scots—the singing of hymns as well as doggerel versions of the Book of Psalms. At all events, on the first day of his visit, he observes: “After the sermon, Mr. Gillies concluded with the blessing. He then gave out, one after another, four hymns, which about a dozen young men sung. He had before desired those who were so minded to go away; but scarce any stirred till all was ended.” This, however, was a serious innovation, and soon after Wesley left, Mr. Gillies wrote to him as follows: “The singing of hymns here meets with greater opposition than I expected. Serious people are much divided. Those of better understanding and education are silent; but many others are so prejudiced, that they speak openly against it, and look upon me as doing a very sinful thing. I beg your advice, whether to answer them only by continuing in the practice of the thing, or whether I should also publish a sheet of arguments from reason, and Scripture, and the example of the godly. Your experience of dealing with people’s prejudice, makes your advice of the greater importance. I bless the Lord for the benefit and comfort of your acquaintance; for your important assistance in my Historical Collections; and for your edifying conversation and sermons in Glasgow.”[189]

The friendship thus commenced with Mr. Gillies was continued for many years. Both Wesley and Grimshaw rendered great assistance to Gillies in his valuable book on revivals, and were consulted as to the time of its being published. Mr. Gillies was an eminently devout and pious man and minister, but was living without the evidence of his adoption into the family of God. Hence the following to Wesley, under the date of September 5, 1753.

“O when shall I get that Divine elenchos you mention, in my own soul! The other day I fasted and prayed all day in the fields; but a body of death still cleaves to me. I fear I have not yet the gift of the Holy Ghost. I know not what to do. I sometimes think I should be happy to be in some wilderness in America; to forget and be forgotten; to have none but God to converse with; digging for my daily bread. But is not this desire of solitude a vain thought, unless I could fly from my own vile and wretched self? O that the Lord would show me what it is that separates my soul from Him, that it might be destroyed, and, that I might know, He is my God in Christ! This, this is all I want. Dear Mr. Wesley, continue to pray for your most unworthy, but affectionate brother and servant,

“JOHN GILLIES.”[190]

Such was the religious experience of the author of the “Historical Collections of the Success of the Gospel,” at the very time when that important book was being published.

On leaving Glasgow, Wesley proceeded direct to Newcastle, preaching on the way at Berwick and at Alnwick. He reached the latter town on April 25, the day on which those who had finished their apprenticeship, during the previous year, were made free of the corporation. This was done by the young fellows having to walk through a bog, purposely preserved for the occasion, and which took many of them up to the breast, and even to the neck in passing. Sixteen or seventeen, during Wesley’s visit, thus waded their way to Alnwick dignity through Alnwick dirt. The Alnwick society had been split asunder by presbyterians, of whom good Jeannie Keith was one. Wesley writes: “a few violent presbyterians had, at length, separated themselves from us. It was well they saved me the trouble; for I can have no connection with those who will be contentious. These I reject, not for their opinion, but for their sin; for their unchristian temper and unchristian practice; for being haters of reproof, haters of peace, haters of their brethren, and consequently of God.”

While at Newcastle, Wesley presided at the first general quarterly meeting of Methodist stewards that was held in the north of England. He also preached in a chapel recently erected at Gateshead Fell, the second chapel built for the Methodists in the neighbourhood of Newcastle.

Wesley left Newcastle on the 7th of May, and, after preaching at Durham, Stockton, and Robin Hood’s Bay, came, two days afterwards, to York, where he met with a rough salute, and preached in a room “hot as an oven.”

On May 22, he met his conference at Leeds, there being present, besides himself, two clergymen, Grimshaw and Milner; twenty-five itinerant, and sixteen local preachers.

It was determined that, in future, the conferences should be held at London, Bristol, and Leeds, by turns. As a testimony against the corruptions of the Moravians, it was suggested, that it might be proper to reprint Wesley’s “Letter to the Church at Herrnhuth,” with some additions, and a dedication to the count. It was resolved to behave towards Mr. Ingham with all tenderness and love, and to unite with him when he returned to the old Methodist doctrine. The predestinarian preachers having done much hurt to the societies, it was agreed—“(1) That none of them should preach any more in our societies. (2) That a loving and respectful letter should be written to Mr. Whitefield, desiring him to advise his preachers, not to reflect (as they had done continually, and that both with great bitterness and rudeness) either upon the doctrines, discipline, or person of Mr. Wesley, among his own societies; to abstain himself (at least when he was among Mr. Wesley’s people) from speaking against either his doctrines, rules, or preachers; and not to declare war anew, as he had done by a needless digression in his late sermon.”

In accordance with this resolution, Wesley addressed to Whitefield the following letter, which, up to the present, has been unpublished:—

“May, 1753.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Between forty and fifty of our preachers lately met at Leeds, all of whom, I trust, esteem you in love for your work’s sake. I was desired by them to mention a few particulars to you, in order to a still firmer union between us.

“Several of them had been grieved at your mentioning, among our people (in private conversation, if not in public preaching), some of those opinions which we do not believe to be true;—such as ‘a man may be justified and not know it;’ that, ‘there is no possibility of falling away from grace;’ and that, ‘there is no perfection in this life.’ They conceived, that this was not doing as you would be done to, and that it tended to create not peace but confusion.

“They were likewise concerned at your sometimes speaking lightly of the discipline received among us, of societies, classes, bands, and of our rules in general, of some of them in particular. This they apprehended to be neither kind nor just, nor consistent with the profession which you at other times make.

“Above all, they had been troubled at the manner wherein your preachers (so I call those who preach at the Tabernacle) had very frequently spoken of my brother and me, partly in the most scoffing and contemptuous manner, relating a hundred shocking stories as unquestionable facts, and propagating them with diligence, and with an air of triumph, wherever they came.

“These things I was desired by all our brethren to mention. Two or three of them, afterwards, desired me, in private, to mention further, that when you were in the north your conversation was not so useful as was expected; that it generally turned not upon the things of God, but on trifles and things indifferent,—that your whole carriage was not so serious as they could have desired, being often mixed with needless laughter,—and that those who scrupled any levity of behaviour, and endeavoured always to speak and act as seeing God, you rather weakened than strengthened, intimating that they were in bondage, or weak in faith.

“I am persuaded you will receive these short lines in the same love wherein I write them. That you may prosper more and more, both in your soul and in your labours, is the hearty desire of, my dear brother,

“Your affectionate fellow labourer,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

This is a fine specimen of brotherly fidelity. Whitefield was misrepresented. Wesley has endorsed his copy of this manuscript letter with the words, “He denies all;” and this is partially confirmed by the following extract from a letter written some time before, and addressed to Mr. M——.

“LONDON, March 10, 1753.

“MY DEAR MR. M——,—I have preached at Spitalfields chapel twice. Both the Mr. Wesleys are agreed. Let brotherly love continue! I do not like writing against anybody, but I think that wisdom, which dwells with prudence, should direct you not to fill Mr. Wesley’s people (who expect you will serve them) with needless jealousies. I hope to see the time, when you will talk less of persons and things, and more of Him who is the common head of His whole mystical body. This, and this alone, can make and keep you steady in yourself, and extensively useful to others. I am glad you know when persons are justified. It is a lesson I have not yet learnt. There are so many stony ground hearers, that receive the word with joy, that I have determined to suspend my judgment till I know the tree by its fruits.

“I am, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[191]

At the same conference of 1753, it was asked, “Does every one know the exact time when he was justified?” Answer: “It is possible he may not know what to call it, when he experiences this; especially if he has not been accustomed to hear the scriptural doctrine concerning it. And the change then wrought in some may not be so sudden, or so observable, as it is in others. But, generally, wherever the gospel is preached in a clear and scriptural manner, more than ninety-nine in a hundred do know the exact time when they are justified.”

It was agreed, that they had not preached concerning both inward and outward holiness so strongly and closely as they ought. Many of the Methodists having lately married with unbelievers, it was resolved, that those who did this in future should be expelled from the society; and, that it should be a general rule, that no Methodist should marry without consulting the most serious of his brethren. It was ascertained, that sabbath breaking, dram drinking, evil speaking, unprofitable conversation, lightness, and contracting debts without sufficient care to discharge them, extensively prevailed; and it was determined, that none, who hereafter were guilty of such things, would be permitted to remain members of the society. Some of the married preachers were suffering great hardships, through no provision being made for the sustenance of their wives; and it was agreed that, in future, preachers ought to be careful in marrying “hand over head”; that they ought first to consult their brethren; and that, if they neglected this, they must not take it amiss if left to provide for themselves and their wives in the best way they could; and that, if they did consult with their brethren first, and still married wives without anything, they must be content to return to their temporal business, and again become local preachers. The circuits were twelve in number, namely—London, Bristol, Devonshire, Cornwall, Staffordshire, Cheshire, Leeds, Haworth, Lincolnshire, Newcastle, Wales, and Ireland; and the preachers appointed to supply them, including the two Wesleys, were thirty-nine.[192]

The conference being ended, Wesley proceeded to Birstal, Haworth, Keighley, Heptonstall, and Todmorden; preaching, in three days, ten or eleven sermons, and meeting the societies, till his voice began to fail, though at Birstal it had been sufficiently powerful, and so exerted, that those who sat in John Nelson’s windows, at a distance of a hundred yards, heard every word he uttered. Writing to his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell, on May 28, he says: “The harvest has not been so plenteous for many years as it is now, in all the north of England; but the labourers are few. I wish you could persuade our friend” [probably his brother] “to share the labour with me. One of us should, in anywise, visit both the north and Ireland every year. But I cannot do both; the time will not suffice, otherwise I would not spare myself. I hope my life, rather than my tongue, says, I desire only to spend and be spent in the work.”[193]

On his way to London, Wesley paid his first visit to the town of Leicester. He writes: “June 10, Whit-Sunday:—After dinner, a gentleman who came from Leicester, eight miles off,” [Markfield] “invited me thither. About eight I preached there, in a place near the walls, called the Butt-close. The people came running together from all parts, high and low, rich and poor; and their behaviour surprised me; they were so serious and attentive, not one offering any interruption.”

Soon after this, a society was gathered, and was placed under the care of John Brandon, a dragoon, who subsequently became one of Wesley’s itinerant preachers; and an old thatched building, in Milstone Lane, which had been successively used as a tithe barn, a theatre, a riding school, and a coal depot, was now turned into a Methodist chapel.

Wesley reached London, after a four months’ absence, on the 12th of June. A month later, he started for the Isle of Wight, where one of his preachers had been already labouring.[194] Calling at Portsmouth, he writes: “I was surprised to find so little fruit here, after so much preaching. That accursed itch of disputing had well-nigh destroyed all the seed which had been sown. And this ‘vain jangling’ they called ‘contending for the faith.’ I doubt the whole faith of these poor wretches is but an opinion.”

The society here mentioned was not Wesley’s, but one belonging to the preachers of the Countess of Huntingdon. Immediately after this visit, however, a small class was formed by Wesley’s itinerants, one of the members of which was John Mason, an orphan child now approaching manhood, and who, in 1764, became an itinerant preacher, and died in peace in 1810.

Leaving Portsmouth, Wesley, after a three hours’ voyage, landed at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight; which he says “as far exceeds the Isle of Anglesey, both in pleasantness and fruitfulness, as that exceeds the rocks of Scilly.” He rode straight to Newport, where he “found a little society in tolerable order.” He preached in the market-place to a large but noisy congregation. He walked to Carisbrook castle, and tells of the deep well, from which water was then drawn by an ass sixty years old.

Newport was the only place in the island at which Wesley preached. On July 12, he started thence for Cornwall. On reaching Bristol, he performed a service worth mentioning. At the end of May, hundreds of colliers, on account of the dearness of corn, had risen in riot; had smashed the windows of the council house; and forcibly boarded a vessel laden with grain for exportation. They had pelted the constables and city guards with stones, and committed other outrages, when a troop of the Scots Greys arrived, who killed four of the rioters, and took thirty prisoners.[195] At Wesley’s coming, they were still in gaol; and he writes: “July 17.—At their earnest desire, I preached to the poor colliers confined in Newgate on account of the late riot. They would not hear the gospel while they were at liberty. God grant they may profit by it now!”

He spent three weeks in Cornwall; met the stewards; examined the societies; and told the Methodists of St. Ives, that they must cease smuggling, or he would not visit them again. Here he was seized with illness,—a flux, a continual headache, violent and frequent vomitings, and cramp in his feet and legs. By this he was made a prisoner for a week, when he recommenced preaching, and, on August 21, got back to Bristol.

Kingswood school, as usual, required attention. He writes: “Surely the importance of this design is apparent, even from the difficulties that attend it. I have spent more money, and time, and care, on this, than almost any design I ever had; and still it exercises all the patience I have. But it is worth all the labour.”

On September 3, he “began visiting the little societies in Somersetshire and Wiltshire;” and, at Paulton, had an encounter with Stephen Plummer, a quondam Methodist, but now an insane Quaker. Wesley preached, and, as soon as he had done, Stephen began an outpouring. Wesley listened for half an hour; but, finding that his old acquaintance was no nearer the end of his discourse, he rose up to leave. Stephen’s “sister then begged him to suspend his oration; on which he flew into a violent rage, and roared louder and louder, till an honest man took him in his arms, and gently removed him.” Wesley adds: “What a wise providence was it, that this poor young man turned Quaker some years before he ran mad! So the honour of turning his brain now rests upon them, which otherwise must have fallen upon the Methodists.”

Taking the Isle of Wight on his way, Wesley arrived in London, on October 9.

Almost for the first time, an estrangement now sprang up between Wesley and his brother. Their friendship, hitherto, had been of the most tender and confidential kind; but, for some reason, Charles began to be reserved, and, to some extent, restive. He was a married man, and had a happy home; and children were being born, whose claims were scarcely compatible with the domestic absences occasioned by his itinerant life. Added to this, Wesley’s wife was perpetually brewing mischief. Towards Charles and his “dear Sally,” she entertained and cherished feelings of strong aversion, which she was seldom backward to express. All this may help to explain the following extracts from two letters, from Wesley to his brother, and dated respectively October 20, and October 31.

“I came back from Bedford last night. I know not whether it was your will or no (I believe not), but I am sure it was God’s will for you, to call there. How do you judge whether a thing be God’s will or no? I hope not by inward impressions. Let us walk warily. I have much constitutional enthusiasm; and you have much more. I give you a dilemma. Take one side or the other. Either act readily in connection with me, or never pretend it. Rather disclaim it; and openly avow you do and will not. By acting in connection with me, I mean, take counsel with me once or twice a year as to the places where you will labour. Hear my advice before you fix whether you take it or no. At present you are so far from this, that I do not even know when and where you intend to go. So far are you from following any advice of mine; nay, even from asking it. And yet I may say, without vanity, that I am a better judge of this matter than either Lady Huntingdon, Sally, Jones, or any other: nay than your own heart, that is, will. You told William Briggs, that you never declined going to any place because my wife was there. I am glad of it. If so, I have hope we may sometime spend a little time together. Why do you omit giving the sacrament in Kingswood? What is reading prayers at Bristol, in comparison of this? I am sure, in making this vehement alteration, you never consulted me.

“My love to my sister. Adieu!”[196]

His brother was not the only one, among his friends, that gave Wesley trouble. Hence the following extracts from two other letters.

“You give five reasons why the Rev. Mr. P—— will come no more among us:—1. ‘Because we despise the ministers of the Church of England.’ This I flatly deny; I am answering letters this very post, which bitterly blame me for just the contrary. 2. ‘Because so much backbiting is suffered amongst our people.’ It is not suffered: all possible means are used, both to prevent and remove it. 3. ‘Because I, who have written so much against hoarding up money, have put out £700 to interest.’ I never put sixpence out to interest since I was born; nor had I ever £100 together, my own, since I came into the world. 4. ‘Because our lay preachers have told many stories of my brother and me.’ If they did, I am sorry for them: when I hear the particulars, I can answer, and perhaps make those ashamed who believed them. 5. ‘Because we did not help a friend in distress.’ We did help him as far as we were able. You conclude with praying, that ‘God would remove pride and malice from amongst us.’ Of pride I have too much; of malice I have none: however, the prayer is good, and I thank you for it.”

In the other letter, Wesley writes:—

“Some time since, I was considering what you said, concerning the want of a plan in our societies. There is a good deal of truth in this remark. Though we have a plan, as to our spiritual economy, it is certain, we have barely the first outlines of a plan with regard to our temporal concerns. The reason is, I had no design for several years, to concern myself with temporals at all; and when I began to do this, it was solely with a view to relieve, not to employ, the poor; except now and then, with respect to a small number; and even this I found was too great a burden for me, as requiring more money, more time, and more thought, than I could possibly spare. I say, than I could possibly spare; for the whole weight lay on me. If I left it to others, it surely came to nothing. They wanted either understanding, or industry, or love, or patience, to bring anything to perfection.

“With regard to myself, you do well to warn me against ‘popularity, a thirst of power, and of applause; against envy, producing a seeming contempt for the conveniences or grandeur of this life; against an affected humility; against sparing from myself to give to others, from no other motive than ostentation.’ I am not conscious to myself, that this is my case. However, the warning is always friendly; and it is always seasonable, considering how deceitful my heart is, and how many the enemies that surround me.”[197]

For months Wesley’s health had been feeble and failing. On November 12, he preached at Leigh, in Essex, where he caught cold. On his return to London, two days after, he “had a settled pain in his left breast, a violent cough, and a slow fever.” At this period, Dr. John Fothergill, a Quaker, and the son of Yorkshire Quakers, was the most popular of all the metropolitan physicians, and, soon afterwards, attained a practice the profits of which amounted to £7000 a year. Like many of his sect, he had a dash of extravagant eccentricity in his mental constitution; but his heart was benevolent and good. While at Edinburgh, he gave great offence by walking up the High Street, naked to the waist, denouncing God’s vengeance on the inhabitants of auld Reekie; but, excepting occasional aberrations of this description, his habits were singularly temperate and discreet; and to him Methodism owes an incalculable debt, for, under God, he saved the life of Methodism’s founder in 1753. Wesley writes: “Dr. Fothergill told me plain, I must not stay in town a day longer; adding, ‘If anything does thee good, it must be the country air, with rest, asses’ milk, and riding daily.’”

Accordingly, Wesley was, at once, removed to the country house of his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell, at Lewisham, where he was kindly tended for the next five weeks. On the evening of his arrival, he wrote his epitaph. “Not knowing,” he remarks, “how it might please God to dispose of me, to prevent vile panegyric, I wrote as follows.”

Here lieth the Body of JOHN WESLEY, A Brand plucked out of the burning; Who died of a Consumption in the Fifty-first Year of his Age, not leaving, after his Debts are paid, Ten Pounds behind him: Praying, God be merciful to me, an unprofitable Servant! He ordered, that this, if any, inscription should be placed on his tombstone.

The news of Wesley’s dangerous illness, caused deep and wide spread sympathy. Charles Wesley hurried up from Bristol, and though, he says, he found his brother considerably better, he was “still in imminent danger, being far gone, and very suddenly, in a consumption.” Charles fell on his neck and wept. Wesley requested his wife and his brother to forget their past differences, and to be reconciled to each other. They readily agreed to this; and, for a time, confidence seemed to be restored between Wesley and his brother, and friendship, or something like it, appeared to be created between Charles and Wesley’s wife. Charles preached at the Foundery on the power of prayer, and declared it to be his opinion, that, if the life of his brother was prolonged, it would be in answer to the prayer of faith. Whitefield was penetrated with the profoundest sorrow. He was in the west of England at the time, and wrote as follows to his old and faithful friend.

“BRISTOL, December 3, 1753.

“REV. AND VERY DEAR SIR,—If seeing you so weak when leaving London distressed me, the news and prospect of your approaching dissolution have quite weighed me down. I pity myself and the church, but not you. A radiant throne awaits you, and ere long you will enter into your Master’s joy. Yonder He stands with a massy crown, ready to put it on your head amidst an admiring throng of saints and angels; but I, poor I, that have been waiting for my dissolution these nineteen years, must be left behind. Well! this is my comfort, it cannot be long ere the chariots will be sent even for worthless me. If prayers can detain them, even you, reverend and very dear sir, shall not leave us yet: but if the decree is gone forth, that you must now fall asleep in Jesus, may He kiss your soul away, and give you to die in the embraces of triumphant love! If in the land of the dying, I hope to pay my last respects to you next week. If not, reverend and very dear sir, F-a-r-e-w-e-l-l! Præ sequar, etsi non passibus æquis. My heart is too big; tears trickle down too fast; and you, I fear, are too weak for me to enlarge. Underneath you may there be Christ’s everlasting arms! I commend you to His never failing mercy, and am, reverend and very dear sir, your most affectionate, sympathising, and afflicted younger brother, in the gospel of our common Lord,

“G. WHITEFIELD.”[198]

This is beautiful. Differences of opinion had not been few between Whitefield, and his now, as he thought, dying friend. Only a few months previous to this, Wesley, at the request of his conference, had written him a letter painfully faithful; but the two friends knew and loved each other far too well for the least leaven of unkindly feeling to find a lodgment in the heart of either. Whitefield’s grief was on his own account and that of the church apparently about to be bereaved; on Wesley’s account, he was full of joy, and wished to exchange places with him. On the same day as the above was written, he addressed another friend as follows:—“The physicians think Mr. John Wesley’s disease is a galloping consumption. I pity the church, I pity myself, but not him. We must stay behind in this cold climate, whilst he takes his flight to a radiant throne. Lord, if it be Thy blessed will, let not Thy chariot wheels be long in coming. Even so, come Lord Jesus, come quickly! Poor Mr. Charles will now have double work.”[199]

Leaving Wesley and his friends in the midst of this deep sorrow, we conclude the present chapter with the customary review of Wesley’s publications, during the year 1753. Before proceeding to do this, however, there is one affair, which was arranged in 1753, in reference to Wesley’s book concern, which must not be overlooked. In his Journal, on February 8, 1753, Wesley wrote:—“A proposal was made for devolving all temporal business, books and all, entirely on the stewards; so that I might have no care upon me (in London at least) but that of the souls committed to my charge. O when shall it once be! From this day? In me mora non erit ulla.”

Wesley, apparently, was incredulous, and yet this proposal, to a great extent at least, was carried out. We have now before us a printed folio circular, with the autograph signatures of T. Butts and W. Briggs, which must have attention. The first four paragraphs contain nothing but Christian sentiment, and, for want of space, are here omitted. The rest of the circular is as follows.

“LONDON, FOUNDERY, April 20, 1753.

“To the Stewards at [Manchester].[200]

“BELOVED BRETHREN IN CHRIST,—Our minister, Mr. John Wesley, for good cause, and upon mature consideration, has entrusted the management of his books to the stewards of this society, and to us in particular whose names are hereunto subscribed. He has, by a proper power of attorney, invested in us the whole care of printing, publishing, and dispersing them; and has likewise given us full authority to receive all their produce, and settle all accounts with booksellers or others, who are entrusted with the sale of them.

“Having undertaken this great concern, we are obliged, for our own security, and in order to prevent, if possible, all further inconveniences to our ministers, to use our utmost diligence, that, for the future, the book accounts in the country societies be kept with great exactness, and returns made with greater regularity than in times past. And, after seriously weighing various methods, we have come to this agreement,—to beg the stewards of each society, in the country, to take upon themselves the care of the book accounts; and we do hereby beseech you, dear brethren, for the love of Christ and His ministers, that you would be pleased to take upon yourselves the care of this article, and to observe the following regulations with the nicest punctuality:—

“1. Look upon yourselves, for the future, as the stewards of the books, as well as of the other temporal affairs of the society.

“2. Appoint one among yourselves, or see that a proper person be appointed, to take charge, and dispose, of the books under your direction.

“3. Be very careful, that he keeps an exact account of all things relating to the books; and that he keeps all the books in a clean, convenient place, and in good order.

“4. Let exact accounts be kept with all the country societies round about you, that have their books from your stock; and desire the stewards of those societies to take the care of those books they receive from you upon themselves, and to engage for punctual returns of money, or an account of the books unsold being safe in their hands.

“5. We here beg leave to intreat you, that the produce of the books, from the societies about you, may be brought into your hands, at least, once a quarter, and also, that you would send that, and the produce of your own stock, to us once a quarter, by a bill from some trader near you, who can draw on his correspondent here, or by some other safe method; and, with the money, we would beg of you to send up clear accounts of the state of your stock, at the time of your sending, that is, what books you have any call for, and what books you have not, or are wanting.

“6. Be pleased to note this well, that not one penny of the book money is, for the future, to be laid out in anything but with our knowledge and consent; and, that none of it, at any time or upon any occasion whatever, is to be given to the preachers, or any one else, but to us only, who have a power of attorney to receive it, and who are absolutely accountable for all the books we let go out of our hands.

“7. And that the above article may be observed without any exception or deviation, our ministers, the Mr. Wesleys, have agreed with us, that all the produce of the books shall come into our hands, and be sent to us quarterly; and that they themselves will, upon no account whatever, take up any of the book money in any of the country societies throughout England: and, accordingly, you are to observe, that we most earnestly desire, that you would do your utmost, that this agreement be exactly fulfilled.

“8. And we, moreover, seriously wish, that you would so take upon yourselves the management of the books, as to look upon yourselves as debtors to the book accounts; for, as we cannot carry on so large a concern without good security for punctual returns every quarter, so having your word for the security of such payments, we should cheerfully hope, for the future, by the blessing of God, that no confusion or irregularities would fall out in the progress of our undertaking.

“9. Having taken upon ourselves to manage this great concern, we find it impossible to do it effectually, unless you act heartily and zealously in connection with us; and, for this reason it is, that we have proposed the foregoing regulations, and do seriously hope, that you will comply with them in every point.

“10. We beg that you would, by one of your members, keep up a frequent correspondence with us, and send your orders for books to us only (directing for Mr. Briggs, in Hoxton Square, London); at the same time giving us clear directions how, and to whom, we should direct, that letters or parcels may the most speedily reach you.

“Thus, dear brethren, we have, with the utmost freedom, delivered our sentiments to you on this important article, to which we desire, your speedy answer, stating how far you can comply with the foregoing regulations, and how far not. And we further beg of you to send us what money you have in hand, with all speed, having printers and bookbinders to pay to a considerable amount. We beg also, that you would send us as exact an account as possible (from the time, of your last settling accounts with Mr. Butts) of what cash you have received for books, how much of it you have sent to London, or paid elsewhere; and also, a general account of your stock, and an exact account of your wants to Ladyday last.

“These things being undertaken by you, as the labour of love, and for the benefit of our ministers (we ourselves having no profit from it, but the profits that will meet us in eternity), we are persuaded great good will follow; and, all things being done orderly and without confusion, our societies, we trust, will continue the great blessings of God upon our nation.

“Commending you and ourselves to the grace and influence of the Spirit of Christ Jesus our Head, we subscribe ourselves, in truth, dear brethren, your most affectionate brethren, and hearty well wishers in the Lord,

T. BUTTS, W. BRIGGS.”

Such was the first circular of Wesley’s first book stewards. Our information concerning Mr. Butts is scanty; but he was as honest as honesty itself; and, in that respect, was admirably fitted for his office. At an early period, he was the travelling companion of the two Wesleys; and in 1744 was employed by Charles Wesley to carry, to Wednesbury, the sum of £60, which had been collected for the relief of the persecuted Methodists in that town and neighbourhood.[201] Our best glimpse of him, however, is in a letter which he addressed to Wesley, in 1750, on “the duty of all to pay their debts.” He writes:—

“One of the greatest evils, in the society, is the disregard of some persons to pay their just debts. I would not take upon me to say, that Christianity requires persons enthralled in debt to live upon bread and water; but can honest persons indulge themselves in strong beer and tea, when small beer and water gruel are much cheaper, and full as wholesome? Or, can they justly deck themselves in any other than the very coarsest apparel? Not long ago, I sent to a man for some money he has owed these three or four years; he sent me for answer—‘that as cambrics were now forbidden, he wanted his money to buy muslin for his wife’s caps; and therefore could not pay me.’ I called upon a widow for a debt that had been owing long; she sent me word, ‘she had nothing to do with her husband’s debts’; and yet, some time after, I saw this member of our society dressed in the attire of a lady, in her silk gown and capuchin, her hair flowing down her neck, and her ruffles dangling to her knees. You have justly discouraged the society from going to law with each other; but, unless you, at the same time, take great care that dishonest members be expelled thence, the society will be a sanctuary for them.”[202]

No wonder that Wesley chose such a man for his book steward.

William Briggs, for a time, was one of Wesley’s preachers, or, at least, one whom he employed in visiting his societies,[203] and was present at the conference of 1748. On January 28, 1749, he was married, by Charles Wesley,[204] to Miss Perronet, daughter of the vicar of Shoreham.[205] Mr. Briggs, like Mr. Butts, was a man of uncompromising integrity; and who, while loving, honouring, and reverencing Wesley in a high degree, had honesty enough to tell him of what he conceived to be his faults. In a letter, written about the same time as Thomas Butts’, after eulogizing Wesley for his many excellencies, he continues—

“But I think your experience is buried in your extensive knowledge. I think you feel not, abidingly, a deep sense of your own spiritual weakness, the nearness of Christ to save, nor a sweet communion with God by the Holy Ghost. You have the appearance of all Christian graces, but they do not, I think, spring from a deep experience. A good nature, with great abilities, will mimic grace; but grace is more than outward; it brings the soul to a deep union with God, and its fellow Christians; but there is a want of sympathy in your discourses and conversation;” etc.[206]

This was bold language to employ, and was unauthorised by facts; but it was the language of an honest, though mistaken, friend; and, three years afterwards, that friend was one of Wesley’s book stewards.

The only tract of any consequence, published against the Methodists, in 1753, was “A serious Address to the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, in relation to the principal doctrine advanced and maintained by him and his assistants. By John Parkhurst, M.A.” 8vo, 31 pages. The doctrine referred to was the witness of the Spirit. The writer was the celebrated author of the well known Hebrew and Greek lexicons which bear his name. Parkhurst was a Rugby scholar, a fellow of Cambridge university, and the possessor of large estates. His “serious address” to Wesley, written in the twenty-fifth year of his age, was his first publication. He professes to examine the texts adduced by Wesley in support of the doctrine of the Spirit’s witness, and, in a friendly spirit, endeavours to refute Wesley’s interpretation of them.

Perhaps we ought to mention another pamphlet, upon whose friendliness, or hostility, it would be difficult to pronounce an opinion. Its title was, “The Principles and Preaching of the Methodists considered. In a letter to the Rev. Mr. ——” 8vo, 44 pages. In one page the author abuses the Methodists; in another he praises them. He tells his readers, that the masses, among whom the Methodists were labouring, were “honest souls, happily destitute of a taste for those modern embellishments, which enervate the word of God, and render it of no effect. In the simplicity of their hearts, they wanted no kickshaws to recommend a gospel entertainment; and found nourishment from the sincere milk of the word without its being converted into whipped syllabub.”

Wesley’s publications, in 1753, were the following.

1. Fourteen volumes of the “Christian Library,” namely, Vol. XX. to Vol. XXXIII. inclusive, and making altogether more than four thousand and three hundred printed 12mo pages. This was no trifle to be undertaken and accomplished by a clergyman without money, and who was always traveling; but Wesley did more than this. Hence the additional publications belonging to this period, one of which had an enormous circulation, and was of great service to the Methodists, in their public and private meetings.

2. “Hymns and Spiritual Songs, intended for the use of real Christians of all Denominations.” 12mo, 124 pages. For many years, this was the hymn-book of the Methodist meeting-houses. In thirty-three years, twenty-four editions were issued. The first edition, now before us, has no author’s name, but that the work was Wesley’s there can be no mistake. Besides the evidence arising from its being “printed by William Strahan; and sold at the Foundery in Upper Moorfields, and in the Horsefair, Bristol,” we have Wesley’s own statement, made in 1779, that he himself made the compilation “several years ago from a variety of hymn-books.”[207] The hymns are eighty-four in number, but some are divided into as many as half-a-dozen parts. The first is the well known paraphrase on Isaiah lv., beginning with the line—

“Ho! every one that thirsts, draw nigh.”

The last is a long hymn of twenty-six stanzas of eight lines each, entitled “The Communion of Saints,” and beginning—

“Father, Son, and Spirit hear Faith’s effectual fervent prayer; Hear, and our petitions seal, Let us now the answer feel.”

3. “An Extract of the Reverend Mr. John Wesley’s Journal, from October 27, 1743, to November 17, 1746.” 12mo, 160 pages.

4. “The Complete English Dictionary, explaining most of those hard words which are found in the best English writers. By a Lover of Good English and Common Sense. N.B.—The Author assures you he thinks this is the best English dictionary in the world.” Such is Wesley’s title page. The book is 12mo, and consists of 144 pages. The preface is in perfect keeping with the title page.

“As incredible as it may appear, I must avow, that this dictionary is not published to get money, but to assist persons of common sense and no learning, to understand the best English authors; and that, with as little expense of either time or money, as the nature of the thing would allow. To this end, it contains, not a heap of Greek and Latin words, just tagged with English terminations (for no good English writers, none but vain or senseless pedants, give these any place in their writings); not a scroll of barbarous law expressions, which are neither Greek, Latin, nor good English; not a crowd of technical terms, the meaning whereof is to be sought in books expressly wrote on the subjects to which they belong; not such English words as and, of, but, which stand so gravely in Mr. Bailey’s, Pardon’s, and Martin’s dictionaries; but ‘most of those hard words which are found in the best English writers.’”

To rightly appreciate this curious publication, it must be borne in mind, that Wesley was now putting into the hands of thousands of the common people extracts from “the best English writers,” in the numerous volumes of his “Christian Library.” Hence the necessity he felt of giving to the same readers a compendious dictionary explaining words in that Library, which many, at least, were not likely to understand.

In reference to his egotistic title page, Wesley waggishly continues—

“I have often observed, the only way, according to the modern taste, for any author to procure commendation to his book, is vehemently to commend it himself. For want of this deference to the public, several excellent tracts, lately printed, but left to commend themselves by their intrinsic worth, are utterly unknown or forgotten. Whereas, if a writer of tolerable sense will but bestow a few violent encomiums on his own work, especially if they are skilfully arranged in the title page, it will pass through six editions in a trice; the world being too complaisant to give the gentleman the lie, and taking it for granted, he understands his own performance best. In compliance, therefore, with the taste of the age, I add, that this little dictionary is not only the shortest and the cheapest, but likewise, by many degrees, the most correct which is extant at this day. Many are the mistakes in all the other English dictionaries which I have yet seen. Whereas, I can truly say, I know of none in this; and I conceive the reader will believe me; for if I had, I should not have left it there. Use then this help, till you find a better.”

This is hardly egotism, so much as satire; or, perhaps, both united. Be that as it may, there can be no question, that Wesley’s little, though pretentious, dictionary was calculated to be of great service in assisting the poor, unlettered Methodists in understanding even the hardest words in his “Christian Library.”

Wesley was a lover of plainness—plain food, plain clothing, plain truth, and plain language. “What is it,” he wrote in 1764, “that constitutes a good style? Perspicuity, purity, propriety, strength, and easiness joined together. When any one of these is wanting, it is not a good style. As for me, I never think of my style at all; but just set down the words that come first. Only when I transcribe anything for the press, then I think it my duty to see every phrase be clear, pure, and proper. Conciseness, which is now, as it were, natural to me, brings quantum sufficit of strength. If, after all, I observe any stiff expression, I throw it out, neck and shoulders. Clearness, in particular, is necessary for you and me; because we are to instruct people of the lowest understanding. We should constantly use the most common, little, easy words (so they are pure and proper) which our language affords. When I had been a member of the university about ten years, I wrote and talked much as you do now. But when I talked to plain people in the castle, or the town, I observed they gaped and stared. This quickly obliged me to alter my style, and adopt the language of those I spoke to. And yet there is a dignity in this simplicity, which is not disagreeable to those of the highest rank.”[208]

Holding such views, no wonder that Wesley compiled a dictionary to explain “the hard words in the English writers.”

1754.

[Sidenote: 1754 Age 51]

Wesley began the year 1754, as an invalid, at the Hotwells, Bristol. On the first Sunday of the year, he commenced writing his “Notes on the New Testament,”—“a work,” says he, “which I should scarce ever have attempted, had I not been so ill as not to be able to travel or preach, and yet so well as to be able to read and write.” With the exception of the time prescribed for his taking exercise on horseback, two hours for meals, and one for private prayer, he spent sixteen hours a day on this,—the greatest work which he had yet attempted. For a few days, his brother assisted him in comparing the translation of the evangelists with the original, and in reading Dr. Heylyn’s Lectures, and Dr. Doddridge’s Expositor. In ten weeks, his rough draft of the translation, and the notes on the four gospels, was completed.

He now returned to London, and, retiring to the village of Paddington, he spent nearly the whole of the next three months in writing, with the exception of coming to town on Saturday evenings for the purpose of taking part in Sunday services.

Thus half of the year 1754 was spent in needed retirement, and in comparative silence. After an intermission of four months, Wesley preached, for the first time, at Bristol, on March 26. On Easter Sunday, he preached a sermon in West Street chapel, Seven Dials, which was the means of the conversion of Alexander Mather, who then, for the first time, saw and heard him, but afterwards became one of his chief counsellors.[209] A month later, he preached to a densely crowded congregation, in what had been Sadlers Wells theatre; and, with less or more frequency, in other places in the metropolis until Whit Sunday, when he once more took the evening service at the Foundery; but writes, “I have not recovered my whole voice or strength; perhaps I never may; but let me use what I have.”

In this way were spent his convalescent months of enforced retirement. Wesley found it impossible to live a life of inactivity.

Whitefield was off to America, having embarked in the month of March. Where Charles Wesley was employed we have no means of knowing. Of Wesley himself a few glimpses will be obtained in the following extracts from letters written during his seclusion.

Three days after his arrival at Bristol Hotwells, he wrote as follows to his friend Blackwell.

“BRISTOL, January 5, 1754.

“DEAR SIR,—If I write to my best friends first, I must not delay writing to you, who have been the greatest instruments, in God’s hands, of my recovery thus far. The journey hither did not weary me at all; but I now find the want of Lewisham air. We are (quite contrary to my judgment, but our friends here would have it so) in a cold, bleak place, and in a very cold house. If the Hotwell water make amends for this, it is well. Nor have I any place to ride, but either by the river side, or over the downs, where the wind is ready to carry me away. However, one thing we know,—that whatsoever is, is best. My wife joins me in tender love both to Mrs. Blackwell, Mrs. Dewall, and yourself.”[210]

A fortnight after this, Whitefield addressed his old friend thus.

“LONDON, January 19, 1754.

“DEAR MR. WESLEY,—As my embarking for America seems to be very near at hand, your question must necessarily be answered in the negative. However, I thank you for your kind offer, and earnestly pray, that, wherever you are called to labour, you may find the work of the Lord prospering in your hands. I did not know, that there was any demur between you and those with whom you have been for some time connected; and I am sure, God is my witness, that I want to draw no man from them. People, money, power, are not my objects. We have blessed seasons here; the glory of the Lord fills our new Tabernacle. I hope you find your present illness sanctified. That is a sign of special love. Adieu, I am in great haste. But with greater love, I subscribe myself, dear Mr. Wesley, yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[211]

For four years past, Henry Venn had been curate of St. Matthew’s church, in Friday Street, London. Twelve years before, he had entered St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he was reckoned one of the best cricket players in the university. His last game was in 1747, in a match between Surrey and All England, and was played a week before his ordination. As soon as it was over, he announced his intention not to play again. His friends asked him why. He answered, “Because I am to be ordained on Sunday; and I will never have it said of me, ‘Well struck, parson!’” He now began to read Law’s “Serious Call”; kept frequent fasts; and abandoned his gay companions.[212] In 1754, he wrote the following to Wesley.

“LONDON, March 21, 1754.

“DEAR SIR,—I have often experienced your words to be as thunder to my drowsy soul, I presume, though a stranger, to become a petitioner, begging you would send me a personal charge, to take heed to feed the flock committed unto me. If you consider the various snares to which a curate is exposed—either to palliate the doctrines of the gospel, or to make treacherous allowances to the rich and great, or, at least, to sit down satisfied with doing the least, more than the best, among the idle shepherds,—you will not, I hope, condemn this letter, as impertinently interrupting you in your noble employment, or think one hour lost in complying with its request. It is the request of one, who though he differs from you, and possibly ever may in some points, yet must ever acknowledge the benefit and light he has received from your works and preaching; and, therefore, is bound to thank the Lord of the harvest, for sending a labourer among us, so much endued with the spirit and power of Elias; and to pray for your long continuance among us, to encourage me and my brethren, by your example, while you edify us by your writings. I am, sir, your feeble brother in Christ,

“HENRY VENN.”[213]

One of Venn’s acquaintance, at Cambridge, was Mr. Samuel Furley. He it was who recommended Venn to read Law’s “Serious Call,” which led to his adopting a new mode of life. Furley was still at college, and was only twenty-two years of age. Like Venn, he also wrote to Wesley for advice, and received the following answer.

“BRISTOL, March 30, 1754.

“DEAR SIR,—I received your letter, and rejoiced to find, that you are still determined to save yourself, by the grace of God, from this perverse generation. But this cannot possibly be done at Cambridge (I speak from long experience), unless you can make and keep one resolution, to have no acquaintance but such as fear God. I know it may be some time before you will find any that truly bear this character. If so, it is best to be alone till you do, and to converse only with your absent friends by letter. But if you are carried away with the stream into frequent conversation with harmless, good natured, honest triflers, they will soon steal away all your strength, and stifle all the grace of God in your soul.

“With regard to your studies, I know no better method you could pursue, than to take the printed rules of Kingswood school, and to read all the authors therein mentioned, in the same order as they occur there. The authors set down for those in the school, you would probably read in about a twelvemonth; and those afterwards named, in a year or two more: and it will not be lost labour. I suppose you to rise not later than five; to allow an hour in the morning and another in the evening for private exercises; an hour before dinner, and one in the afternoon for walking; and to go to bed between nine and ten. I commend you to Him who is able to carry you through all dangers, and am, dear sir, your affectionate brother and servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[214]

In the fourth week of the month of May, Wesley held his annual conference. He writes: “The spirit of peace and love was in the midst of us. Before we parted, we all willingly signed an agreement, not to act independently of each other; so that the breach lately made has only united us more closely together than ever.”

The breach, here referred to, was the withdrawal from the itinerant work of Samuel Larwood (whom Wesley buried two years afterwards), Charles Skelton, John Whitford, and one or two others, who had become dissatisfied with the itinerant plan, and with their position as mere evangelists. Wesley hoped that the evil was ended; but it was spread more widely than he imagined, as will be seen hereafter.

The appointments of the conference week will throw some light on the state of Methodism in London, in 1754; and it may gratify the curious reader to see a copy of the plan for the week beginning May 20, and to learn how often, and in what places, public services were held. The following is a literatim copy from Wesley’s manuscript, with the exception of the figures for the appended notes.

┌───────┬─────────────┬────────────┬────────────┬────────────┐ │ │ THE F.^1 │ SP.^2 │ SN.^3 │ WAP.^4 │ ├───────┼─────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┤ │^8M. M.│ Jo. Fen.^9 │ │ │ │ │ E.│ │ │Ja. Jo.^{13}│Ja. De.^{12}│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ Tu. M.│Jo. Ed.^{15} │ │ │ │ │ E.│ C. W.^{16} │{Deptf. │ │ │ │ │ │{C. P.^{17} │ │ │ │ W. │ R. Sw.^{10} │ │ │ │ │ E.│ │C. Hr.^{14} │ │ │ │ Th. │ C. Hr.^{14} │ │ │ │ │ E.│Jos. Co.^{21}│ │Jo. Jo.^{11}│ │ │ Fr. │T. Mitc.^{22}│ │ │ │ │ E.│ │Jo. Jo.^{11}│ │ │ │ S. │ Jo. Jones │ │ │ │ │ E.│ │{Deftf. │J. W.^{24} │ │ │ │ │{T. Mi.^{23}│ │ │ │ Su. M.│ Jo. Jo.^{11}│ │T. Wa.^{25} │ │ │ E.│ C. W.^{16} │ │T. Mi.^{22} │W. Rob.^{19}│ └───────┴─────────────┴────────────┴────────────┴────────────┘ ┌───────┬─────────────┬──────────────┬──────────────┐ │ │ WELLS.^5 │ CHAP.^6 │| WESTMR.^7 │ ├───────┼─────────────┼──────────────┼──────────────┤ │^8M. M.│R. Swin.^{10}│Jo. Jon.^{11} │Ja. Deav.^{12}│ │ E.│C. Hor.^{14} │{Jo. Edw.^{15}│ │ │ │ │{Jo. Jon.^{11}│ │ │ Tu. M.│ │ │ │ │ E.│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ W. │ │ C. W.^{16} │ │ │ E.│Jo. Ha.^{18} │ W. Rob.^{19} │ │ │ Th. │ │ │ {C. H. or │ │ E.│ │ │ {W. Ro.^{20} │ │ Fr. │ │ C. W.^{16} │ │ │ E.│ │ │ │ │ S. │ │ │ │ │ E.│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ Su. M.│J. Row.^{26} │ │ │ │ E.│ │ │ │ └───────┴─────────────┴──────────────┴──────────────┘

NOTES:—^1 Foundery. ^2 Spitalfields. ^3 Snowsfields. ^4 Wapping. ^5 Sadler’s Wells. ^6 The chapel in West Street, Seven Dials. ^7 Westminster. ^8 Days of week. ^9 John Fenwick. ^{10} Robert Swindells. ^{11} Joseph or John Jones. ^{12} James Deaves. ^{13} Perhaps James Jones. ^{14} Christopher Hopper. ^{15} John Edwards. ^{16} Charles Wesley. ^{17} Deptford, Charles Perronet. ^{18} John Haime, or John Haughton, or John Hampson. ^{19} William Roberts. ^{20} Christopher Hopper, or William Roberts. ^{21} Joseph Cownley. ^{22} Thomas Mitchel. ^{23} Deptford, Thomas Mitchel. ^{24} John Wesley. ^{25} Thomas Walsh. ^{26} Jacob Rowell. (See Methodist Magazine, 1855, p. 224.)

We thus find seven preaching places in London, of which Sadler’s Wells theatre was one; sixteen preachers were employed, and thirty-seven sermons preached during the week the conference held its sittings.

The writer cannot refrain from giving another Methodist curiosity belonging to 1754. In his nearly complete set of society tickets, many are remarkable; but one, issued in the present year, is without a fellow. The ticket was given, by John Hampson, senior, to Otiwell Higginbotham, a man of considerable property, who lived at Marple, near Stockport, and, evidently, was intended to serve, not for one quarter merely, but for four. With the exception of a single line being substituted for a plainly ornamented border, the following is a copy:—

┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ _“To him that overcometh will I grant │ │ to sit down with Me on My throne, even │ │ as I also overcame, and am set down │ │ with My Father in His throne.”_ │ ├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ March 25, 1754. Otw^{ll.} Higginbottom. J. H. │ ├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ June 25. │ ├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ September 29. │ ├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ December 25. │ └────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

On the 8th of July, Wesley, though still in enfeebled health, set out, for the first time, to Norwich, accompanied by his brother, by Charles Perronet, and by Robert Windsor. The whole city was in an uproar respecting the infamous conduct of James Wheatley. The mayor was employed in taking the affidavits of the women whom Wheatley had endeavoured to corrupt. The people were so scandalized and exasperated, that they were ready to rise, and tear the poor wretch to pieces. For four days, the Wesley brothers remained, in retirement, at the residence of Captain Gallatin, transcribing the “Notes on the New Testament.” On the 14th, Charles ventured to preach in the open street, and the congregation was “tolerably quiet, all things considered.” Five days later, his brother returned to London—being so seriously unwell as to necessitate his again taking the advice of Dr. Fothergill. Charles continued at Norwich some weeks longer. His congregations became large; and, on one occasion, he had three magistrates and nine clergymen among his auditors. He received the sacrament from the hands of the bishop; and took a lease for seven years, of a large old brewhouse, to serve as a place for preaching. A little society of eighteen members was instituted. Wheatley’s people were furious and abusive. The city swarmed with papists, antinomians, and Socinians. The opposition was fierce, and, in some instances, brutal; but Charles Wesley was thoroughly aroused; became as courageous as ever; and preached with amazing power, and with great success. Methodism was now fairly started in the city of Norwich.

On his return to London, Wesley was ordered, by Dr. Fothergill, to repair to the Hotwells, at Bristol, without delay. He did so; but such was his restless activity, that, within three weeks, he started on a preaching tour to Taunton, Tiverton, and other places. On September 5, he held the quarterly meeting of the Cornish stewards at Launceston. At Plymouth, he preached in the new chapel, recently erected, but which, though three or four times the size of the old one, was not large enough to contain the congregation. On September 10, he got back to Bristol, “at least as well as when” he left it. In eight days, he had preached eight times, besides travelling, visiting, and meeting his societies.

He now spent three weeks more at Bristol, during which he opened the first Methodist chapel at Trowbridge, a chapel built by Lawrence Oliphant, who, while a soldier, had been converted under the preaching of John Haime, in Flanders. Wesley writes: “September 17.—I rode to Trowbridge, where one who found peace with God while he was a soldier in Flanders, and has been much prospered in business since his discharge, has built a preaching house at his own expense. He had a great desire that I should be the first who preached in it; but, before I had finished the hymn, it was so crowded, and consequently so hot, that I was obliged to go out and stand at the door; there was a multitude of hearers, rich and poor.”

About the time that Wesley preached at the opening of Trowbridge chapel, Samuel Bowden, M.D., bespattered the Wiltshire Methodists by the publication of a satirical poem, entitled “The Mechanic Inspired; or, the Methodist’s Welcome to Frome,” dedicated to Lord Viscount Dungarvan. A few of the first lines of this scurrilous production will suffice as a specimen of all the rest:

“Ye vagabond Levites, who ramble about, To gull with your priestcraft an ignorant rout, Awhile your nonsensical canting suspend, And now to my honester ballad attend. The dupes of sly, Romish, itinerant liars, The spawn of French Prophets, and mendicant friars; Ye pious enthusiasts! who riot, and rob, With holy grimace, and sanctified sob.”[215]

Such were some of the choice epithets heaped upon Wesley and his helpers by this refined and accomplished son of Æsculapius.

On September 27, Wesley thought he “had strength enough to keep a watchnight, which he had not done before for eleven months;” but, at eleven o’clock, he almost lost his voice; and, the next evening, at Weavers’ Hall, Bristol, it entirely failed. He now set out for London, halting at Salisbury on the way. While here, he walked to Old Sarum, “which,” says he, “in spite of common sense, without house or inhabitants, still sends two members to the parliament.”

On October 4, he arrived in London, where he seems to have continued during the remainder of the year. It was a year of great feebleness and affliction; but Wesley, though an invalid, crowded into it as much work as would have been done by any ordinary man in the best of health. What were the works he published?

1. “An Extract of the Rev. John Wesley’s Journal, from November 25, 1746, to July 20, 1749.” 12mo, 139 pages.

2. “An Answer to all which the Rev. Dr. Gill has printed on the Final Perseverance of the Saints.” 12mo, 12 pages.

This is a poem of thirty-seven stanzas of eight lines each, many of which are scorchingly sarcastic. The tract is now extremely scarce, and hence we give the following lengthened quotations. The devil, addressing the elect, is made to say—

“God is unchangeable, And therefore so are you, And therefore they can never fail, Who once His goodness knew.

In part perhaps you may, You cannot wholly fall, Cannot become a castaway, Like non-elected Paul.

Though you continue not, Yet God remains the same, Out of His book he cannot blot Your everlasting name.

* * * * *

God’s threatenings all are vain, You fancy them sincere; But spare yourself the needless pain, And cast away your fear.

He speaks with this intent, To frighten you from ill, With sufferings which He only meant The reprobate to feel.

He only cautions all Who never came to God, Not to depart from God, or fall From grace, who never stood.

‘Gainst those that faithless prove, He shuts His mercy’s door, And whom He never once did love Threatens to love no more.

For them He doth revoke The grace they did not share, And blot the names out of His book That ne’er were written there.

* * * * *

Cast all your fears away, My son, be of good cheer, Nor mind what Paul and Peter say, For you must persevere.

And did they fright the child, And tell it it might fall? Might be of its reward beguiled, And sin and forfeit all?

* * * * *

What naughty men be they, To take the children’s bread, Their carnal confidence to slay, And force them to take heed!

Ah, poor misguided soul! And did they make it weep? Come, let me in my bosom lull Thy sorrows all to sleep.

They shall not vex it so, By bidding it take heed; You need not as a bulrush go, Still bowing down your head

Your griefs and fears reject, My other gospel own, Only believe yourself Elect, And all the work is done.”

The above will give the reader an idea of this rare and curious tract.

3. During the year 1754, Wesley also published eight additional volumes of his “Christian Library,” from Vol. XXXIV. to Vol. XLI. inclusive, and containing invaluable extracts from the works of Dr. Goodman, Archbishop Leighton, Dr. Isaac Barrow, Dr. Samuel Annesley, Dr. Henry More, Dr. Stephen Charnock, Dr. Edmund Calamy, Dr. Richard Lucas, Bishop Reynolds, Richard Baxter, Madame Bourignon, and others.

1755.

[Sidenote: 1755 Age 52]

At the commencement of 1755, Wesley complied with the wish of his old friend, the Rev. James Hervey, and began a revision of Hervey’s greatest work, which, soon after, was published, in three octavo volumes, with the title “Theron and Aspasio; or, a Series of Dialogues and Letters upon the most important and interesting subjects.” Wesley’s revision, however, was not to Hervey’s taste. The manuscript of the first three dialogues (which make 129 printed pages) was sent, and was returned “with a few inconsiderable corrections.” Hervey was not satisfied with this, and told Wesley, that he was not acting the part of a friend unless he took greater liberties in literary lopping. On Wesley promising that he would, the manuscript was a second time submitted for the purpose of being pruned. Wesley’s alterations were now of a more important character; and Hervey was as much dissatisfied with the excessive as he had been with the insufficient parings. Wesley’s work was ended. He was not again consulted. He had revised only 129 pages out of more than 1300; but even that was more than he got thanks for doing.[216] Hence the following, which Hervey addressed to Lady Frances Shirley, to whom the book was dedicated.

“WESTON, January 9, 1755.

“... Mr. John Wesley takes me very roundly to task, on the score of predestination; at which I am much surprised. A reader, ten times less penetrating than he is, may easily see that this doctrine (be it true or false) makes no part of my scheme; never comes under consideration; is purposely and carefully avoided. I cannot but fear, he has some sinister design. Put the wolf’s skin on the sheep, and the flock will shun him; the dogs will worry him. I do not charge such an artifice, but sometimes I cannot help forming a suspicion. If I live to do myself the honour of writing again to your ladyship, I hope you will give me leave to relate the whole affair, as it stands between Mr. Wesley and myself.”[217]

On the 1st of April, Wesley set out, from Bristol, on a three months’ journey to the north of England. Birmingham is described as “a barren, dry, uncomfortable place. Most of the seed,” he writes, “which has been sown for so many years, the ‘wild boars’ have rooted up; the fierce, unclean, brutish, blasphemous antinomians have utterly destroyed it. And the mystic foxes have taken true pains to spoil what remained, with their new gospel.”

At Ashbourne, in Derbyshire, he formed a society of eighteen persons, one of whom was “Miss Beresford,—a sweet, but short lived flower,” who, two years afterwards, exchanged earth for heaven.

At Hayfield, Wesley was the guest of the Rev. William Baddiley,—a sort of second Grimshaw,—a clergyman, who had formed a number of irregular societies, and who had committed the audacious act of employing laymen to assist him.[218] A few hours before Wesley’s arrival, Mr. Baddiley’s favourite daughter died, and it was Wesley’s task to bury her, and to preach to such a congregation as could scarcely have been expected in the Peak of Derbyshire. In the course of his sermon, Wesley had occasion to refer to the text in Ecclesiastes, stating that there is “a time to dance,” and observed, “I know of no such time, except it be a time analogous to that in which David danced before the ark.” “Be careful,” he added, “that you don’t dance yourselves into hell.” This gave great offence to some of his auditors, who had dancing proclivities; and, as if to defy the itinerant parson, a dancing master was immediately engaged, and a school opened for teaching Mr. Baddiley’s parishioners the art of gracefully tripping, on light fantastic toe, the downward path to the place of horrors with which Wesley had dared to threaten them. The dancing was in an alehouse. The alehousekeeper had an only child, whom the fiddling and the dancing exceedingly distressed. The child cried, and said, “I’ll not stay here: I’ll go home.” He ran into the fields, and, being asked by some one whither he was going, answered, “Home.” At the next dancing party, he was put for safety into a back kitchen, but escaped, and, when discovered, was found dead in a neighbouring river.[219]

From Hayfield, Wesley proceeded to Manchester, where he wrote as follows to his friend Blackwell.

“MANCHESTER, April 9, 1755.

“DEAR SIR,—I have another favour to beg of you,—to procure Mr. Belchier’s leave for me to enclose my proof sheets to him. Mr. Perronet sends them down to me in franks; then I correct and send them back to him. The next week I am to spend at Liverpool; toward the end of the week following, I hope to be at Haworth. God has blessed me with a prosperous journey hither, though the roads and the weather were rough.”[220]

There can be no question, that the above relates to the proof sheets of his “Notes on the New Testament,”—sheets now in the possession of Mr. Bate, of Sittingbourne, and which have been kindly lent to the present writer.

On the 15th of April, Wesley paid his first visit to the town of Liverpool, where he spent the next five days. “It is,” says he, “one of the neatest, best built towns I have seen in England: I think it is full twice as large as Chester; most of the streets are quite straight. Two thirds of the town, we were informed, have been added within these forty years. If it continue to increase, in the same proportion, in forty years more, it will nearly equal Bristol. The people in general are the most mild and courteous I ever saw in a seaport town; as, indeed, appears by their friendly behaviour, not only to the Jews and papists who live among them, but even to the Methodists. The preaching house is a little larger than that at Newcastle.” He adds: “every morning, as well as evening, abundance of people gladly attended the preaching. Many of them, I learned, were dear lovers of controversy; but I had better work—I pressed upon them all ‘repentance toward God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.’”

Wesley’s description of a town, now, in point of size, the second city in the kingdom, is not without interest. We have before us a map of Liverpool, published in 1754, which represents the town as merely skirting the Mersey; while Everton and other places, now engulfed in the vast Liverpool population, are represented as somewhat distant villages, surrounded with fields and woods. At that period, there were only three churches—St. Nicholas’s, St. Peter’s, and St. George’s; and two of these had been built within the last half century.

The first Methodist preaching place in Liverpool was a small, dingy, and inconvenient room in Cable Street. A society being formed, a piece of ground was purchased for the erection of a chapel,—the same as the site of the present Pitt Street chapel, and here was built the meeting-house, which Wesley describes as being a little larger than the Orphan House at Newcastle. The neighbourhood was unoccupied and dirty. At the front of the chapel was a large pool of water, through which the Methodists had to pass by the help of stepping stones.[221] Nearly forty years after the time of Wesley’s first visit, the chapel was flanked by a large brickfield; and Adam Clarke, who was then the resident preacher, describes his house as being “neither in hell nor purgatory, yet in a place of torment.” “But where is it?” asked his friend. “You must go,” answered the warm-hearted Hibernian, “down Dale Street, then along East Street, and when you are up to the middle in clay and mud, call out lustily for Adam Clarke.”[222]

One of the first worshippers in the first Pitt Street chapel was a diminutive tailor, whose Christian name was Timothy, and who had a spouse as great corporeally as he was little. Timothy’s wife helped to maintain his family by washing, but this was the only sense in which she was a helpmeet to him. She hated the Methodists, and did her utmost to make the life of poor Tim a scene of purgatorial misery. The little tailor, however, continued faithful; and one night, when he had gone to chapel, his persecuting queen engaged the services of a number of ragged boys to assist her in driving a herd of pigs into the Pitt Street meeting-house for the purpose of disturbing its congregation. Again and again the pigs were got to the chapel door, but as often they revolted, to the termagant’s great vexation. Finding her toil fruitless, and seeing a seat, at the entrance of the chapel, vacant, she seated herself, and, for the first time, listened to the ministry of truth. She was convinced of sin, and went home in deep distress. On poor Tim’s arrival, he was much surprised to see his wife in tears, and asked the reason of such a phenomenon. She related what had happened; Tim found it difficult to believe that the change was genuine; and yet so it was, for, henceforth, she became a sincere penitent; she soon found peace with God; and was as valiant a champion in the service of her Saviour as she had ever been in that of Satan. For sixteen years, she lived the life of a faithful Methodist, and then died happy in God, and went triumphantly to heaven.[223]

From Liverpool, Wesley went to Bolton, Todmorden, Heptonstall, Haworth, Keighley, Bradford, and Birstal, at which last mentioned place his brother met him. The next few days were spent in reading together, “A Gentleman’s Reasons for his Dissent from the Church of England,” the author of which was a Dissenting minister at Exeter. Wesley writes: “It is an elaborate and lively tract, and contains the strength of the cause; but it did not yield us one proof, that it is lawful for us (much less our duty) to separate from the Church. In how different a spirit does this man write from honest Richard Baxter! The one dipping, as it were, his pen in tears, the other in vinegar and gall. Surely one page of that loving, serious Christian, weighs more than volumes of this bitter, sarcastic jester.”

The reading of this treatise was a preparation for the chief business of the ensuing conference, which began at Leeds, on the 6th of May. Wesley says: “The point on which we desired all the preachers to speak their minds at large was, ‘Whether we ought to separate from the Church.’ Whatever was advanced, on one side or the other, was seriously and calmly considered; and, on the third day, we were all fully agreed in that general conclusion,—that, whether it was lawful or not, it was no ways expedient.”

This was by far the largest conference that had yet been held, there being not fewer than sixty-three preachers present, being seventeen more than the entire number of itinerants then employed. Twelve are designated “half itinerants,” namely, William Shent, William Roberts, Jonathan Jones, Jonathan Maskew, James Rouquet, John Fisher, Matthew Lowes, John Brown, Charles Perronet, Enoch Williams, John Haime, and John Furz. Fifteen are named as “our chief local preachers,” namely, John Jones, Thomas Maxfield, Thomas Westall, J. Haughton, Francis Walker, Joseph Tucker, William Tucker, Thomas Colbeck, Titus Knight, John Slocomb, James Morris, Eleazer Webster, Michael Calender, John Bakewell, and Alexander Mather.

“At the close of the conference,” says Wesley, “I spoke thus:—It has been affirmed, that none of our itinerant preachers are so much alive as they were seven years ago. I fear many are not. But if so, they are unfit for the work, which requires much life. Otherwise your labour will be tiresome to yourself, and of little use to others. Tiresome, because you will no longer serve Christ and the people willingly and cheerfully. Of little use, because you will no longer serve them diligently, doing it with your might. I have several reasons to fear it is so with many of you; but let your own conscience be the judge. Who of you is exemplarily alive to God, so as to carry fire with him wherever he goes? Who of you is a pattern of self denial even in little things? Who of you drinks water? Why not? Who rises at four? Why not? Who fasts on Friday? Why not? Who has not four meals a day? Who goes through his work willingly and diligently? never on any account disappoints a congregation? Who has every part of the plan at heart? always meets society, bands, leaders? Who visits in Mr. Baxter’s method? Who preaches the old thundering doctrine, no faith without light? Who constantly and zealously enforces practical religion? relative duties? recommends books? Kingswood school? Who is never idle? What assistant enforces uniformly every branch of the Methodist plan on the preachers and people? visits all the societies regularly? Do you see every preacher observe the rules? Do you reprove, and, if need be, send me word of the defaulters? Do you send me a regular account quarterly? Is your whole heart in the work? Do not you give way to unconcern, indolence, and fear of man? Who will join heart and hand, according to the twelve rules? particularly the twelfth?”[224]

This was faithful dealing with a vengeance. Probably, it was not unneeded; but none but a man of Wesley’s courage would have dared to use it. Affairs, however, were becoming desperate, and a strong hand was necessary to put them right. Some of the preachers had lost their zeal, and others were wishful to become Dissenters. The year 1755 was a crisis. It was an infinite mercy that Methodism was not dashed to pieces.

The great question was the necessity or propriety of the Methodists separating from the Established Church, and of the Methodist itinerant preachers administering the Christian sacraments. For years, there had been dissatisfaction and grumbling. The people, in many instances, had been repelled from the sacramental table in the church, and had been driven to the alternative, of either receiving the Lord’s supper in Dissenting chapels (where such an irregularity might be permitted), or of absolutely committing sin by neglecting one of the most important ordinances of the Christian system. No wonder, that the Methodists were uneasy, and dissatisfied. No wonder, that not a few of Wesley’s preachers, embracing nearly all the most pious and gifted, sighed for some arrangement to meet the emergency created by their own success. Among these were the two Perronets—Edward and Charles—men of education, talent, and piety. Another was Thomas Walsh, pronounced by Wesley the best biblical scholar he ever knew. The leader of the dissentient band was Joseph Cownley, whom Wesley considered one of the best preachers in England. These were men of mark and influence among their less cultured brethren. They were as capable of forming correct opinions as the two Wesleys were. They had a right to be heard; and it was hardly fair to denounce them because they thought that the Methodists were entitled to the sacraments of the Christian church; and that they, as divinely called preachers of Christ’s religion, might be permitted to administer ordinances which that religion solemnly enjoined. Cownley, Walsh, and the Perronets were right; but the time was scarcely come for this to be acknowledged. To a great extent, the Church of England was corrupt; it was also persecuting and repelling. What was there in such a church to make Methodists and Methodist preachers long for continued union with it?

Charles Wesley was irritated and fidgety to a most extraordinary extent. With all the bigotry of the high churchmanship of the present day, he seemed to think, and speak, and act as though salvation, out of the Church of England, was impossible. This may be forgiven, but it cannot be commended. He was unquestionably sincere; but his action, in this affair, was intolerant and absurd. His brother, with a mind far more equable, would probably have acted very differently from what he did, if he had been unfettered, and uninfluenced by his friends. But Charles worried him, and others puzzled him; and the result, as we have already seen, was the agreement come to, after a three days’ discussion by the conference of 1755, that, whether it was lawful or not, it was not expedient for the Methodists to separate from the Established Church.

This was a matter of high importance; and, as it will, ever and anon, present itself throughout the whole of Wesley’s subsequent career, we shall be excused for giving further details respecting it at this period of its history. The following are extracts from unpublished letters written by Charles Wesley to the Rev. Walter Sellon, formerly a Methodist preacher, and master of Kingswood school, but now an ordained clergyman of the Church of England, and settled at Smithsby, near Ashby-de-la-Zouch.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I have seen your honest, friendly letter to Charles Perronet, for which I thank you, both in behalf of myself, and the Church of England. You see through him and his fellows. Pride,—cursed pride has perverted him and them; and, unless the Lord interpose, will destroy the work of God, and scatter us all as sheep upon the mountains. In your fidelity to my old honoured mother, you are a man after my own heart. I always loved you, but never so much as now. How unlike the spirit of poor Perronet and his associates! What a pity, that such spirits should have any influence over my brother! They are continually urging him to a separation; that is, to pull down all he has built, to put a sword in our enemies’ hands, to destroy the work, scatter the flock, disgrace himself, and go out—like the snuff of a candle.

“May I not desire it of you, as a debt you owe the Methodists and me, and the Church, as well as him, to write him a full, close, plain transcript of your heart on the occasion? Charles Perronet, you know, has taken upon him to administer the sacrament, for a month together to the preachers, and twice to some of the people. Walsh and three others have followed his vile example.[225] The consequence you see with your own eyes. O that my brother did so too! Our worthy friend [Lady Huntingdon?] at Clifton could not but believe, my brother had laid on hands, or they would not have dared to act thus. You have her thoughts in mine. Write to my lady, that you may have her mind from herself. You must make one of our conference in Leeds, which will be in May. I give you timely notice. Pray for us. I stand alone, as the preachers imagine. Nevertheless the Lord stands by me. Fain would they thrust me out, that they may carry all before them. The Lord bless and keep you!

“C. WESLEY.”[226]

“LONDON, December 14, 1754.

“MY DEAR BROTHER AND FRIEND,—Write again and spare not. My brother took no notice to me of your letter. Since the Melchisedechians have been taken in, I have been excluded his cabinet council. They know me too well to trust him with me. He is come so far as to believe a separation quite lawful, only not yet expedient. They are indefatigable in urging him to go so far, that he may not be able to retreat. He may lay on hands, say they, without separating. I charge you, keep it to yourself, that I stand in doubt of him; which I tell you, that you may pray for him the more earnestly, and write to him the more plainly. Our conference is in May. You must be there, if alive. The Methodist preachers must quickly divide to the right or left, the church or meeting. God be praised for this, that Satan is dragged out to do his worst, while we are yet living to look him in the face. I know none fitter for training up the young men in learning than yourself or J. Jones. We must, among us, get the sound preachers qualified for orders.

“You are a poor writer of shorthand. Perhaps I may teach you better when we meet.

“My partner salutes you in increasing love. Many thousands, besides her, shall prosper, because they love our Jerusalem. Farewell in Christ!

“C. WESLEY.”[227]

“LONDON, February 4, 1755.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—There is no danger of my countenancing them, but rather of my opposing them too fiercely. ‘Tis pity a good cause should suffer by a warm advocate. If God gives me meekness, I shall, at the conference, speak and not spare. Till then, it is best the matter should sleep, or we should make the delinquents desperate, and their associates, among the preachers, hypocrites. My brother purposely holds his peace, that he may come to the bottom of them. Your letters, and some others wrote with the same honesty, have had due effect upon him; and made him forget he was ever inclined to their party. He has spoken as strongly of late, in behalf of the Church of England, as I could wish, and everywhere declares he never intends to leave her. This has made the Melchisedechians draw in their horns, and drop their design. Sed non ego credulus illis. We must know the heart of every preacher, and give them their choice of church or meeting. The wound can no longer be healed slightly. Those who are disposed to separate had best do it while we are yet alive. Write to my brother again, and urge it upon his conscience, whether he is not bound to prevent a separation both before and after his death. Whether, in order to do this, he should not take the utmost pains to settle the preachers, discharging those who are irreclaimable, and never receiving another without this previous condition, ‘that he will never leave the Church.’ He is writing an excellent treatise on the question, whether it is expedient to separate from the Church of England, which he talks of printing. Be very mild and loving in your next, lest he should still say, ‘The separatists show a better spirit than their opposers.’ You may honestly suppose him now of our mind. I will answer for your admission to the conference at Leeds in the beginning of May. My brother says, his book will be out next summer. I will allow him till next winter. Is not Nicholas Norton under the influence of Charles Perronet? Keep copies of yours to my brother. J. Jones will thank you for a title. I suppose you know, W. Prior is ordained, without learning, interest, or ought but Providence to recommend him. The Lord of the harvest is thrusting out labourers in divers places. Mr. Romaine, Venn, Dodd, Jones, and others here are much blessed. Pray for them as well as us. The Lord be your strength. Farewell in Christ!

“C. WESLEY.”[228]

These letters are not worthy of the man who wrote them. The scruples of men like Cownley, Walsh, and the two Perronets deserved respect, instead of being denounced as “pride,—cursed pride.” “The men,” says Mr. Jackson, “were not children, either in years, understanding, or piety. They were rebuked, but not convinced; and were left to utter their complaints in all directions. To treat them in this manner was only to restrain the evil for a time. It was not removed.”

As already stated, Charles Wesley met his brother at Birstal previous to the opening of the conference. While there, he wrote to his wife as follows.

“My time is chiefly spent with my brother in reading the Dissenter’s book. He found and showed me many flaws in his arguments against the Church, which he interweaves and answers in his excellent treatise on that question. Mr. Grimshaw, whom the separatists claimed for their own, designed coming to the conference, only to take his leave of us, if we did of the Church. All the preachers in the north are unanimous for it. Satan has done his worst, and confirmed us in our calling.”[229]

Early in the morning of the day after the debate in conference was ended, Charles Wesley took his departure, without even informing his brother of his intention; and, on his way to London, composed a poetical “epistle to the Rev. Mr. John Wesley,” which he read, to a “crowded audience,” at the Foundery, and printed in a 12mo tract of 16 pages, four thousand copies being immediately put into circulation. He speaks of his brother as his “first and last, unalienable friend”; and denounces in withering language the unfaithful clergy,

“Who not for souls, but their own bodies care, And leave to underlings the task of prayer.”

After describing the true members of the Church of England, he proceeds:—

“Yet, while I warmly for her faith contend, Shall I her blots and blemishes defend? Inventions added in a fatal hour, Human appendages of pomp and power Whatever shines in outward grandeur great, I give it up—a creature of the State! Nor would I e’er disgrace the Church’s cause, By penal edicts, and compulsive laws. Let others for the shape and colour fight, Of garments short or long, or black or white; Or, fairly matched, in furious battle join For and against the sponsors and the sign; Copes, hoods, and surplices the Church miscall, And fiercely run their heads against the wall; Far different care is mine; o’er earth to see Diffused her true essential piety.”

He then refers to the great revival of religion within the Church, and adds:—

“For her, whom her apostate sons despise, I offer up my life in sacrifice, My life in cherishing a parent spend, Fond of my charge, and faithful to the end. Thrust out as from her pale, I gladly roam, Banished myself, to bring her wanderers home. Yet well content, so I my love may show, My friendly love, to be esteemed her foe, Foe to her order, governors, and rules: The song of drunkards, and the sport of fools; Or, what my soul doth as hell fire reject, A pope—a count—and leader of a sect.“

The battle was not ended. A month subsequent to the Leeds conference, the following letter was addressed to Wesley, by his clerical friend, the Rev. Mr. Baddiley.

“HAYFIELD, June 7, 1755.

“DEAR SIR,—I would speak with regard to the case debated in your last conference at Leeds. Some of your lay itinerant preachers had a desire, as such, to administer the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper. Now might it not be justly said unto them, ‘Seemeth it but a small thing unto you, that God hath separated you from among the congregation, to bring you near to Himself, that ye thus seek the priesthood also? Alas! alas! ye take too much upon you, ye sons of Levi.’

“What can the event be, but settling in such places as seem most commodious to them, and then settling upon their lees? Has not this been the general bane of scriptural Christianity? Has it not eaten out the life of religion, and caused the power of godliness to dwindle in Dissenters of every denomination? For who—who can bear ease and fulness of bread?

“Be not, dear sir, estranged in your affection, nor straitened in your bowels of love to the mother that bare you, and still continues, notwithstanding small irregularities in you, to dandle you on her knees. O! labour, watch, and pray, with all your might, that no such breach be made. Wherefore should the pickthank heathen have cause to say, ‘Where is now their God?’ I query much, if, upon dissenting from the Established Church, the divisions and subdivisions of the Methodists among themselves would not exceed those of the anabaptists in Germany.”[230]

Before leaving the subject, a few more letters must be added. The following were addressed by Wesley to his brother.

“LONDON, June 20, 1755.

“DEAR BROTHER,—Did not you understand, that they all promised, by Thomas Walsh, not to administer, even among themselves? I think that a huge point given up; perhaps more than they could give up with a clear conscience. They showed an excellent spirit. When I (not to say you) spoke once and again—spoke satis pro imperio, when I reflected on their answers, I admired their spirit, and was ashamed of my own. The practical conclusion was, ‘Not to separate from the Church.’ Did we not all agree in this? Surely either you or I must have been asleep, or we could not differ so widely in a matter of fact! Here is Charles Perronet raving ‘because his friends have given up all’; and Charles Wesley, ‘because they have given up nothing’; and I, in the midst, staring and wondering both at one and the other. I do not want to do anything more, unless I could bring them over to my opinion; and I am not in haste for that. Joseph Cownley says, ‘For such and such reasons, I dare not hear a drunkard preach, or read prayers’; I answer, I dare—but I cannot answer his reasons. Adieu!

“JOHN WESLEY.”[231]

“LONDON, June 28, 1755.

“DEAR BROTHER,—Go to Ireland, if you think so, and save Ireland. Wherever I have been in England, the societies are far more firmly and rationally attached to the Church than ever they were before. I have no fear about this matter. I only fear the preachers’ or the people’s leaving, not the Church, but the love of God, and inward or outward holiness. To this I press them forward continually. I dare not, in conscience, spend my time and strength on externals. If, as my lady says, all outward establishments are Babel, so is this establishment. Let it stand for me. I neither set it up nor pull it down. But let you and I build up the city of God. I have often desired our preachers to bury a corpse at Wapping; I mean, to give an exhortation closed with prayer. I do not know, that this is any branch of the sacerdotal office. Thomas Walsh (I will declare it on the housetop) has given me all the satisfaction I desire, and all that an honest man could give. I love, admire, and honour him; and wish we had six preachers in all England of his spirit. But enough of this. Let us draw the saw no longer, but use all our talents to promote the mind that was in Christ. We have not one preacher, who either proposed, or desires, or designs (that I know) to separate from the Church at all. Their principles, in this single point of ordination, I do not approve; but I pray for more and more of their spirit (in general) and practice. Driving me may make me fluctuate; though I do not yet. ‘When the preachers in Ireland set up for themselves, must you not disown them?’ I answer, ‘When.’ Adieu.

“JOHN WESLEY.”[232]

At this period the Rev. Samuel Walker was a zealous and useful clergyman in Cornwall. Born in Exeter, he had become a graduate of Exeter College, Oxford, and, for fourteen years, had been a minister of the Church of England. His labours had been greatly blessed at Truro. At least, eight hundred persons had repaired to him with the gaoler’s question, “What must I do to be saved?” Within the last twelve months, he had formed his converts into societies, and had drawn up rules for their regulation. He was a deeply devoted man, and finished a laborious and useful life within six years after the time of which we are now writing. He was one of the friends of Wesley, who wrote to him as follows.

“BRISTOL, September 24, 1755.

“REVEREND DEAR SIR,—You greatly oblige me by speaking your thoughts so freely. All that you say concerning the inexpediency of a separation from the Church, I readily allow; as, likewise, that the first and main question must be, is it lawful to separate? Accordingly, this was debated first, and that at large, in seven or eight long conversations. And it was then only, when we could not agree concerning this, that we proceeded to weigh the expediency of it.”

Wesley then proceeds to state the reasons assigned by his preachers, why they ought to separate from the Established Church, namely:—1. Though the liturgy is, in general, possessed of rare excellence, “it is both absurd and sinful, to declare such an assent and consent, to any merely human composition,” as is required to it. 2. Though they did not “object to the use of forms,” they durst “not confine themselves to them.” 3. Because they considered the decretals of the Church as “the very dregs of popery,” and “many of the canons as grossly wicked as absurd. The spirit which they breathe is throughout popish and antichristian. Nothing can be more diabolical than the ipso facto excommunications so often denounced therein. While the whole method of executing these canons, in our spiritual courts, is too bad to be tolerated, not in a Christian, but in a Mahommedan or pagan nation.” 4. Because they feared that many of the Church of England ministers neither lived the gospel, taught it, nor knew it; and because they doubted “whether it was lawful to attend the ministrations of those whom God had not sent to minister.” 5. Because the doctrines preached by these clergymen were “not only wrong, but fundamentally so, and subversive of the whole gospel.”

Having stated these as the reasons assigned for separation, Wesley proceeds.

“I will freely acknowledge that I cannot answer these arguments to my own satisfaction; so that my conclusion, which I cannot yet give up, ‘that it is lawful to continue in the Church,’ stands almost without any premises that are able to bear its weight.

“My difficulty is very much increased by one of your observations. I know the original doctrines of the Church are sound; and I know her worship is, in the main, pure and scriptural; but, if ‘the essence of the Church of England, considered as such, consists in her orders and laws; (many of which I, myself can say nothing for) ‘and not in her worship and doctrines,’ those who separate from her have a far stronger plea than I was ever sensible of.

“At present, I apprehend those, and those only, to separate from the Church, who either renounce her fundamental doctrines, or refuse to join in her public worship. As yet, we have done neither; nor have we taken one step further than we were convinced was our bounden duty. It is from a full conviction of this, that we have—(1) preached abroad; (2) prayed extempore; (3) formed societies; and (4) permitted preachers who were not episcopally ordained. And were we pushed on this side, were there no alternative allowed, we should judge it our bounden duty, rather wholly to separate from the Church, than to give up any one of these points. Therefore, if we cannot stop a separation without stopping lay preachers, the case is clear: we cannot stop it at all.

“‘But if we permit them, should we not do more? Should we not appoint them? Since the bare permission puts the matter out of our hands, and deprives us of all our influence?’ In great measure it does; therefore, to appoint them is far more expedient, if it be lawful. But is it lawful for presbyters, circumstanced as we are, to appoint other ministers? This is the very point wherein we desire advice, being afraid of leaning to our own understanding.

“It is undoubtedly needful, as you observe, to come to some resolution on this point, and the sooner the better. I, therefore, rejoice to hear that you think, ‘this matter may be better, and more inoffensively ordered; and that a method may be found, which, conducted with prudence and patience, will reduce the constitution of Methodism to due order, and render the Methodists, under God, more instrumental to the ends of practical religion.’ This, sir, is the very thing I want. I must, therefore, beg your sentiments on this head; and that as particularly as your other engagements will allow. I remain, reverend dear sir,

“Your obliged and affectionate brother and servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[233]

All must admit, that this is a most important letter. It proves three momentous facts. 1. That the conference of 1755 could not come to an agreement as to the lawfulness of separating from the Church of England; and that the only point settled was as to the present expediency of such a separation. 2. That the arguments used, in favour of a separation, were arguments which Wesley was not able to answer to his own satisfaction. And, 3. That rather than give up open air preaching, extemporaneous prayer, forming societies, and permitting men not episcopally ordained to preach, Wesley would wholly separate himself from the Established Church.

Wesley’s position was peculiar. Of all the Methodist clergymen then existing, he was the only one who evinced a willingness to look the difficulties of the situation fairly in the face. His brother was furious. Grimshaw threatened to leave the Methodists if the Methodists left the Church. Baddiley unworthily taunted the lay preachers with aspiring after priestly honours. Walker evidently held strong opinions against the contemplated movement. And Whitefield wrote to Lady Huntingdon as follows.

“NEWCASTLE, September 24, 1755.

“Oh, how hath my pleasure been alloyed at Leeds! I rejoiced there with trembling; for, unknown to me, they had almost finished a large house in order to form a separate congregation. If this scheme succeeds, an awful separation, I fear, will take place among the societies. I have written to Mr. Wesley, and have done all I could to prevent it. Oh this self love, this self will! It is the devil of devils.”[234]

Another clergyman, who was consulted in this emergency, was the Rev. Thomas Adam, rector of Wintringham, near Malton, in Yorkshire, two years older than Wesley, born and educated in Leeds, a graduate of Christ’s College, Cambridge, who obtained the Wintringham living at the age of twenty-three, and retained it for about sixty years, until his death in 1784. Mr. Adam wrote to Wesley as follows.

“WINTRINGHAM, October 10, 1755.

“REVEREND SIR,—As you are pleased to desire my opinion on ‘a formal separation of the Methodists from the Church of England,’ I shall make no apology for giving it to you in as explicit a manner as I can.

“As you are not satisfied, in your conscience, of the lawfulness of a separation in form, but, on the contrary, have advanced many reasons against it, methinks your way is plain before you. If any considerable number of the Methodists should persist in carrying their design of separation into execution, you and others, your present scruples subsisting, will be obliged in conscience to disavow, and declare openly against it. Your present embarrassments are very great, and should be a warning to all how they venture upon a revolt from the authority and standing rules of the church to which they belong. I fear, sir, that your saying, you do not appoint, but only approve of the lay preachers, from a persuasion of their call and fitness, savours of disingenuity. Where is the difference? Under whose sanction do they act? Would they think their call a sufficient warrant for commencing preachers without your approbation, tacit or express? And what is their preaching upon this call, but a manifest breach upon the order of the Church, and an inlet to confusion? Upon the whole, therefore, I submit to your serious consideration, whether the separation is not wide enough already, particularly in the instance of unordained persons preaching, and gathering societies to themselves wherever they can; and whether all the Methodists might not serve the interests of Christ better, by returning to a closer union with the Church, and repairing the breach they have made, than by making it still wider, and separating, what they think, the gospel leaven from the lump?”[235]

The following is Wesley’s answer.

“LONDON, October 31, 1755.

“REVEREND SIR,—You have much obliged me by your clear and friendly answer; with the main of which I fully agree: for I am still in my former sentiment—‘We will not go out; if we are thrust out, well.’ And of the same judgment are, I believe, nineteen in twenty of our preachers, and an equal majority of the people. We are fully convinced, that, to separate from an established church is never lawful but when it is absolutely necessary; and we do not see any such necessity yet. Therefore, we have, at present, no thoughts of separation.

“With regard to the steps we have hitherto taken, we have used all the caution which was possible. We have done nothing rashly, nothing without deep and long consideration, and much prayer. Nor have we taken one deliberate step, of which we, as yet, see reason to repent. It is true, in some things, we vary from the rules of the Church; but no further than we apprehend is our bounden duty. It is from a full conviction of this, that we preach abroad, use extemporary prayer, form those who appear to be awakened into societies, and permit laymen, whom we believe God has called, to preach.

“I say permit, because we ourselves have hitherto viewed it in no other light. This we are clearly satisfied we may do; that we may do more, we are not satisfied. It is not clear to us, that presbyters, so circumstanced as we are, may appoint or ordain others; but it is, that we may direct, as well as suffer them to do, what we conceive they are moved to by the Holy Ghost. It is true, that, in ordinary cases, both an inward and an outward call are requisite. But we apprehend there is something far from ordinary in the present case; and, upon the calmest view of things, we think, they, who are only called of God, and not of man, have more right to preach than they who are only called of man, and not of God. Now that many of the clergy, though called of man, are not called of God to preach His gospel is undeniable: 1. Because they themselves utterly disclaim, nay, and ridicule the inward call. 2. Because they do not know what the gospel is: of consequence, they do not and cannot preach it.

“This, at present, is my chief embarrassment. That I have not gone too far yet, I know; but whether I have gone far enough, I am extremely doubtful. I see those running whom God hath not sent; destroying their own souls, and those that hear them. Unless I warn, in all ways I can, these perishing souls of their danger, am I clear of the blood of these men? Soul damning clergymen lay me under more difficulties than soul saving laymen!

“Those among ourselves, who have been in doubt, whether they ought so to beware of these false prophets, as not to hear them at all, are not men of a ‘forward, uncharitable zeal;’ but of a calm, loving, temperate spirit. They are perfectly easy as to their own call to preach; but they are sometimes afraid, that the countenancing these blind guides is a dead weight even on those clergymen who are really called of God. ‘Why else,’ say they, ‘does not God bless their labours?’ We know several regular clergymen who preach the genuine gospel, but to no effect at all. There is one exception in England: Mr. Walker, of Truro. We do not know one more, who has converted one soul in his own parish. If it be said, ‘Has not Mr. Grimshaw and Mr. Baddiley?’ No, not one, till they were irregular: till both the one and the other formed irregular societies, and took in laymen to assist them. Can there be a stronger proof that God is pleased with irregular, even more than with regular preaching?”[236]

No apology is needed for the insertion of these long extracts. In these days,—when the reunion, amalgamation, or absorption of the Methodists with the Church of England, is exciting so much attention, they deserve to be read with more than ordinary interest. A recurrence to the subject will often be necessary; but, for the present, we must leave it, and track the footsteps of Wesley during the remainder of the year 1755.

The conference at Leeds being concluded, he left that town, on the 12th of May, for Newcastle, where he found some of the Methodists had left the Church already, and others were on the point of doing so, and all, “as they supposed, on his authority!” Three weeks were spent in the Newcastle circuit. He then set out for London, and, at the end of the first day’s journey, reached Osmotherley.[237]

Here he made strict inquiry concerning an event of recent occurrence, and which at the time excited great attention. Osmotherley lies nestled nearly at the foot of a long mountain range, known by the name of Black Hambleton. A few weeks before, a part of the mountain consisting of a vast ridge of rock, called Whiston Cliff, was split asunder, amid a sound as of rolling thunder. On March 25, there was a loud noise issuing from the mountain, but nothing more. Next day, a huge piece of the rocky precipice, fifteen yards thick, ten high, and above twenty broad, was torn from the mountain side and thrown into the valley. The ground shook, and immense stones, of several tons weight, rose like giants out of the ground below, and rolled to and fro with marvellous velocity. On the three succeeding days, the ground continued trembling; in many places the earth clave asunder; and huge rocks turned upside down and moved in all directions. Patches of ground, as much as fifty yards in diameter, were lifted bodily, and, burdened with rocks and even trees, were removed to a considerable distance, without the least fissure being created by the transit. In a space of about forty acres, the earth was cleft in a thousand places, while the cliff, from which the rest was torn, was white as snow, and, glittering in the sunlight, was visible at a distance of many miles.

Wesley, at all times keenly alive to the supernatural, took the deepest interest in this phenomenon. At Osmotherley, he met with eye and ear witnesses of this strange occurrence. He went with one of them, Edward Abbot, a weaver, to the spot, and “walked, crept and climbed, round and over great part of the ruins.” He wrote a description of what he saw, which was published in the London Magazine, the Gentleman’s Magazine, the Public Advertiser, and other periodicals. He endeavoured to account for the phenomenon, and came to the conclusion, that it was not produced by any “merely natural cause,—fire, water, or air, but by God Himself,” who arose to shake terribly the earth; and who purposely chose such a place, where there was so great a concourse of nobility and gentry every year.[238] This excited the ire of an anonymous contributor to the Gentleman’s Magazine, who declared that he had “caused an inquiry to be made into the fact, at no small trouble and expense; and found the whole to be a falsehood, without the least degree of truth for its foundation.” A more audacious lie than this, it is difficult to imagine; and yet it was published. A few months later, Wesley wrote as follows to the editor of that periodical.

“BRISTOL, March 8, 1756.

“MR. URBAN,—I have met with many persons in my life, who did not abound with modesty; but I never yet met with one who had less of it than your anonymous correspondent. The whole account of Whiston Cliff, inserted in one of your magazines, I aver to be punctually true, having been an eye witness of every particular of it. And if F. D. will set his name, and aver the contrary, I will make him ashamed, unless shame and he have shook hands, and parted.

“Yours, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

The editor adds, that, if his anonymous correspondent does not make good his assertion, he is treated in Wesley’s letter with less severity than he deserves. This evoked a communication from a man who afterwards rose to fame in the literary world. John Langhorne, who, besides numerous other works, became the well known translator of Plutarch’s Lives, was now in his twentieth year, and a private tutor in the neighbourhood of Thirsk. Having read the impudent mendacity of F. D., he wrote to Mr. Urban, stating that he himself had visited the scene of this strange upheaving, and fully confirmed Wesley’s statement. Thus terminated this earthquake episode in Wesley’s history.

From Whiston Cliff, Wesley went to Thirsk, and then to York, the society at the latter place being, number for number, the richest he had in England. “I hope,” says he, “that York will not prove, as Cork has done, the Capua of our preachers.” He reached London on the 16th of June, and wrote:—

“From a deep sense of the amazing work which God has of late years wrought in England, I preached, in the evening, on those words (Psalm cxlvii. 20), ‘He hath not dealt so with any nation;’ no, not even with Scotland or New England. In both these, God has indeed made bare His arm; yet not in so astonishing a manner as among us. This must appear to all who impartially consider—(1) The numbers of persons on whom God has wrought. (2) The swiftness of His work in many, both convinced and truly converted in a few days. (3) The depth of it in most of these, changing the heart, as well as the whole conversation. (4) The clearness of it, enabling them boldly to say, ‘Thou hast loved me, Thou hast given Thyself for me.’ (5) The continuance of it. God has wrought in Scotland and New England, at several times, for some weeks or months together; but, among us, He has wrought for near eighteen years together, without any observable intermission. Above all, let it be remarked, that a considerable number of the clergy were engaged in that great work in Scotland; and, in New England, above a hundred, perhaps as eminent as any in the whole province, not only for piety, but also for abilities, both natural and acquired; whereas, in England, there were only two or three inconsiderable clergymen, with a few young, raw, unlettered men; and those opposed by well-nigh all the clergy, as well as laity, in the nation. He that remarks this must needs own, both that this is a work of God, and that He hath not wrought so in any other nation.”

Immediately after his return to London, Wesley entered into an important correspondence, which lasted for the next nine months, and which, in 1760, was published in an octavo pamphlet of 52 pages, with the title, “Original Letters between the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, and Mr. Richard Tompson, respecting the Doctrine of Assurance, as held by the former: Wherein that Tenet is fully examined. With some Strictures on Christian Perfection.” Richard Tompson was no ordinary man. He makes no pretension to any knowledge of the learned languages; but he was unquestionably well acquainted with his own. Without the advantages of early education, he had, by great assiduity in reading, mastered the science of divinity, and was a respectable proficient in the study of literature in general. He was evidently a man of powerful mind, and there is the greatest fairness in his reasoning. Wesley wrote: “Of all the disputants I have known, you are the most likely to convince me of any mistakes I may be in; because you have found out the great secret of speaking the truth in love.” This was praise which Tompson well merited. From first to last, there is nothing in his letters but what is consonant with the highest respect and sincerest love. And yet, he pins his opponent with consummate skill, states his objections in the clearest light, and deduces his conclusions with a power which Wesley found it difficult to resist. In former years, he had been a Methodist; at present he was not. Still, he was a man of enlightened and earnest piety, and of a sober and exemplary life. All his letters, except the last, were anonymous; not because he was doubtful of his tenets, or ashamed of the doctrines he was endeavouring to defend, but because he not unreasonably apprehended, that, if his name was given, his letters might not be read, nor receive the attention which, he knew their intrinsic worth deserved. When he divulged his name, Wesley, like a Christian gentleman, instead of being annoyed at being betrayed into a correspondence with one of whom he had spoken in his Journal somewhat disparagingly, addressed him with brotherly affection, and concluded this remarkable and able correspondence thus: “Your reasons for concealing your name were good: we cannot too carefully guard against prejudice. You have no need of any excuse at all. For you have done no wrong, but rather a pleasure, to your affectionate brother, JOHN WESLEY.”

Wesley’s letters are published in his collected works; but, of course, unaccompanied by Tompson’s; and, without the latter, no one can form a correct opinion concerning this courteous and loving contest. Our own honest conviction is, that Tompson is the master. It is true that, in the main matter of dispute, the difference between the two was more imaginary than real,—more in words than fact; but we feel bound to say, that, in managing the argument, Wesley, either for want of time or want of something else, is worsted.

The subject of Christian perfection is summarily dismissed. Tompson quotes texts of Scripture, and appeals to history, and concludes with an argument which has been elaborated in modern days: “Suppose that two persons, absolutely free from the corruption of human nature, should marry and have children, it is very evident, that they could convey no corruption of nature to their offspring, nor they to theirs, even to the remotest generations: and, therefore, this new species of mankind would stand in no need of a Saviour; that is, in no need of Christ’s righteousness to justify them; in no need of His Spirit to enable them to do their duty, they being possessed of that rectitude of nature which will enable them to act entirely for themselves.”

This is quoted, not for its soundness, but, merely to show how feebly one of the ablest logicians of his age confronted it. The following is the whole of Wesley’s answer: “As to Christian perfection, I believe two, who were made perfect in love, never did, or will, marry together.” This was not argument, but assumption; and Tompson was not slow to avail himself of his advantage. In his next communication he asks, “Why is the marriage state proper for those only who are tainted with sin and corruption?” He reminds his opponent, that two persons, Adam and Eve, absolutely free from sin, have been married, and that by the express command of God Himself. Besides, he asks, “Suppose that two persons, already married, should attain to such a state,—the very same consequences would inevitably follow; and, I suppose, you will hardly venture to affirm, that God will never make any married couple (capable of having children) perfect. If you did, I should ask you first, what ground you had for such an arbitrary hypothesis? and secondly, how you came to marry yourself, when you judged it would be an infallible means of keeping either yourself, or your wife, from that state which is of all others the most desirable?” Wesley, like a prudent man, attempted no reply to this; and so the matter ended.

It will thus be seen, that the doctrine of Christian perfection was not fairly and fully discussed by the two friendly antagonists. Their main subject of dispute was this: “that no person is a true believer in Christ, but he who either certainly knows, or has known, by the immediate revelation of the Holy Ghost, that his sins are forgiven.” Tompson argues, that the definition of faith given by the Church of England,—“a sure trust or confidence in God that my sins are forgiven,” applies not to that faith “which is the immediate proximate cause of justification,” but to that faith which follows after justification. Wesley’s reply to this, in brief, was: “I agree with you, that justifying faith cannot be a conviction that I am justified; but still, I believe that it implies such a conviction.” Further correspondence followed, and Wesley’s opinion, just given, was modified to this extent: “I believe there are some instances of a man who has not a clear assurance that his sins are forgiven, being in a state of justification.” This, in substance, was all that Tompson contended for; and so terminated one of the most friendly controversies in Wesley’s history. No man was more open to conviction than Wesley was; no man was more sincerely in search of truth; no man met a reasonable opponent in a more loving spirit. “If,” said he, in his first reply to Tompson, “if you have observed anything in any of the tracts I have published, which you think is not agreeable to Scripture or reason, you will oblige me by pointing out, and by communicating to me any remarks you have occasionally made. I seek two things in this world—truth and love; whoever assists me in this search is a friend indeed.”

While on the subject of controversy, it may be added, that during the year 1755 a furious attack was made upon the Methodists, in an octavo pamphlet of 37 pages, entitled, “An Apology for the Clergy; with a view to expose the groundless assertions of a late Commentator on the 107th Psalm; and to undeceive the admirers of certain popular declaimers, by showing the dangerous consequences of their manner of preaching.” In this precious morceau, the Wesleys and their fellow Methodists are spoken of as “giving vent to the rankest enthusiasm,”—as captivating the people “with unintelligible jargon,” and “importing contraband doctrines into pulpits” which they had no right to enter. These were hard words, but hardly worth answering.

Another kindred publication was issued, with the title, “A Dissertation on Enthusiasm, showing the danger of its late increase. By Thomas Green, M.A., vicar of Wymeswould, Leicestershire.” 8vo, 219 pages. In this, the Methodists were likened, not only to papists, but to Mahommedans, and fanatics of all descriptions. It was too late for scurrilous publications like these to obtain, or to deserve an answer. Like their authors, they soon sank into well merited oblivion.

On the 30th of June, Wesley set out for Norwich, where he spent the next four days, and spoke personally to each member of the society. On returning to London, at the request of “a friendly gentlewoman,” he became a witness to her will, wherein she bequeathed part of her estates to charitable uses; and part, during his natural life, to her dog Toby. “I suppose,” says he, “her legacy to Toby may stand good; but that to the poor is null and void, by the statute of mortmain!” He dined with one who, for many years, was one of the most celebrated beauties in Europe; but who, suffering from a painful and nauseous disease, was now literally rotting. He called upon an old friend, after a separation of sixteen years, found him a beggar, forsaken by all his old acquaintance, and offered him all the assistance in his power. He held the first Methodist covenant service, at the French church in Spitalfields, above eighteen hundred persons standing up in testimony of their assent to the tenor of the covenant, still in use among the Methodist societies.

On the 18th of August, he started for Cornwall. On the way, he preached to “sleepy congregations” at Reading and at Salisbury. At Shaftesbury, he found a more lively people. In Cornwall, his congregations were large and attentive. Even at Helstone, all were quiet, except two drunken men, one of whom soon walked away, and the other fell asleep on his horse’s neck. At Breage, the lions were now changed into lambs, though their wretched minister had told them, from the pulpit, a few years before, that John Wesley was expelled from the Oxford university for being the father of a bastard child; and that all the Methodists, at their private meetings, put out the lights. In the interval, this mendacious priest had grown thoughtful and melancholy, and had hanged himself. At St. Ives, Wesley visited a young attorney, who had attended the Methodist preaching, but who now sung, and swore, and screamed, and cursed, as if possessed by legion; now, however, after prayer, he sunk down into a state of quietude. At St. Just, Wesley preached on the foundation stone of the new Methodist meeting-house; and, at Launceston, in a gentleman’s dining room, capable of containing a congregation of some hundreds.

Having spent three weeks in Cornwall, he returned to Bristol to finish his “Notes on the New Testament.” During this Cornish tour, he was accompanied by Michael Fenwick, whom he pronounces to be “an excellent groom, valet de chambre, nurse, and, upon occasion, a tolerable preacher.”[239] He wrote to his friend Blackwell as follows.

“REDRUTH, August 31, 1755.

“DEAR SIR,—In my last journey into the north, all my patience was put to the proof again and again, and all my endeavours to please; yet without success. In my present journey, I leap, as broke from chains. I am content with whatever entertainment I meet with, and my companions are always in good humour, ‘because they are with me,’ This must be the spirit of all who take journeys with me. If a dinner ill dressed, a hard bed, a poor room, a shower of rain, or a dirty road, will put them out of humour, it lays a burden upon me, greater than all the rest put together. By the grace of God, I never fret; I repine at nothing; I am discontented with nothing. And to have persons at my ear, fretting and murmuring at everything, is like tearing the flesh off my bones. I see God sitting upon His throne, and ruling all things well. Peace be with you all.

“I am, etc.

“JOHN WESLEY.”[240]

At the end of October, he returned to London, and, on the first Sunday after his arrival, read prayers, preached, and gave the sacrament, at Snow’s Fields, in the morning; preached and gave the sacrament at noon in West Street chapel; met the leaders at three; buried a corpse at four; preached at five; and afterwards met the society, and concluded the day with a general lovefeast.

Whitefield had returned from America in the month of May, and wrote: “The poor despised Methodists are as lively as ever; and, in several churches, the gospel is now preached with power. Many, in Oxford, are awakened to a knowledge of the truth, and I have heard almost every week of some fresh minister or another that seems determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. The greatest venom is spit out against Mr. Romaine, who, having been reputed a great scholar, is now looked upon and treated as a great fool.”[241]

On November 5, after a long separation, Wesley and Whitefield met in London. “Disputings,” writes the former, “are now no more: we love one another, and join hand in hand to promote the cause of our common Master.” The remainder of the year was spent in the metropolis and its immediate vicinity.

At this period, John Fletcher, afterwards vicar of Madeley, was a young man, twenty-six years of age, and officiated as private tutor to the two sons of Thomas Hill, Esq., at Tern Hall, in Shropshire. He had recently been converted, principally by the instrumentality of the Methodists, and had already formed a warm attachment to Wesley, which continued to increase until his death, in 1785. One of his first letters to the great Methodistic leader, perhaps the very first, was dated “London, November 29, 1755,” and is, in all respects, a remarkable production. He expresses a conviction that the end of the world is near at hand, and adduces elaborated reasons for this opinion. He confesses his belief in the second coming of our Saviour; in His making war among His enemies; and in His personal reign on earth for a thousand years. Fletcher’s millenarian letter is far too long to be inserted here; it may be read in the Methodist Magazine for 1793; and is of some importance, as showing, that the millenarian theory, which is now attracting so much attention, found considerable favour among some of the most distinguished of the first Methodists. We shall have to recur to this important subject at a future period.

Before leaving the year 1755, it only remains to review Wesley’s publications.

At the commencement of the year, an anonymous octavo pamphlet, of 32 pages, was published, entitled “Queries humbly proposed to the Right Reverend and Right Honourable Count Zinzendorf.” James Hutton, who was Zinzendorf’s chief disciple, believed this to be the work of Wesley;[242] and, after a careful examination, we are bound to say, that we concur in this belief;[243] and as the pamphlet is extremely rare and also curious, a brief analysis of its contents may not be unacceptable. The Queries are arranged under ten divisions, and the writer hopes the count will give “speedy, plain, positive, categorical answers.” He also states, that, in these Queries, he has “summed up, as briefly as possible, the most material parts of the charges against the Moravians.” Viewed in such a light, the pamphlet is of great importance. The following are specimens.

“I. With regard to yourself and your community. 1. Do you permit the Brethren to style you ‘The angel of the church of Philadelphia’? 2. Do not they almost implicitly believe your assertions, and obey your directions? 3. Do not you think yourself, as a teacher, equal to any of the apostles? 4. Do not you believe your doctrinal writings are of equal authority with the Bible? 5. Do not you judge your church to be the only true church under heaven; and the members of it the only true Christians on earth? 6. Are the Brethren the 144,000 mentioned in the Revelation? 7. Is it honest to term yourselves the Moravian church, when you know you are not the Moravian church? 8. Do you yourself expect to be judged at the last day? 9. Do you believe a thousand souls of the wicked will be saved in that day at your intercession?

“II. With respect to your doctrines concerning the Trinity. Have you spoken these words, or anything to the same effect, ‘Praying to God the Father is not a whit better than praying to a wooden or stone God? The preachers of God the Father are Satan’s professors? The Father and the Holy Ghost minister to Christ in all things? The Holy Ghost is the wife of God, the mother of Christ, and of the church?’

“III. With regard to the Son of God. Do you affirm, that He sometimes gave answers to people that are not fit to be examined according to logic; and, that He had nothing extraordinary in His turn of mind or gifts?

“IV. With regard to the apostles and Scriptures. Do you affirm, that the apostles, except St. Paul and John, did not know so much of the blood theology as the Brethren? Were these your words, ‘I have ever, and still do protest, that the first Christians cannot properly be called a church, being no more than a troop of legalists’? Did you affirm, that there are more than six hundred blunders in the four gospels? Have you left out the whole epistle of St. James in your edition of the New Testament? Are there any persons among you who boast that they never read the Bible in their lives? Have you used it as a term of reproach, to have ‘heads full of Biblish lumber’? Did any of the Brethren say, ‘The Bible is dung, fit only to be spit upon’?

“V. With regard to the moral law of God. Are these your own words, ‘There is but one duty, which is that of believing’? ‘Our method is to preach no commandment but that of believing’? Is it true that, at some of the merry meetings of the Brethren, there was an uproar as if a madhouse had broken loose? that the Brethren threw one another on the floor, and struggled, with many gross indecencies? Is it true, that your son vindicated all this? And that you yourself said, it was blasphemy to censure it?

“VI. With regard to idolatry and superstition. Have you not hymns directed to angels, and the Virgin Mary? Has not a large image of our Saviour been placed in the midst of the Brethren met together? Has not incense been burnt for you?

“VII. With regard to your manner of conversation. Are not you of a close, dark, reserved temper and behaviour? Is not the spirit of secrecy the spirit of your community? Do not you, in many cases, use cunning, guile, dissimulation? Was not Mr. Gambold guilty of a calm, deliberate lie, in publicly affirming, you had not so much as seen those hymns, some of which you had not only seen but composed?

“VIII. With regard to moral honesty. Have you not distressed, if not totally ruined, numerous families?

“IX. With regard to your manner of answering for yourselves. Have you ordered the Brethren to give no answer to any accusation, but the general one, ‘It’s all a lie’? Do you still deem those who blame your hymns worthy of having their tongues plucked out, or their hands chopped off?”

The above are fair specimens of all the Queries proposed by the writer of this curious pamphlet.[244] The conclusion is as follows.

“But I have done. I have proposed the Queries which you desired, and have endeavoured therein to come to the point. Permit me now to remind your lordship of the assurance given to the public, ‘As soon as these Queries are finished, the Moravians, who expect them with earnest longing, will lose no time in answering them.’ If your lordship is inwardly and deeply convinced, that the bulk of the preceding objections are just, and if you are determined to amend whatsoever is capable of amendment, then silence may be a sufficient answer. I am, my lord, your lordship’s real well wisher, and humble servant.”

What gave birth to this publication? Was Wesley justified in writing it? The following facts will help to answer these questions.

The reader has already seen that the eccentricities of the Moravian brotherhood had occasioned a large amount of public scandal. This, unfortunately, increased, rather than diminished; and, hence, on the last day of the year 1754, James Hutton published an advertisement in the London Daily Advertiser, calling for “Queries” to be proposed in reference to the charges publicly circulated against the Brethren; and indicating that answers to the Queries would be furnished.[245]

What was the result? Seven days after the appearance of Hutton’s advertisement, Wesley’s Queries were published;[246] but we can hardly say that they were answered. It is true, that an octavo volume was issued soon after; but the jejuneness, irrelevance, and confusion of the answers to the Queries may be guessed from the cumbrous title of the book, which was as follows: “An Exposition, or True State of the Matters objected to in England to the people known by the name of Unitas Fratrum: in which facts are related as they are; the true readings and sense of books, said to be his, (which have been laid to his charge sometimes without sufficient proof that they were so, and been moreover perverted and curtailed) are restored; principles are laid down as they ought, fairly; the practice, as it has been, is at present, and is intended for the future, is owned. By the Ordinary of the Brethren. The notes and additions by the editor,”—that is, by Count Zinzendorf and James Hutton.

Passing to other publications. It was in 1755, that Wesley completed his “Christian Library,” by the issue of ten additional 12mo volumes, containing more than 3000 printed pages. One of these was in the form of an index to the whole of the fifty volumes published; the others consisted of extracts from the writings of Reynolds, South, Flavel, Annesley, Nelson, Beveridge, Howe, and other distinguished authors.

Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1755, arose out of one of the most fearful events of modern times. On November 1, occurred the great earthquake at Lisbon, a city containing 36,000 houses, 350,000 inhabitants, a cathedral, forty parish churches, as many monasteries, and a royal palace. In six minutes, the greatest part of the city was destroyed, and not less than 60,000 persons met with an untimely death. The same earthquake was severely felt in almost the whole of Europe.

In 1754, Whitefield visited Lisbon, on his way to America, and spent nearly a month in that ill fated city. Early in 1755, he published a 12mo pamphlet of 29 pages, giving an account of what he witnessed, little thinking that the scene of so much sin would soon become the graveyard of tens of thousands of its inhabitants. He found crucifixes, and images of the Virgin, and of other real or reputed saints, in almost every street, lamps hanging before them, and the people rendering them obeisance as they passed. Processions of priests and friars, with lighted wax tapers, were almost of daily occurrence. One of these was led by three popish dignitaries in scarlet clothes, followed by two little boys with wings fixed on their shoulders to make them resemble angels. Then came several images of St. Francis; then an image of our Saviour, with long black hair, and dressed in a purple gown; and then the virgin mother, to whom St. Francis rendered homage. After this, followed a mitred cardinal gaudily attired; a gorgeous friar under a splendid canopy; and then a long train of fat Franciscans. Another procession consisted of nearly two hundred penitents, all clothed in white, their faces veiled, their feet bare, and chains fastened to their ankles; some having on their backs great stones; others carrying in their hands dead men’s bones and skulls; some bearing upon their shoulders a heavy cross; and most lashing themselves with cords, or beating themselves with iron rods. In one of the churches, Whitefield found a solid silver altar of several yards circumference, and about twelve steps high. In another, he met with a golden altar, of nearly the same dimensions, its base studded with precious stones, each step lit up with large lighted silver candlesticks, and the top adorned with silver images of angels. In a large church, belonging to the convent of St. De Beato, he mingled with many thousands in witnessing what was meant to be a representation of the crucifixion of the Son of God. Upon a high scaffold were three full-sized figures of the blessed Saviour and of the crucified malefactors. At a little distance, was the holy Virgin, in long ruffles and widow’s weeds, her face veiled with purple silk, and her head encircled with a crown of glory. At the foot of the Saviour’s cross, lay, in a mournful posture, a living man, dressed in woman’s clothes, personating Mary Magdalene; while near at hand was a younger man, arrayed in a bob-wig and a green silk vesture, representing the apostle John. On each side, stood two sentinels in buff, with formidable caps and beards; and, directly in front, a personation of the Roman centurion, with a large target in his hand. From behind the purple hangings came twenty purple-vested boys, all wearing golden caps, and adorned with wings, and each one bearing a lighted taper in his hand. Opposite to the stage, a black friar, mounted in a pulpit, preached a sort of fifteen minutes’ sermon. Then came four long-bearded men, two of them carrying a ladder, and the other two, as the representatives of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathæa, bearing large gilt dishes filled with spices. Amid great ceremony, the body of the Saviour was taken down; Mary Magdalene wrapped the feet in her widespread handkerchief; the beloved disciple clasped the corpse to his loving heart; shrouded in linen, it was carried round the churchyard in grand procession; and then, followed by the Virgin, Mary Magdalene, and St. John, and by a whole troop of friars, bearing wax tapers in their hands, was conducted to an open sepulchre, and buried. Thus ended the Good Friday’s superstitious tragedy in the far famed Lisbon. A year and a half afterwards, Lisbon was a heap of ruins.

Under the date of November 26, Wesley says: “Being much importuned thereto, I wrote ‘Serious Thoughts on the Earthquake at Lisbon;’ directed, not as I designed at first, to the small vulgar, but the great; to the learned, rich, and honourable heathens, commonly called Christians.”

This was published in an octavo pamphlet of 34 pages; and, within a month, passed through two editions. Perhaps none of Wesley’s publications contain so much fiery eloquence as this. The reader must peruse it for himself.

Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1755, though small, was important—“Catholic Spirit. A Sermon on 2 Kings x. 15.” 12mo, 31 pages. It contains the principles of an evangelical alliance, namely, belief in the Holy Trinity in Unity, love to God and man, and the practice of good works. Wherever he found a man answering to this description, he was ready to recognise a Christian and a brother. He would not urge him to entertain his opinions, or to embrace his modes of worship. The presbyterian, the independent, the baptist, and even the quaker, had as much right to their opinions and preferences as he had to his. All he asked was this, If thine heart be as my heart, in the three great points already named, give me thine hand. In this respect, as in many others, Wesley was far in advance of the age in which he lived; and, more than a hundred years ago, was quite prepared for the Evangelical Alliance that has since been organised.

Wesley’s principal publication, in 1755, was his “Explanatory Notes on the New Testament” (with a portrait), quarto, 762 pages.

Concerning the portrait, Wesley himself gives the following information, in his account of the death of John Downes, one of his untaught itinerants. “In 1744, while I was shaving, John Downes was whittling the top of a stick; I asked, ‘What are you doing?’ He answered, ‘I am taking your face, which I intend to engrave on a copper plate.’ Accordingly, without any instruction, he first made himself tools, and then engraved the plate. The second picture which he engraved was that which was prefixed to the ‘Notes on the New Testament.’ Such another instance, I suppose, not all England, or perhaps Europe, can produce.”[247]

We believe this was the first instance in which Wesley’s portrait was prefixed to any of his works. John Hampson pronounced it one of the best that he had seen.[248]

In his preface, Wesley tells the reader that, for many years, he had contemplated such a work as this; and that the Notes are written “chiefly for plain, unlettered men, who understand only their mother tongue, and yet reverence and love the word of God, and have a desire to save their souls.”

In reference to his new translation of the text, he remarks that he has never altered the authorised version for altering’s sake; but only where, first, the sense was made better, stronger, clearer, or more consistent with the context; and, secondly, where, the sense being equally good, the phrase was better or nearer the original.

He made the notes as short as possible, that the comment might not obscure or swallow up the text. Many of them were translations from Bengelius’s “Gnomon Novi Testamenti;” many more were abridgments from the same learned and invaluable work. He also acknowledges himself largely indebted to the writings of Dr. Heylin, Dr. Guyse, and Dr. Doddridge.

A second edition of Wesley’s Notes was published in 1757. In 1759, he and his brother carefully compared the translation with the original, and corrected and enlarged the Notes for a new edition, which was issued in 1760.[249]

It is a fact worth mentioning, that, before Wesley’s Notes were put to press, he sent the manuscript to his old friend, the Rev. James Hervey, at that time one of the most popular writers of the day, and received the following answer.

“WESTON, June 29, 1754.

“DEAR SIR,—I have read your Notes, and have returned them, with such observations as occur to my mind. I think, in general, you are too sparing of your remarks and improvements. Many expositions are too corpulent, yours are rather too lean. May the good hand of the Lord be with them and their author.”[250]

As a set off to this, Dr. Adam Clarke observes: “Though short, the notes are always judicious, accurate, spiritual, terse, and impressive; and possess the happy and rare property of leading the reader immediately to God and his own heart.”[251]

1756.

[Sidenote: 1756 Age 53]

Whitefield began the year 1756 with quinsy. A physician prescribed a perpetual blister; but Whitefield says, he found that a better remedy was perpetual preaching.[252] In February, he commenced preaching in a Dissenting chapel, in Long Acre. The bishop of the diocese sent him a prohibition.[253] Whitefield persisted. A mob, belonging to the bishop’s vestry, assembled, with “bells, drums, clappers, marrow bones, and cleavers,” and made the most hideous noises, to hinder Whitefield being heard. The chapel windows were smashed with stones, levelled at Whitefield in the pulpit. Anonymous letters were sent to him, full of the most fearful threats. One of these was forwarded to the government; who, at once, offered a reward and his majesty’s pardon to any one who would detect the writer. This, together with steps taken to bring such an ecclesiastical outrage into a court of law, stopped the evil.

The annoyances at Long Acre led Whitefield to commence the erection of Tottenham Court chapel. The sabbath after he took possession of the ground, he obtained nearly £600 towards the expense of building. It was begun in May, and opened in November, 1756, and was called, by a neighbouring doctor, “Whitefield’s Soul Trap.”[254]

During the present year, an octavo volume, of 229 pages, was published, with the title, “The History of Modern Enthusiasm, from the Reformation to the present Times.” A long list of subscribers’ names is given, including dukes, earls, lords, knights, members of parliament, bishops, deans, prebends, fellows of colleges, and rectors, vicars, and curates without number. In the preface, it is alleged that, “though Methodism is now almost quite extinct, yet several of its direful consequences still remain,—as, that sin is no sin in the elect; that faith can never be finally lost; and that once a saint, for ever a saint. The most zealous of the party now, in a great measure, wallow in lust and sensuality, and never stick at anything, be it ever so heinous.” The Moravians are said to be, “in principle and practice, a scandal to Christianity. Inward experiences, dispensations, manifestations, discoveries, improvements, pledges, privileges, and prerogatives; out-goings, in-goings, and returns,—all this glorious apparatus had ended in fulfilling the lusts of the flesh!” Whitefield is accused of reviving antinomianism, of vain glory and boasting, of self conceit, self applause, and self sufficiency, of Luciferian pride, and of intolerably profaning Scripture. Wesley is equally abused. “The petty exhorters” are said to “ramble from place to place, venting crude, nonsensical, heretical, and blasphemous opinions, which are swallowed by the gaping multitude.” “Most of their first admirers and followers were perfectly bewildered, and, having deserted both Wesley and Whitefield, had turned Moravians, or libertines, or deists, or papists, or quakers.” The itinerant preachers and exhorters were “mechanics and illiterate vagrants, pretending to expound by inspiration, and fathering all their crude conceptions on the dictates of the Holy Spirit.”

These are mild specimens of the rabid production of the Rev. Theophilus Evans, vicar of St. David’s, Brecon. Is it necessary to apologise for the reproduction of such mendacious scurrility? We think not; for, without this, the reader cannot form an adequate conception of the gross abuse poured upon Wesley and his friends, and of the terrific difficulties which the first Methodists had to meet.

Another attack, of a different kind, must be mentioned: “The Use and Extent of Reason in Matters of Religion. A Sermon preached before the University of Oxford, at St. Mary’s, June 8, 1756. By Thomas Griffith, M.A., Fellow of Pembroke College. Published at the request of the Vice-Chancellor and Heads of Houses. Oxford, 1756.” 8vo, 25 pages. Of course, Mr. Griffith eschews Mr. Evans’s vulgarities, and it is fair to add, that the Methodists are hardly named; but it is also undeniable, that it was against them that he was chiefly preaching.

Wesley began the new year by writing his “Address to the Clergy,” which will be noticed hereafter. He was, also, not forgetful of his own itinerants. Joseph Cownley had had a fever in 1755, which had left a permanent pain in his head, and from which he suffered until his death, thirty-seven years afterwards. After consulting the principal physicians in Ireland, he consulted Wesley, who wrote thus.

“LONDON, January 10, 1756.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I have no objection to anything but the blister. If it does good, well. But if I had been at Cork, all the physicians in Ireland should not have put it upon your head. Remember poor Bishop Pearson. An apothecary, to cure a pain in his head, covered it with a large blister. In an hour, he cried out, ‘O my head, my head!’ and was a fool ever after, to the day of his death. I believe cooling things (if anything under heaven), would remove that violent irritation of your nerves, which probably occasions the pain. Moderate riding may be of use; I believe, of more than the blister. Only do not take more labour upon you than you can bear. Do as much as you can, and no more. Let us make use of the present time. Every day is of importance. We know not how few days of peace remain.

“I am, dear Joseph, your affectionate friend and brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[255]

On January 26 and three following days, Wesley paid a visit to Canterbury, where he had a congregation containing “abundance of soldiers, and not a few of their officers.” Some might think, that a city like Canterbury, with its magnificent cathedral, its numerous parish churches, and giving its name to the primate of all England, would have had no need of the services of a man like Wesley; and, perhaps, if special circumstances had not existed here, Wesley would not have come. But it was here that Edward Perronet resided, in a part of the old archbishop’s palace. In the suburbs, Vincent Perronet, Wesley’s confidential friend, the archbishop of Methodism as he was sometimes called, was the proprietor of a farm. Above all, Canterbury was a great military depot, and such was the interest which Wesley felt in the welfare of soldiers, that this fact, in itself, was enough to bring him to this far famed city. Love begets love: large numbers of these brave defenders of the country’s rights and honour were converted, and became deeply attached to the few Canterbury Methodists who had shown them kindness. It is said, that on one occasion, when certain regiments were on their way to Holland, and had to pass through the city, such was their grateful remembrance of bygone days, that the Methodists, in the regiments, determined to avail themselves of the opportunity of meeting in class with their former leader; and this they did in such numbers, that the military class-meeting lasted for nine successive hours.[256] No wonder that Wesley loved men like these. He came in January, and again a month afterwards, when he dined with one of the colonels, who said: “No men fight like those who fear God; I had rather command five hundred such, than any regiment in his majesty’s army.”

At this period, the unfortunate Dr. Dodd was struggling into notoriety and fame. Such were his application and talents, that, though only a sizar of Cambridge university, he had, five years before, taken the degree of B.A. with distinguished credit. Leaving Cambridge, he came to London, depending for support solely upon his pen. Here he followed every species of amusement with dangerous avidity. Though only a little past twenty-one, he married the daughter of one of Sir John Dolben’s domestics, and immediately took and furnished a large house in Wardour Street, which, however, at his father’s remonstrance, he soon relinquished. He then obtained ordination, and had now the lectureship of St. Olave, Hart Street; and was also the preacher of Lady Moyer’s lectures at St. Paul’s. He quickly distinguished himself as one of the most popular of the metropolitan preachers. Of his subsequent career we shall have to speak hereafter.

Dodd was now a young man in the twenty-seventh year of his age,—wild and extravagant, but sincere, earnest, and greatly beloved by the crowds that flocked to hear him. In the month of January, he wrote to Wesley on the subject of Christian perfection. Wesley, twice as old as himself, and in all respects his superior, had no personal acquaintance with him, but replied as follows.

“February 5, 1756.

“REVEREND SIR,—I am very willing to consider whatever you have to advance on the head of Christian perfection. When I began to make the Scriptures my study (about seven and twenty years ago), I began to see, that Christians are called to love God with all their heart, and to serve Him with all their strength; which is precisely what I apprehend to be meant by the scriptural term, ‘perfection.’ After weighing this for some years, I openly declared my sentiments before the university, in the sermon on the Circumcision of the Heart. About six years after, in consequence of an advice I received from Bishop Gibson, ‘Tell all the world what you mean by perfection,’ I published my coolest and latest thoughts, in the sermon on that subject. I therein build on no authority, ancient or modern, but the Scripture. If this supports any doctrine, it will stand: if not, the sooner it falls, the better. Neither the doctrine in question, nor any other, is anything to me, unless it be the doctrine of Christ and His apostles. If, therefore, you will please to point out to me any passages in that sermon, which are either contrary to Scripture, or not supported by it, and to show that they are not, I shall be full as willing to oppose, as ever I was to defend them. I search for truth—plain Bible truth, without any regard to the praise or dispraise of men. If you will assist me in this search, more especially by showing me where I have mistaken my way, it will be gratefully acknowledged by, reverend sir, your affectionate brother and servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[257]

This noble letter was followed by further correspondence, showing that, instead of being wedded to his own peculiar doctrines, Wesley’s supreme anxiety was to know, what is truth. The following is an extract from a letter which fills nearly seven printed pages of the Arminian Magazine.

“KINGSWOOD, March 12, 1756.

“REVEREND SIR,—You and I the more easily bear with each other, because we are both of us rapid writers, and, therefore, the more liable to mistake. I will thank you for showing me any mistake I am in; being not so tenacious of my opinions now, as I was twenty or thirty years ago. Indeed, I am not fond of any opinion as such. I read the Bible with what attention I can, and regulate all my opinions thereby, to the best of my understanding. But I am always willing to receive more light: particularly with regard to any less common opinions; because the explaining and defending them takes up much time, which I can ill spare from other employments. Whoever, therefore, will give me more light with regard to Christian perfection, will do me a singular favour. The opinion I have concerning it, at present, I espouse merely because I think it is scriptural; if, therefore, I am convinced it is not scriptural, I shall willingly relinquish it. I have no particular fondness for the term. It seldom occurs either in my preaching or writings. It is my opponents who thrust it upon me continually, and ask me what I mean by it.

“That the term ‘perfection’ is a scriptural term, is undeniable. Therefore, none ought to object to the use of the term, whatever they may do to this or that application of it. I still think, that perfection is only another term for holiness, or the image of God in man. God made man perfect, I think, is just the same as He made him holy, or in His own image. You are the very first person I ever read of or spoke with, who made any doubt of it. Now this perfection does certainly admit of degrees. Therefore, I readily allow the propriety of that distinction, perfection of kinds, and perfection of degrees. Nor do I remember one writer, ancient or modern, who excepts against it.

“I never meant any more by perfection than the loving God with all our heart, and serving Him with all our strength. But I dare not say less than this. For it might be attended with worse consequences than you seem to be aware of. If there be a mistake, it is far more dangerous on the one side than on the other. If I set the mark too high, I drive men into needless fears: if you set it too low, you drive them into hell fire.

“With regard to fathers in Christ, you say, I ‘set aside the experience of the best Christians.’ I did not tell you so: I say nothing about them. In a sermon of a single sheet, I had no room for anything but plain arguments from Scripture. I have somewhat to say, if need should be, from the head of authority likewise: yea, and abundantly more than you seem to apprehend. My father gave me, thirty years ago, to reverence the ancient church and our own. But I try every church and every doctrine by the Bible. This is the word by which we are to be judged in that day. Whatever further thoughts you are pleased to communicate, will be seriously considered by, reverend and dear sir, your affectionate brother and fellow labourer,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[258]

Thus, for the present, ended his correspondence with William Dodd.

The year 1756 opened under a cloud of gloom. “Men,” says Wesley, “were divided in their expectations concerning the ensuing year. Some believed it would bring a large harvest of temporal calamities; others, that it would be unusually fruitful of spiritual blessings.”[259]

Nine months before, the government had announced, that war with France was inevitable. Fears were felt for Ireland, which was dissatisfied and turbulent. A million of money was voted for the defence of our American possessions. The French ambassador at London, and the English ambassador at Paris, were recalled, and a war commenced which cost millions of human lives, devastated no inconsiderable part of Europe, and carried carnage into all the four quarters of the globe. Even before the end of 1755, three hundred French merchant ships, many of them extremely rich, and about eight thousand French seamen, were brought into English ports. Still great alarm existed. There were hostile preparations in the channel; and a descent of the French upon England and Ireland was feared. On February 6, a national fast was observed, throughout the kingdom, with unusual seriousness. Such a fast in London had not been seen since the Restoration. Business was suspended, and churches and meeting houses were more than full.[260] Charles Wesley reprinted the “Hymns for Times of Trouble.” George Whitefield published an “Address to persons of all Denominations,” in which he spoke of “an insulting, enraged, and perfidious enemy advancing nearer and nearer to the British borders,” “accompanied with a popish Pretender, and thousands of Romish priests, to invade, subdue, and destroy the bodies and substance, and to blind, deceive, and tyrannise over the souls and consciences of the people belonging to this happy isle.”[261]

All this was right, and deserves to be commended; but, as usual, Wesley was more practical than either his friend Whitefield, or than his brother Charles. On the 1st of March, he addressed the following communication to the Hon. James West, Esq.

“SIR,—A few days since, Mr. Whitefield and I desired a friend to ask your advice,—to whom it would be proper to make an offer of raising a company of volunteers for his majesty’s service. We apprehended the number would be about five hundred. Finding Mr. Whitefield has since been persuaded, that such an offer is premature, I am constrained to make the following, independently of him: To raise, for his majesty’s service, at least two hundred volunteers, to be supported by contributions among themselves; and to be ready, in case of invasion, to act for a year, if needed so long, at his majesty’s pleasure: only within —— miles of London.

“If this be acceptable to his majesty, they beg to have arms out of the Tower, giving the usual security for their return; and some of his majesty’s sergeants, to instruct them in the military exercise.

“I am now hastening to Bristol, on account of the election; but if my return to London would be of any service, you may command, sir,

“Your obedient servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[262]

Wesley arrived in Bristol on the 3rd of March, and found “voters and non-voters ready to tear each other in pieces.” The two candidates were Jarrit Smith, Esq., and John Spencer, Esq. Wesley, having lost his voice, was not able to preach or to speak to the whole society; but desired those members who were freemen to meet him privately. The result is given in the following letter to Mr. Blackwell, written the day after.

“BRISTOL, March 4, 1756.

“DEAR SIR,—If the election of Mr. Spencer be a thing of any consequence, then it was extremely ill judged to prevent his coming down. He ought to have been here at all hazards, if he were not very dangerously ill. His absence will probably turn the scale; and, if the Jacobites gain one member now, they will have two the next time. Whereas there is reason to believe, had Mr. Spencer appeared, there would have been no opposition.

“Last night, I desired all the freemen of our society to meet me after preaching, and enlarged a little upon his majesty’s character, and the reasons we had to spare no pains in his service, I believe all who had been wavering were fully convinced. But some had absolutely promised to vote for Mr. Smith; it having been confidently reported, that both the candidates were equally acceptable to his majesty.

“The whole city is in confusion. Oh what a pity there could not be some way of managing elections of every sort, without this embittering of Englishmen against Englishmen, and kindling fires which cannot be quenched in many years!

“I remain, dear sir, yours most affectionately,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[263]

The poll at Bristol ended on the 16th of March, when the numbers stood: for Mr. Smith, 2418; for Mr. Spencer, 2347; majority for Mr. Smith, 71.[264]

Wesley spent nearly a month in Bristol and its neighbourhood, and in the principality of Wales. While preaching at Pill, a press-gang landed from a man-of-war, and came to the place of meeting, but, after listening awhile, quietly departed. At Coleford, the little society had been harassed by disputatious baptists and quakers, but was now united and loving. He visited Howel Harris, at Trevecca, and met with a hearty welcome. “I wondered,” says he, “that Howel Harris did not go out and preach as usual; but he now informed me, he preached till he could preach no longer, his constitution being entirely broken. While he was thus confined, he was pressed in spirit to build a large house; though he knew not why, or for whom. But as soon as it was built, men, women, and children, without his seeking, came to it from all parts of Wales; and, except in the case of the Orphan House at Halle, I never heard of so many signal interpositions of Divine providence.”

On the 29th of March, Wesley embarked at Holyhead for Ireland. On landing, he was surprised to “find all Ireland in perfect safety. None had any more apprehension of an invasion, than of being swallowed up in the sea.”

Wesley employed a month in Dublin; during which he met about a hundred children, whom the Methodist preachers catechized publicly twice a week he conducted the first covenant service in Ireland, in which nearly four hundred of the Dublin society united; and he held a conference of the Irish preachers. He writes: “I never before found such unanimity among them. They appeared now to be not only of one heart, but likewise of one mind and judgment.”

He wrote as follows to his friend Blackwell.

“DUBLIN, April 19, 1756.

“DEAR SIR,—While you, in England, are under I know not what apprehensions, all here are as safe as if they were already in paradise. We have no fortifying of seaports; no military preparations; but all is in absolute peace and safety. Both high and low seem fully persuaded, that the whole talk of an invasion is only a trick to get money.

“I purpose going to Cork directly; and, after two or three weeks, turning back toward the north of Ireland. If it please God that troublous times come between the design and the execution, I shall go as far as I can, and no farther. But I take no thought for the morrow. To-day I am determined, by His grace, to do the work of Him that sent me. I find encouragement so to do; for all the people here are athirst for the word of life.

“Do you, at London, believe that the danger of an invasion is over?

“I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[265]

Wesley set out for Cork on April 26. On his way, he preached at Edinderry, where the little society had built a commodious preaching house. At Tullamore, he preached in the market-place, and spent an hour with certain military officers in the barracks. At Kilkenny, he found a number of soldiers meeting in class; and preached in one of the officers’ rooms. “Still,” he writes, “in Ireland, the first call is to the soldiery.” At Waterford, he had to remove “misunderstandings and offences.” The society was split asunder, and was reduced to six-and-twenty members; but he succeeded in winning one-and-thirty back. At Clonmel, which he pronounces the pleasantest town he had seen in Ireland, he preached once in a large loft, capable of containing five or six hundred people; and once in the open street. At the latter service, the mayor of the town, and a number of soldiers and officers, were present, and gave great attention; but, in the midst of the sermon, a drunken man came marching down the street, attended by a popish mob, with a club in one hand, and a large cleaver in the other, grievously cursing and blaspheming, and swearing he would cut off the preacher’s head. The soldiers were for punishing the man, and Wesley had difficulty in hindering them. The brute began to strike the congregation; and wounded a constable in the wrist. He himself was then knocked down, and the mayor and constables marched him away to gaol.

Wesley arrived at Cork on the 12th of May, and preached in the new chapel, which he describes as being “very near as large as that in Dublin; and far better finished in every respect, though at £400 less expense.” This, like the chapel at Dublin, had apartments for the preachers. It stood till 1826, when it was rebuilt, and again opened for Methodist services in 1827.

Having spent three weeks in Cork and its immediate neighbourhood, Wesley, on the 7th of June, turned his face northwards.

He came to Ballygarrane, a town of Palatines, who “retain,” says he, “much of the temper and manners of their own country, having no resemblance of those among whom they live. I found much life among this plain, artless, serious people. The whole town came together in the evening, and praised God for the consolation. Many of those, who are not outwardly joined with us, walk in the light of God’s countenance; yea, and have divided themselves into classes, in imitation of our brethren, with whom they live in perfect harmony. In examining the society, I was obliged to pause several times. The words of the plain, honest people came with so much weight, as frequently to stop me for a while, and raise a general cry among the hearers.”

The Palatines, as previously intimated, were refugees from the Palatinate of the Rhine, in Germany, and were driven from their homes for having embraced the principles of Luther and of the Reformation. Thousands fled to the camp of the Duke of Marlborough; and seven thousand were brought to England in 1709. Of these, three thousand were sent to America; a few remained in England; and the rest were removed to Ireland, and settled principally on the estate of Lord Southwell, in the neighbourhood of Ballingran, where each man was supplied with a musket, called “a Queen Anne,” to protect himself and family; while for every man, woman, and child, eight acres of ground were leased, at the annual rental of five shillings per acre, which the government, who wished to encourage the protestant interest, engaged to pay for the first twenty years. Having no gospel minister, these fugitive Germans soon became “eminent for drunkenness, cursing, swearing, and an utter neglect of religion.” Now they were again reformed; “an oath was rarely heard among them, or a drunkard seen”; they had built a preaching house; numbers were Methodists; and those that were not imitated the Methodists, by forming themselves into classes, and by holding meetings for Christian fellowship. They continued to be a serious, thinking people. “By their diligence,” says Wesley, “they turned all their land into a garden.” Days of darkness, however, soon came. Rents were so raised, that tenants were starved, and obliged to emigrate. In 1760, a company of these, now oppressed, Irish Palatines embarked at Limerick, as Christian emigrants, for America. The crowd who saw them leave little thought that two of that small band on board—Philip Embury, the local preacher, and Barbara Heck, the honest Methodist—were destined, in the mysterious providence of God, to influence for good countless myriads of human beings, and that their names would live as long as the sun and moon endure. That little and unpretending ship contained the germ of all the Methodist churches of the United States; churches which have now more or less beneath their influence about eight millions of the population of that prosperous hemisphere.

Leaving the Palatines, Wesley and Thomas Walsh proceeded to Limerick. At Ennis, he preached in the “courthouse, to a huge, wild, unawakened multitude, protestants and papists, many of whom would have been rude enough if they durst.”

Riding through the counties of Galway and Connaught, Wesley and Walsh came to Castlebar, in the county of Mayo. For ten days, this was the centre of their operations. Wesley preached repeatedly in the churches at Castlebar, Hollymount, and Ballyheen, to large and attentive congregations.

On the 19th of July, he first set foot in the province of Ulster, though his preachers had been labouring there, for several years, with great success. Many had been converted, and a considerable number united together in Christian fellowship.[266] At Lisburn, he preached in the market-house. The rector and his curate called upon him, and “spent two hours in free, serious, friendly conversation.” The society was small, and their preaching house, either now or soon after, was the shop of a stocking weaver, named William Black; his stocking frames filling a large portion of the place.[267] He spoke “plain,” he says, “both to the great vulgar and the small. But between Seceders, old, self conceited presbyterians, new-light men, Moravians, Cameronians, and formal churchmen, it is a miracle of miracles, if any here bring forth fruit to perfection.”

He proceeded to Belfast, where the great proportion of the population were presbyterians. There were four places of worship belonging to the body, two of which were Socinian or Arian. The parish church, in Donegall Street, was the only one then belonging to the Establishment, with the Rev. William Bristow for its vicar,—an able, orthodox, and liberal Christian.

At Carrickfergus, he preached in the session house to most of the inhabitants of the town. Here he was opposed by the notorious James Relly, who “begun a dull, pointless harangue, about hirelings and false prophets.” “He cawed, and cawed,” says Wesley, “but could utter nothing, hardly three words together.” Wesley preached, at the desire of the prisoners, near the prison door, so that the inmates might hear him. He went to church, and heard “a lively, useful sermon”; but, naturally enough, shocked one of the Methodists who asked him “to go to the meeting,” by saying, “I never go to a meeting.” “He seemed,” says he, “as much astonished as the old Scot, at Newcastle, who left us because we were Church of England men. We are so; although we condemn none who have been brought up in another way.” So Wesley salved his conscience, and feebly tried to free himself from the charge of bigotry.

On the 4th of August, he got back to Dublin, and, on the 10th, set sail, with three of his preachers, Walsh, Haughton, and Morgan, for England, having spent nineteen weeks in the sister island.

Preaching, on his way, at Chester, Bolton, Manchester, Chelmerton, Wednesbury, and other places, he arrived in Bristol on August 25, and held a conference with about fifty of his preachers. The rules of the society were “read, and carefully considered one by one; and all agreed to abide by them all, and to recommend them with all their might.” The rules of the bands were similarly considered, and, after making some verbal alterations, all consented to observe and to enforce them. The rules of Kingswood school were also reviewed, and were pronounced “agreeable to Scripture and reason.” It was also determined to begin a subscription for the school in every place; and, if needful, to make a collection every year.

The principal point discussed was the same as that which occupied so much of the time and attention of the conference of 1755. Wesley writes: “We largely considered the necessity of keeping in the Church, and using the clergy with tenderness; and there was no dissenting voice. God gave us all to be of one mind and of one judgment. My brother and I closed the conference by a solemn declaration of our purpose never to separate from the Church; and all our brethren concurred therein.”

This, among the Methodists, was the great question of the day, and deserves the reader’s best attention. “The attempt to force the Methodists to an attendance upon the services of the Church, by refusing to them the sacraments from their own preachers, and by closing their chapels during the sabbath, except early in the morning, and in the evening, drove many of them into a state of actual separation both from the Church and their own societies, and placed them in the hands of Dissenters. At Leeds, Mr. Edwards had assumed the character of an independent minister, as Charles Skelton had done in London, and had drawn away the greater part of the society with him.”[268]

Besides this, Edward Perronet, a man of great wit, had published a withering satire on the national Establishment, entitled “The Mitre,” 12mo, 279 pages. As the book was suppressed by Wesley,[269] and is now so extremely scarce, that perhaps not more than a dozen copies can be found,[270] the following selection, from the concluding verses of the first canto, may be acceptable, and may serve to suggest an idea of all the others. They are intended to describe the Established Church.

“To what compare thy fertile womb? A den, a cavern, or the tomb? Why not compare to all? Dark, hollow, teeming, large and deep; Or wild, or dead, or fast asleep; And stubborn as a wall.

Or like a mart, high vending place; Open for every age and face, Who loiter, steal, or range: Or, like the common road or street, Where knaves, as honest, walk or meet; As Albion’s grand Exchange.

In short, thou’rt like a common shore, Filling and emptying, never pure From pride, or pomp, or sin: That, (speak they truth who say they know,) With all thy scavengers can do, They cannot keep thee clean.”

The second canto, which consists of 363 stanzas, is devoted to the Church’s “Divine right” to take tithes, and to enact, and to enforce laws, in reference to Easter dues, leases, etc.; to impose creeds; to preach; and to give sacraments. The following are the second and third verses.

“This sprite unseen, whence does it spring? Is it a beggar or a king? Or vile hermaphrodite? To me this seems to be its sex; It sometimes asks, and sometimes takes, Careless of wrong or right.

I think its source is easy traced, As are its claims in order placed, Its furniture and crests; A blended spawn of Church and State, Its father—Constantine the Great, Its dam—the pride of priests.”

The third canto is principally devoted to preachers and preaching; the fourth to christenings, confirmations, Church emoluments, the Lisbon earthquake, and England’s danger. No one will agree with all the author’s sentiments; but all must admit the pungency and power of his withering wit.

Space forbids the insertion of lengthened extracts from Edward Perronet’s suppressed production; but the following are fair specimens of its style and spirit. To express the indignation and disgust of a Churchman at the thought of receiving the sacrament from a lay preacher, whose call to preach is as much Divine as is that of the preacher episcopally ordained, the poet writes,—

“What, take the ordinance from them! O, what a frenzy of a dream! Nor deacon nor a priest! Sooner renounce our grace or friends, Than take it from their fingers’ ends! A lay, unhallowed beast!”

Perronet, in a note, denounces the doctrine of the Lord’s supper being “a sacrifice”; and says, so long as this delusion is maintained, the sacrament must be administered by priests, and by priests only. He writes: “only reduce this simple institution to its primitive and scriptural standard, and then, a handful of private individuals, or a single family, may communicate, as the Christians did of old, and the sacrament (so called) become, once more, literally, a daily sacrifice of prayer and thanksgiving.” (Page 128.)

In another note (page 235), after referring to a book entitled, “The Dissenting Gentleman’s Answer to the Rev. Mr. White,” he says: “I was born, and am like to die in the tottering communion of the Church of England; but I despise her nonsense; and thank God, that I have once read a book, that no fool can answer, and that no honest man will.” He then proceeds to pronounce the Church’s doom. The reader must be satisfied with two stanzas only.

“Permit me to foretell thy doom, (Which has in part been that of Rome,) Thou wilt be clean abhorred: The nation will expose thy shame, Cast out as dung thy putrid name, The vengeance of the Lord!

For while her orders, and her rules, Are made the standard of thy schools, And all beside of blame: What other portion canst thou hope, But that the wise should give thee up, Her ape—without her name?”

The book throughout is written in the same severe,—almost savage style. Remembering this; and also remembering, that numbers of Methodists had already turned Dissenters; and that separation from the Church of England was still the great question agitating the Methodistic mind; no wonder that the subject was re-discussed in the conference of 1756, and that a most important correspondence followed.

While in Ireland, Wesley wrote to a clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Clark, of Hollymount,[271] in the following terms.

“CASTLEBAR, July 3, 1756.

“REVEREND SIR,—I still believe the episcopal form of church government to be scriptural and apostolical. I mean, well agreeing with the practice and writings of the apostles. But, that it is prescribed in Scripture, I do not believe. This opinion, which I once zealously espoused, I have been heartily ashamed of, ever since I read Bishop Stillingfleet’s ‘Irenicon.’ I think he has unanswerably proved, that neither Christ nor His apostles prescribe any particular form of church government; and, that the plea of Divine right for diocesan episcopacy was never heard of in the primitive church.

“As to heresy and schism, I cannot find one text in the Bible, where they are taken in the modern sense. I remember no one scripture, wherein heresy signifies ‘error in opinion,’ whether fundamental or not; nor any, wherein schism signifies a ‘separation from the church,’ whether with cause or without. I wish, sir, you would reconsider this point, and review the scriptures wherein those terms occur.

“I would take some pains to recover any one from error, or to reconcile him to our church, I mean, to the Church of England; from which I do not separate yet, and probably never shall; but I would take much more pains to recover any one from sin. One who lives and dies in error, or in dissent from our church, may yet be saved: but one who lives and dies in sin, must perish. I would to God, we could all agree both in opinions and outward worship; but, if this cannot be, may we not agree in holiness? This is the great desire of, reverend sir, your very humble servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[272]

Nineteen days before the Bristol conference was opened, Charles Wesley addressed the following to the Rev. Samuel Walker, of Truro.

“BRISTOL, August 7, 1756.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—My brother is coming hither to a conference with his preachers. Another letter from you might, by the blessing of God, confirm him in his calling. He seems resolved to temporize with them no longer. Mr. Grimshaw is coming to strengthen his hands. We shall have a private conference before the general one.

“I should have broken off from the Methodists and my brother, in 1752, but for the agreement.[273] I think every preacher should sign that agreement, or leave us. What I desire of my brother is:—1. That the unsound, unrecoverable preachers should be let depart just now. 2. That the wavering should be confirmed, if possible, and established in their calling. 3. That the sound ones should be received into the strictest union and confidence, and, as soon as may be, prepared for orders.

“To this end, my brother ought, in my judgment, to declare and avow, in the strongest and most explicit manner, his resolution to live and die in the communion of the Church of England. (1) To take all proper pains to instruct and ground both his preachers and his flock, in the same: a treatise is much wanting on this subject, which he might write and spread through all his societies. (2) To wait with me on the archbishop, who has desired to see him, and tell him our whole design. (3) To advise, as far as they think proper, with such of our brethren the clergy as know the truth, and do nothing without their approbation.

“I was advised long ago, by Lady Huntingdon, to write you on this subject, but could not do it till now. Your concern for the cause of God will, I doubt not, induce you to do all you can to promote it, and to hinder the work from being destroyed; although it would not be destroyed (as I often tell the Methodists) even if they all desert it, and turn aside to vain sectarian janglings. Remember at the throne of grace, dear sir, your meanest fellow servant,

“CHARLES WESLEY.”[274]

The above was confidential. Mr. Walker treated it as such; and, nine days afterwards, not only wrote a long letter to Wesley himself, which will be noticed shortly, but also a long reply to Charles. The following are extracts.

“August 16, 1756.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—I am greatly concerned about the issue of the conference your brother is to have with his lay preachers. We had a short correspondence on that head last winter, wherein I saw he was greatly pushed by his preachers, unwilling to part with them, and yet not caring to part from the Church of England.

“Lay preachers, being contrary to the constitution of the Church of England, are, as far as that point goes, a separation from it. It is quite another question, whether lay preachers be agreeable to the appointment of the Spirit respecting the ministry. The matter is not, whether lay preachers be needful, or what their calling may be. Be the one and the other as it will, the thing is plainly inconsistent with the discipline of the Church of England; and so, in one essential point, setting up a church within her, which cannot be of her. When, therefore, it is asked, shall we separate from the Church of England? it should rather be asked, shall we make the separation, we have begun, a separation in all forms? And if we do not think ourselves allowed to do this, shall we unite with her? We do not, unless lay preaching is laid aside.

“Yourselves must judge of the call and necessity of lay preachers, and whether that, or anything beside, may justify a separation. Meantime, there is a continual bar kept up between you and any regular clergyman, who cannot in conscience fall in with this measure. The most he can do is not to forbid them; he cannot take them by the hand. And so there must be two disunited ministrations of the word in the same place, by people who yet do call themselves of the Church of England.

“After all these considerations, might not an expedient be found out which might correspond with the word of God and the Church of England; and, at the same time, both remove all objections, and render the body of Methodists more useful? I have long and often thought of such a thing. My scheme is this. 1. That as many of the lay preachers as are fit for, and can be procured, ordination, be ordained. 2. That those who remain be not allowed to preach, but be set as inspectors over the societies, and assistants to them. 3. That they be not moved from place to place, to the end they may be personally acquainted with all the members of such societies. 4. That their business may be to purge and edify the societies under their care, to the end that no person be continued a member, whose conversation is not orderly and of good report.

“If this should be made an objection, that hereby lay preachers would be prevented from preaching abroad, and so much good be put a stop to, I would suggest it to be inquired into, whether this lay preaching hath been so much to the honour or interest of religion or Methodism as may be supposed? I remember, when it first began, I said and thought lay preaching would be the ruin of Methodism.

“The archbishop is greatly to be commended for his labours after peace; and, without question, if the measures are obtained which you desire, it will be very desirable he be waited on, and informed of them. But this must be done with fear, lest the leaders among you, being taken notice of by such great ones, do abate their zeal. Especially, it would be capable of a very bad interpretation, should any of them be advanced to considerable preferment.

“To my thinking, you will not gain much by getting the preachers to subscribe the agreement of March 10, 1752. If things are left as they are, they will break out at last, nor can anything less be expected at your brothers death, which is an event at no great distance, in all human appearance. Or should he live, still the evil is unremoved.

“I am yours, etc.,

“SAMUEL WALKER.”[275]

In his letter to Wesley himself, Mr. Walker urges him to do something decisive in the way of putting Methodism on a footing that will “render it more serviceable to the church of Christ, and the Church of England.” He propounds the plan detailed in his letter to Charles Wesley. He wishes him, at the approaching conference: (1) To declare himself as satisfied concerning the unlawfulness of separation from the Church of England, and as fully determined to dispute that matter no more with any who dissented from his opinion; (2) to act with vigour, in requiring his preachers to declare themselves, suffering such to depart as declined to concur with him, and to make all his societies acquainted with the action he had taken. He adds: “Delays will make matters worse. The disaffected will grow upon you, corrupt others, and imagine you are afraid of them; while also, in so unsettled a state of things, nothing can go forward; the enemy has advantage; and the interests of vital religion must suffer.” He concludes by requesting that the business “be so conducted as to give no offence to Dissenters of any denomination, lest unadvisedly old disputes and party heats should be revived.”[276]

Before his brother’s arrival in Bristol, Charles Wesley replied to Mr. Walker, as follows.

“BRISTOL, August 21, 1756.

“DEAR SIR,—Your last brings a blessing with it. I hope to consider it fully with my brother, who is expected every hour.

“Lay preaching, it is allowed, is a partial separation, and may, but need not, end in a total one. The probability of it has made me tremble for years past, and kept me from leaving the Methodists. I stay not so much to do good, as to prevent evil. I stand in the way of my brother’s violent counsellors, the object of both their fear and hate.

“The regulations you propose are the same in substance which I have been long contending for in vain. I know my brother will not hear of laying aside his lay preachers in so many words. All I can desire of him, to begin, is: (1) To cut off all their hopes of his leaving the Church of England; (2) to put a stop to any more new preachers, till he has entirely regulated, disciplined, and secured the old ones. If he wavers still, and trims between the Church and them, I know not what to do. As yet, it is in his power, if he exert himself, to stop the evil. But I fear he will never have another opportunity. The tide will be too strong for him, and bear him away into the gulf of separation. Must I not, therefore, enter my protest and give up the preachers formally to him? Hoc Ithacus volit, and they impatiently wait for it. The restless pains of bad men, to thrust me out from the Methodists, seem a plain argument for my continuing with them. I want light, and would have no will of my own, but prove what is that good and perfect will of God. Continue your prayers for, dear sir, your sincere, though weak and despised brother,

“CHARLES WESLEY.”[277]

Wesley arrived; the conference was held; and, a few days afterwards, the following sensible and Christian letter was sent to Mr. Walker.

“KINGSWOOD, September 3, 1756.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—I have one point in view, to promote, so far as I am able, vital, practical religion. On this single principle, I have hitherto proceeded, and taken no step but in subservience to it. With this view, when I found it to be absolutely necessary for the continuance of the work which God had begun in many souls, and which their regular pastors generally used all possible means to destroy, I permitted several of their brethren, whom I believed God had called thereto, and qualified for the work, to comfort, exhort, and instruct those who were athirst for God, or who walked in the light of His countenance. But, as the persons so qualified were few, and those who wanted their assistance very many, it followed, that most of these were obliged to travel continually from place to place; and this occasioned several regulations from time to time, which were chiefly made in our conferences.

“So great a blessing has, from the beginning, attended the labour of these itinerants, that we have been more and more convinced, every year, of the more than lawfulness of this proceeding. And the inconveniences, most of which we foresaw from the very first, have been both fewer and smaller than were expected. Rarely two in one year, out of the whole number of preachers, have either separated themselves or been rejected by us. A great majority have all along behaved as becometh the gospel of Christ; and, I am clearly persuaded, still desire nothing more than to spend and be spent for their brethren.

“‘How these may be settled on such a footing, as one might wish they might be after my death,’ is a weighty point, and has taken up many of my thoughts for several years; but I know nothing yet. The steps I am now to take are plain. I see broad light shining upon them; but the other part of the prospect I cannot see; clouds and darkness rest upon it. ‘To follow my own conscience, without any regard to consequences, or prudence, so called,’ is a rule which I have closely followed for many years, and hope to follow to my life’s end.

“The first of your particular advices is, ‘to keep in full view the interest of Christ’s church in general, and of practical religion; not considering the Church of England, or the cause of Methodism, but as subordinate thereto.’ This advice I have punctually observed from the beginning, as well as at our late conference. You advise, (2) ‘to keep in view the unlawfulness of a separation from the Church of England.’ To this likewise I agree. It cannot be lawful to separate from it, unless it be unlawful to continue in it. You advise, (3) ‘fully to declare myself on this head, and to suffer no dispute concerning it.’ The very same thing I wrote to my brother from Ireland. And we have declared ourselves without reserve. Nor was there any at the conference otherwise minded; those who would have aimed at dispute had left us before. All our preachers, as well as ourselves, purpose to continue in the Church of England. Nor did they ever before so freely and explicitly declare themselves on this subject.

“Your last advice is, ‘that as many of our preachers as are fit for it, be ordained; and that the others be fixed to certain societies, not as preachers, but as readers or inspectors.’

“You oblige me by speaking your sentiments so plainly: with the same plainness I will answer. So far as I know myself, I have no more concern for the reputation of Methodism, than for the reputation of Prester John.

“Is that which you propose a better way? This should be coolly and calmly considered.

“If I mistake not, there are now in Cornwall about four and thirty of these societies, part of whom now experience the love of God; part are more or less earnestly seeking it. Four preachers,—Peter Jaco, Thomas Johnson, W. Crabb, and William Allwood,—design, for the ensuing year, partly to call other sinners to repentance, but chiefly to guide and feed those few feeble sheep.

“Now suppose, that we can effect, that Peter Jaco and Thomas Johnson be ordained and settled in the curacies of Buryan and St. Just; and suppose William Crabb and William Allwood fix at Launceston and the Dock, as readers and exhorters; will this answer the end I have in view, so well as travelling through the county?

“It will not answer it so well, even with regard to those societies with whom Peter Jaco and Thomas Johnson have settled. Be their talents ever so great, they will, ere long, grow dead themselves, and so will most of those that hear them. I know, were I myself to preach one whole year in one place, I should preach both myself and most of my congregation asleep. Nor can I ever believe, it was ever the will of our Lord, that any congregation should have one teacher only. We have found, by long and constant experience, that a frequent change of teachers is best. This preacher has one talent, that another. No one, whom I ever knew, has all the talents which are needful for beginning, continuing, and perfecting the work of grace in a whole congregation.

“But suppose this would better answer the end with regard to those two societies, would it answer in those where William Allwood and William Crabb were settled as inspectors or readers? First, who shall feed them with the milk of the word? The ministers of their parishes? Alas, they cannot: they themselves neither know, nor live, nor teach the gospel. These readers? Can then either they, or I, or you, always find something to read our congregation, which will be as exactly adapted to their wants, and as much blessed to them, as our preaching? And here is another difficulty still: what authority have I to forbid their doing what I believe God has called them to do? I apprehend, indeed, that there ought, if possible, to be both an outward and inward call to this work; yet, if one of the two be supposed wanting, I had rather want the outward than the inward call. I rejoice, that I am called to preach the gospel both by God and man. Yet, I acknowledge, I had rather have the Divine without the human, than the human without the Divine call.

“But waiving this, and supposing these four societies to be better provided for than they were before, what becomes of the other thirty? Will they prosper as well when they are left as sheep without a shepherd? The experiment has been tried again and again, and always with the same event; even the strong in faith grew weak and faint; many of the weak made shipwreck of faith; the awakened fell asleep; and sinners, changed for a while, returned as a dog to the vomit. And so, by our lack of service, many of the souls perished for whom Christ died. Now, had we willingly withdrawn our service from them, by voluntarily settling in one place, what account of this could we have given to the great Shepherd of all our souls?

“I cannot, therefore, see how any of those four preachers, or any others in like circumstances, can ever, while they have health and strength, ordained or unordained, fix in one place, without a grievous wound to their own conscience, and damage to the general work of God. Yet, I trust, I am open to conviction; and your further thoughts on this, or any subject, will be always acceptable to, reverend and dear sir, your very affectionate brother and fellow labourer,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[278]

Such a letter ought to have been conclusive. By its practical common sense, it demolishes the fanciful theory of Charles Wesley and his friend Walker. The matter, however, was far from being settled. Walker accused Wesley of timidity. “He is,” says he, in a letter to Charles Wesley, “hindered by his own fears, which give the preachers an advantage they could not otherwise possibly have. He sees the necessity of either laying the preachers aside, or making them a separate church; while also, on the one hand, his conscience will not digest separation; and, on the other, he has had too great a hand in setting them up, to think of pulling them down. It has been a great fault all along, to have made the low people of your council; and, if there be not power enough left in your brother’s hands to do as he sees fit, they will soon show him they will be their own masters.”[279]

Mr. Walker, on September 2, wrote to the Rev. Thomas Adam, rector of Wintringham, telling him that the affair had become exceedingly serious; and that, in his opinion, unless the lay preachers were laid aside, it would end in separation. He adds, that Charles Wesley might consent to their dismissal; but Wesley himself would not.[280]

Three weeks later, Adam replied to Walker in the following, not over charitable, terms.

“September 21, 1756.

“DEAR SIR,—Methodism, as to its external form, is such a deviation from the rule and constitution of the Church of England, that all attempts to render it consistent must be in vain. Lay preaching is a manifest irregularity, and would not be endured in any Christian society. To salve this sore, you say, let some of their lay preachers be ordained. But suppose they were, to what end would they be ordained? That they might still go on to preach in fields, or private houses, and hold separate meetings? This would be as great a breach upon the order of the Church as ever, and perhaps attended with greater inconveniences than their present practice. J. Wesley will not, cannot give up the point of lay preaching; it will be giving up all; he must cry peccavi, and his heart will hold him a tug before it comes to that. Upon the whole, my judgment is, that they have embarrassed themselves past recovery; and must either go on in their present form, or separate totally and openly. The latter, many think, would be more ingenuous than an underhand separation. I think you must e’en let the Methodists alone. I do not see what help you can afford them, consistently with their principles and your own. ‘Every plant,’ etc., should make us tremble on one side and the other.

“I am, reverend and dear sir,

“Your unworthy brother,

“THOS. ADAM.”[281]

Amid such difficulties, such friends, and such opponents, poor perplexed Wesley had to grope his way as he best could. For a time, the feverish anxiety of his brother somewhat subsided. Within a week after the conference, he wrote to Mr. Walker, his confidential, if not wise, adviser, as follows.

“BRISTOL, September 6, 1756.

“DEAR SIR,—Between forty and fifty, or almost all, our itinerant preachers were present at our conference. I have talked largely with each, some of whom I had not known before so much as by name. Mr. Venn, a clergyman, was with us the whole time. Since our last conference at Leeds, two or three of our preachers, of a froward unhumbled spirit, have left us. The rest, except two here and two in Ireland, are, I have good reason to believe, men of a single eye, and humble, teachable spirit. My brother seems farther from a separation than ever. This morning, he set out for London, to print a new edition of his Notes. He has also undertaken to write a treatise, to confirm the Methodists in the Church. Next Monday, I expect to set out for the north on the same errand. Continue your prayers for, dear sir, your weakest brother,

“CHARLES WESLEY.”[282]

On September 17, Charles Wesley started upon his northern mission. At Walbridge, he exhorted the forty-three members of the Methodist society “to continue steadfast in the communion of the Church of England.” At Cheltenham, he writes: “I did not forget to confirm the brethren in their calling; that is, to live and die in the Church of England.” At Sheffield, he “spake plainly and lovingly to the society of continuing in the Church; and, though many of them were Dissenters and predestinarians, none were offended.” At Rotherham, he says: “I plainly told the society, that ‘there is no salvation out of the church,’ that is, out of the mystical body of Christ, or the company of faithful people.” At Leeds, he tells us, the society “were unanimous to stay in the Church, because the Lord stays in it, and multiplies His witnesses therein, more than in any other church in Christendom.” At York, he writes: “I exhorted them to go to church, that they might be found of Jesus in the temple.” At Seacroft, where Grimshaw joined him, he “strongly exhorted the society to continue stedfast in fellowship with each other, and the whole Church of England.” At Heptonstall, he “warned them of the wiles of the devil, whereby he would draw them away from the church, and the other means of grace.” At Manchester, he challenged them “to show him one Methodist who had ever prospered by turning Dissenter.” While here, he also addressed his brother as follows.

“One thing might prevent, in great measure, the mischiefs which will probably ensue after our death; and that is, greater, much greater deliberation and care in admitting preachers. Ought any new preacher to be received before we know, that he is grounded, not only in the doctrines we teach, but in the discipline also, and, particularly, in the communion of the Church of England? Ought we not to try what he can answer a baptist, a quaker, a papist, as well as a predestinarian or Moravian? If we do not insist on that στοργη for our desolate mother as a pre-requisite, yet should we not be well assured, that the candidate is no enemy to the Church? Is it not our duty to stop J. C.” [Joseph Cownley?] “and such like, from railing and laughing at the Church? Should we not now, at least, shut the stable door? The short remainder of my life is devoted to this very thing, to follow our sons with buckets of water, to quench the flame of strife and division, which they have or may kindle.”

He also wrote, from the same place, to his friend Grimshaw, under date of October 29: “I could not leave this poor shattered society so soon as I proposed. They have not had fair play from our treacherous sons in the gospel. I have once more persuaded them to go to church and sacrament, and stay to carry them thither the next Lord’s day. Nothing but grace can keep our children, after our departure, from running into a thousand sects, a thousand errors.”

He likewise wrote to his “beloved brethren at Leeds, etc.,” as follows: “I knew beforehand, that the Sanballats and Tobiahs would be grieved when they heard there was a man come to seek the welfare of the Church of England. I expected they would pervert my words, as if I should say, ‘The Church could save you.’ But let not their slanders move you. Continue in the old ship. Jesus hath a favour for our Church, and is wonderfully visiting and reviving His work in her.”[283]

On November 6, he got back to Bristol, and, ten days later, sent the following furious letter to his brother—a letter now for the first time published.

“BRISTOL, November 16, 1756.

“Doubtless you guard in your ‘Preservative’ against that levelling, devilish, root and branch, spirit, which breathes in every line of the ‘Mitre.’ I kept my own thoughts till you imparted yours, with which I entirely agree. Only you do him too much honour by naming him with the Independent Whig. The religion of both is equal, but Ted exceeds in bitterness and malice beyond all comparison. Much wit I can see in the Independent Whig; but in the ‘Mitre’ none at all. Such insufferable dulness would surfeit every reader, but those whose hearts are as thoroughly corrupted as the writer’s. I marvel how he can look you or me in the face, after writing and propagating such a book; how he can pretend to be our fellow labourer! Notwithstanding his promise to us, at J. Jones’, he continues to spread his notions with his book. He does not sell, but gives it to our preachers and friends. One he made me the bearer of to York. I have heard none commend its wit, but Mrs. James, and Christopher Hopper, which convinces me nothing is too stupid to do hurt. Is it right or fair, that he should go on to poison our children, and wound us through the influence which we lend him? I love both him and Charles and the whole family. So you do, as we have abundantly shown. But must we, therefore, suffer this madman to cast firebrands, and to tear our flock to pieces? I know he is totally fallen from grace; and can I, ought I, ever to trust him till he is sensible of his fall? In my private capacity, I show him what love and civility I can, and intend to continue his friend, as far as he is capable of receiving good from me; but, as ministers of Christ, as guardians of this particular church, as fathers of the poor Methodists, what ought we to do? Let us first agree betwixt ourselves, and cut off all his hopes of ever coming between us. Then, whatever you say, or do, or judge, I say, do, and judge the same. Only, what we do, we must do quickly. You can better write than speak your mind. He stays here another week. Suppose you wrote him a letter (for me also to subscribe and deliver), and set before him some of the things which he hath done.

“1. He has set himself against us, almost from the beginning, counteracting us with our preachers, spiriting them up, poisoning, proselyting them to his own wretched notions.

“2. He has withstood the utmost efforts both you and I have used to make him our friend.

“3. He has stirred up persecution against us, and given such a wound to the cause as may never be healed. For of all the prejudices, bitterness, disaffection of both preachers and people, he is et caput et frons. Unless he says Joseph Cownley corrupted him, and he his brother Charles.

“4. To sum up all, and perpetuate his evil, he has sent forth his ‘Mitre,’ in open contradiction of all we have said, wrote, done from the beginning. If we say, the Church of Christ and England are but one, he says, the Church of Rome and England are but one. If we condemn lay administering, he attempts to justify and prove it. What Charles told Dr. Tucker, that he had not one sentiment in common with the Church of England, Ted might say with equal truth.

“At Canterbury, I saw our Sacrament Hymns, which Ted has scratched out and blotted, hardly leaving twenty entire lines. How can two walk together except they be agreed? How can he pretend to labour with us? He has no power over his own will or words. If, in a relenting fit, he promises us to be quiet, his vanity soon betrays him again into his old spirit and conversation.

“Let us try, with the help of God, whether we cannot hinder his doing further mischief. Things are come to this, that we must conquer or be conquered. My advice is: 1. That you write and insist upon his keeping his promise to us, by calling in and destroying his book. If he will part with that right eye, we may have some hope of him. 2. That he settle to something. He is unwilling to break with us—(1) Because he still in some sort loves us; (2) because he comes recommended by us to all our friends. But his own soul can never recover while he wanders from house to house in such a lounging way of life. Therefore, let him go home to his wife, and do as much good and as little harm as he can at Canterbury. Poor Mr. Lepine he had almost assimilated. I hope your late visit has set him right. I will join you in your kindest treatment of him; but make him not your companion or counsellor. Keep your absolute superiority, by steady, serious love. The same behaviour might suit his brother also. I have much more to say, but time and paper fail. When do you expect that your Notes will be out? I am half choked with a cold, yet setting out for the country. Farewell!

CHARLES WESLEY.”

“To Mr. Windsor, in King Street, Tower Hill, London, for J. W. with speed.”

Thus was Wesley badgered. It certainly was strange, that one of the fiercest attacks upon the Church of England, ever published, should be written by a Methodist itinerant preacher; and that the preacher should be the son of a man, who, at one time at least, was Wesley’s most confidential friend, Vincent Perronet; and further, that the writer should have lived on terms of the greatest intimacy with both Wesley and his brother. The book contains not a little which cannot be commended; but Charles Wesley’s opinion of its dulness and want of wit is preposterously opposed to fact. Charles was in a terrible fever of Church of England excitement; and all that he said and did, at this momentous period of Methodistic history, must be taken cum grano salis. Why Vincent Perronet was not consulted in these grave affairs we are left to guess.

Charles Wesley was most anxious to have the present preachers ordained, or otherwise attached to settled societies; and also to stop the employment of additional itinerants, or, at all events, without subjecting them to a most searching ordeal. On the other hand, his brother continued to employ them as usual; and, during this very year of 1756, called to the itinerant work five fresh labourers—William Allwood, John Catermole, Robert Gillespy, Thomas Greaves, and Matthew Lowes; while the only ones who left him were John Haughton, John Maddern, and James Morris.[284] Many, indeed most, of his preachers were without learning, but not without sense. They were thoroughly converted; and, though destitute of other knowledge, knew the Scriptures, and how to teach the gospel plan of salvation. In a letter, written at the close of the Bristol conference, Wesley says:—

“BRISTOL, August 31, 1756.

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