Part II (part 1 of 2)

Part II (part 1 of 2)

1739.

[Sidenote: 1739 Age 36]

London in 1739 was widely different from what it is at present. The population, including Westminster and all the parishes within the Bills of Mortality, was about 600,000, or a fifth of the population now. London Bridge was the only highway across the majestic Thames that the Londoners possessed; and that was covered with antique houses, from end to end, forming a sort of picturesque extension of Gracechurch Street, from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore,—a narrow, darksome, and dangerous thoroughfare with an arched gateway at each end of it, generally bristling with spikes, and often adorned with the heads of traitors. The site of the present Mansion House was a fruit market, having on one side of it a row of shady trees and on the other a conduit, surmounted by an equestrian statue of King Charles II. Islington, Hoxton, Hackney, and Bethnal Green were country villages. On the Surrey side, all beyond the King’s Bench prison was fields and open country. The Elephant and Castle stands where the small hamlet of Newington then stood. Walworth, Camberwell, Brixton, Peckham, and Clapham were rural haunts, far from the hum and noise of the great city. Even Lambeth was a vast conglomerated garden, extending from Kennington Common to what is now Westminster Bridge. Eastward—Blackwall, Poplar, Bow, and Stepney were somewhat distant collections of scattered houses, surrounded respectively by fields and gardens. Westward—Chelsea, Knightsbridge, Marylebone, and Tottenham Court were all in open country. Even Belgravia was a farm of arable and pasture land; while all the space, between Westminster and what is now Vauxhall Bridge, was a dreary tract of stunted, dusty, trodden grass, the resort of badgerbaiters and other rampant blackguards, and known by the name of Tothill Fields.

Moorfields, the scene of Wesley’s earliest evangelistic labours, and where he opened his Foundery meeting-house, was what would now-a-days be called a park, laid out in grass plots, intersected by broad gravel walks, and the favourite resort of citizens seeking exercise and recreation. Beneath a row of well grown elms was what the promenaders designated “the city mall,” and which in the smartness of its company often rivalled the mall of St. James’s Park. Here might be seen wives and daughters flaunting in all their finery and displaying their charms to city maccaronis, whose hats were cocked diagonally, and who gave themselves quite as many airs as the aristocratic coxcombs in the royal grounds. Under the trees were booths, whose fans, toys, trinkets, and confectionery found ready purchasers; while on the grass plots were erected mountebank diversions for the amusement of the people.

What a contrast between London then and London now! And yet, even then, London was thought to be dangerously too large. An able writer, in one of the magazines for 1762, argued that great cities are perilous to a nation’s welfare; and in proof quoted Nineveh, Babylon, Persepolis, Tyre, Carthage, Rome, Athens, Memphis, Baalbec, Palmyra, Thebes, Jerusalem, etc. He contended that it was pernicious policy to suffer the eighth part of an entire nation to live in one crowded town; for when so many myriads lived on ground which produced nothing they were under the necessity of living by their wits—that is, by sharping and over-reaching, and by inventing idle and vicious amusements. Hence it was that in London there was such a multiplication of playhouses, operas, ridottos, and masquerades; and that almost one-half of some of the London parishes was converted into brothels by bawds and pimps. The anonymous alarmist was doubtless treated with contempt, but his theory deserves attention.

London was great, but it was wicked. And no wonder. Riches in the case of nations, as in the case of individuals, often lead to extravagance and luxury. Thus it was in England, in the reign of the second George. Superb edifices rose up on every hand, almost vieing with the palaces of princes. Carriages, glittering with gold and crystal, rattled over city pavements with the utmost ostentation. Ridottos, balls, masquerades, and midnight banquets, were of constant occurrence. Every night innumerable lamps illuminated public gardens, where hosts of fashionable and licentious fops might be seen lolling in gilded alcoves, killing time, and lulling their senses into an indolent oblivion. Arrayed in masks and the strangest dresses, gamblers, actors, and prostitutes mingled with persons of riches and of rank, and, amid the din of music and of dancing, conversed obscene discourse, and whispered indecent slanders. All classes caught the contagion, and even the tables of shopkeepers and mechanics were covered with costly dainties. Clerks and apprentices, servant-maids and cooks, decked themselves in apparel equal to that of their masters and mistresses; and finical sparks deemed it their privilege and right to frequent taverns, clubs, and theatres, adorned with the finest clothes, perukes, and jewellery.

What resulted from all this? Extravagance created greater wants than the people had means to meet. Patrimonial estates, and the gains of honest business were not enough to satisfy newly engendered appetites; and hence men appealed to an infernal sorceress, to correct, forsooth, the errors made in distributing the gifts of Providence. To eke out means which were found too scanty to gratify licentious and luxurious passions, robbery was made polite, and gambling an every day duty. Idleness threw the dice, and Folly built them into castles; Avarice clutched at gold, but Fraud, with a sly and quick conveyance, snatched it from his hand. Even ladies laid wagers at home, while their lords gambled abroad; and dice began to rattle on the costermonger’s barrow as well as upon the hazard tables of the noble and the rich. Money was looked upon as omnipotent; and the more men got the more they wanted, and especially when it was spent upon their own indulgences. An avaricious, mercenary spirit became general, and chiefly for the sake of vain display and sensual pleasures.

Poverty treads in the footsteps of extravagance. There were more equipages kept, and yet more taxes for the poor imposed; more diversions, and yet more want; more ladies of taste, and yet fewer housewives; more pomp, and yet less hospitality; more expense, and yet less frugality. In 1744, the grand jury of the county of Middlesex made a presentment to the effect, that “the advertisements in the newspapers were seducing the people to places for the encouragement of luxury, extravagance, and idleness; and that, by this means, families were ruined, and the kingdom dishonoured; and that, unless some superior authority put a stop to such riotous living, they feared it would lead to the destruction of the nation.”

The town abounded with men who regarded honour, honesty, and virtue as the merest phantoms;—men with whom promises were not binding, obligations were nullities, and impudence a duty;—dastards who might slander their neighbours, ridicule their superiors, be saucy to their equals, insolent to their inferiors, and abusive to all; to-day spaniels, to-morrow bullies, and at all times cowards; to whom learning was a burden, and books were baubles; vice being their delight, and virtue their aversion; demons in disguise, all order and symmetry without, and yet all rancour and rottenness within.

The country was an apt imitator of the vices of the town. There the squire, having, by idleness and bad company, forgotten the little learning he acquired at college, too often devoted himself to drinking and debauchery; while the common people were ignorant, superstitious, brutal, and bad behaved. Workmen entered into combinations to extort higher wages than their labour merited, or than their masters could afford; and even parliament had to pass enactments limiting the salaries of tailors. Smuggling was enormous; and, in 1744, it was calculated that, in the county of Suffolk only, not fewer than 4,500 horses were employed in carrying merchandise of a contraband character.

This dark picture might easily be enlarged, not from posterior writings, or even from the religious publications of the period, but from periodicals, magazines, and newspapers, which had no temptation to represent the customs, manners, usages, and vices of the age in a worse aspect than was warranted by facts. Wesley, as will be seen hereafter, used strong and startling language; but there is nothing in Wesley’s writings which exceeds the hideous delineations found in the popular literature published contemporaneously by other impartial and mere worldly writers, who are above suspicion. The Weekly Miscellany for 1732 broadly asserts that the people were engulfed in voluptuousness and business; and that a zeal for godliness looked as odd upon a man as would the antiquated dress of his great grandfather. It states that freethinkers were formed into clubs, to propagate their tenets, and to make the nation a race of profligates; and that atheism was scattered broadcast throughout the kingdom. It affirms that it was publicly avowed that vice was profitable to the state; that the country would be benefited by the establishment of public stews; and that polygamy, concubinage, and even sodomy were not sinful.

In many respects the reign of the second George bore a striking resemblance to the present day. There was unexampled wealth, followed by luxury, display, dissipation, gambling, irreligion, and wickedness. The pastoral letters of Bishop Gibson, published at this period, show that most pernicious efforts were put forth to undermine religion, and to make men infidels. One class of writers laboured to set aside all Christian ordinances, the Christian ministry, and a Christian church. Another so allegorized the meaning of the miracles of Christ, as to take away their reality. Others displayed the utmost zeal for natural religion in opposition to revealed; and all, or most, under the pretence of pleading for the liberties of men, ran into the wildest licentiousness. Reason was recommended as a full and sufficient guide in matters of religion, and the Scriptures were to be believed only as they agreed or disagreed with the light of nature.

The same causes give birth to the same effects. Things reproduce themselves. The words of Solomon are as truthful now as when he wrote them,—“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.”

By reviving religion, Methodism saved the nation more than a hundred years ago; and now that the nation presents the same aspect, to a great extent, as it presented then, and is threatened with the same disasters, is it not certain that nothing but an agency analogous to the Methodism then raised up will be found sufficient to check the progress of antiquated errors now revived; to stem the aboundings of licentiousness; and to make men feel that wealth is given, not to be spent in display and luxury, but in honouring God, and in promoting the happiness of the human race?

The revival of religion, which occurred about the time when Methodism commenced its marvellous career, was a world-wide one.

The Moravian movement in Germany has been already noticed.

In America, the work began in 1729, the very year in which the Oxford Methodists formed their first society. The Rev. Jonathan Edwards fanned the fire into a holy flame by preaching the grand old doctrine of “justification by faith alone.” In the town of Northampton, New England, containing two hundred families, there was scarcely a single person at the beginning of the year 1735 who was not deeply convinced of sin, and earnestly seeking salvation; and from day to day, for months, there were undeniable instances of genuine conversion. Almost every house was a house of prayer, and, in all companies, Christ was the theme of public conversation. The revival which commenced at Northampton spread throughout the greater part of the colony. All sorts of people,—high and low, rich and poor, wise and unwise, moral and immoral,—simultaneously became the subjects of the Spirit’s strivings, and were converted. This remarkable movement took place only a few months before Wesley set sail for Georgia, and continued for several years afterwards. Mr. Edwards published a narrative of its most striking incidents; and also his “Thoughts” as to “the way in which it ought to be acknowledged and promoted;” and from these two invaluable treatises we collect the following facts.

In many instances, conviction of sin and conversion were attended with intense physical excitement. Numbers fell prostrate on the ground, and cried aloud for mercy. The bodies of others were convulsed and benumbed. As chaos preceded creation, so in New England confusion went before conversion. The work was great and glorious, but was accompanied with noise and tumult. Men literally cried for mercy; but the loudest outcries were not so loud as the shrieks of Voltaire or Volney, when the prospect of eternity unmanned them. Stout-hearted sinners trembled; but not more than philosophers at the present day would do, if they had equally vivid views of the torments of the damned to which sin exposes them. There were groanings and faintings; transports and ecstasies; zeal sometimes more fervid than discreet; and passion not unfrequently more powerful than pious; but, from one end of the land to the other, multitudes of vain thoughtless sinners were unmistakably converted, and were made new creatures in Christ Jesus. Frolicking, night walking, singing lewd songs, tavern haunting, profane speaking, and extravagance in dress, were generally abandoned. The talk of the people was about the favour of God, an interest in Christ, a sanctified heart, and spiritual blessedness here and hereafter. The country was full of meetings of persons of all sorts and ages to read, pray, and sing praises. Oftentimes the people were wrought up into the highest transports of love, joy, and admiration, and had such views of the Divine perfections, and the excellencies of Christ, that, for five or six hours together, their souls reposed in a kind of sacred elysium, until the body seemed to sink beneath the weight of Divine discoveries, and nature was deprived of all ability to stand or speak. Connected with all this, there were no enthusiastic impulses, or supposed revelations, but trembling reverence, the mildest meekness, and warmest charity. To use Edwards’ own language, “The New Jerusalem, in this respect, had begun to come down from heaven, and perhaps never were more of the prelibations of heaven’s glory given upon earth.”

Of course there were men who opposed and maligned this blessed work of God’s Holy Spirit; or, at all events, did their utmost to discredit it by exposing, as they thought, the infirmities of those who were the chief agents used in promoting it. Ministers were blamed for their earnestness in voice and gesture, and for addressing themselves rather to the passions of their hearers than their reason. Others were censured for preaching the terrors of the law too frequently, and for frightening the people with hell-fire discourses. Objections were raised against so much time being spent in religious meetings; though the objectors had been significantly silent when the selfsame persons had formerly spent quite as much time, and even more, in taverns, and in sinful pleasures. Some were disgusted at the new converts so passionately warning, inviting, and entreating others to be saved. Some found fault with so much singing, forgetting that singing is one of the great employments of the beatified in heaven; and others found equal fault with children being allowed to meet together to read and pray, thus, unintentionally perhaps, resembling the priests and scribes, who were sore displeased when the children saluted Christ by shouting “Hosannah in the highest!” Thus did men mutter discontent when they ought to have sung praises; and not a few fell into the sin of those in olden times, who said concerning Christ, “He casteth out devils by Beelzebub, the prince of devils.”

At the very time that this marvellous religious revival broke out in America, a similar work was begun in Wales. Howel Harris was born at Trevecca in 1714, and, a few months before the Wesleys went to Georgia, found the forgiveness of sins, and was made unutterably happy by a Divine assurance of his adoption into the family of God. The Wesleys, however, had no acquaintance with him, nor he with them. While they were on the ocean he left his home in Wales, and entered the university from which they had so recently departed; but here he was so distressed with collegiate immoralities, that, after keeping but a single term, he returned to his native hills, and, without orders, began at once to preach the salvation which he himself experienced. It is a curious fact, not generally noticed, that the first lay preacher, in the great Methodist movement, was Howel Harris. He commenced preaching in Wales just when the Wesleys and Ingham commenced in Georgia; and, before Wesley reached Bristol in 1739, had been the means of a most glorious work being wrought in the neighbouring principality. Up to this period the morals of the Welsh were deplorably corrupt; and in this respect there was no difference between rich and poor, ministers and people; gluttony, drunkenness, and licentiousness were general. In the pulpits of parish churches the name of Christ was hardly ever uttered; and, in 1736, there were only six Dissenting chapels throughout the whole of northern Wales.

Harris first commenced visiting from house to house in his own native parish, and in neighbouring ones. Then the people flocked together, and, almost without knowing it, he began to preach. The magistrates and clergy threatened him; but their threats failed to silence him. For a maintenance, he set up a school, and meantime continued preaching. Numbers were convinced of sin, and these the young preacher, only twenty-two years of age, formed into small societies analogous to those of which he had read in Dr. Woodward’s History. At the end of 1737, persecuting malice ejected him from his school; but, as in other instances so in this, it overshot its mark; for this, instead of silencing the preacher, made him preach more than ever. He now gave himself entirely to the work of an evangelist, and henceforth generally delivered three or four, and sometimes five or six, sermons every day to crowded congregations. A wide-spread reformation followed. Public diversions became unfashionable, and religion became the theme of common conversation. A few began to help him, of whom the venerable Rev. Griffith Jones was the most prominent. In 1737, this devoted clergyman instituted his movable free schools; and a letter published in the Glasgow Weekly History, of 1742, describes him as “one of the most excellent preachers in Great Britain.” Not a few of the teachers in his peripatetic schools became Methodist preachers; and certainly their travels as instructors, as well as his own preaching tours, prepared the way for the Methodist itinerant ministry.

Thus was Howel Harris an itinerant preacher at least a year and a half before Whitefield and Wesley were; and, as the brave-hearted herald of hundreds more who were to follow after him, he met the fiercest persecutions with an undaunted soul and an unflinching face. Parsons and country squires menaced him, and mobs swore and flung stones and sticks at him; but he calmly pursued his way, labouring almost alone in his own isolated sphere until he met with Whitefield in the town of Cardiff, in 1739. Whitefield says he found him “a burning and shining light; a barrier against profanity and immorality; and an indefatigable promoter of the gospel of Christ. During the last three years, he had preached almost twice every day, for three or four hours together; and, in his evangelistic tours, had visited seven counties, and had established nearly thirty societies; and still his sphere of action was enlarging daily.”

Almost contemporaneous with this marvellous work across the Atlantic and in Wales, was another across the Tweed, in Scotland. The facts following are taken from “A Faithful Narrative, written by James Robe, A.M., Minister of the Gospel at Kilsyth,” and printed in 1742.

For years past, there had been a sensible decay in the life and power of godliness in Scotland; but, in 1740, Mr. Robe began to preach upon the doctrine of regeneration. Meanwhile, a glorious revival of the work of God occurred at Cambuslang; and, on April 25, 1741, at Kilsyth. Sixteen children began to hold prayer-meetings in the town of Kirkintilloch, and the godly excitement became general. On every hand were heard cries, groans, and the voice of weeping. On the 16th of May, above thirty persons were awakened under the ministry of Mr. Robe, and, in a short time after, hundreds were converted in the country round about. Drunkenness, and swearing, and other flagrant sins were instantly abandoned; family worship was set up; meetings for prayer were established; and the people generally flocked to the house of God. Young converts held prayer-meetings in fields, barns, schoolhouses, and the manses of their ministers. Cambuslang, Kilsyth, Campsie, Kirkintilloch, Auchinloch, St. Ninians, Gargunnock, Calder, Badernock, Irvine, Long Dreghorn, Kilmarnock, Larbert, Dundee, Bothwell, Muthill, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and other towns, villages, and parishes were visited with a most gracious outpouring of God’s Holy Spirit; and scenes of mercy were witnessed quite as striking as those which were occurring simultaneously both in England and America. Not a few of the converts, about one sixth of the whole, suffered such distress of mind, and were under such powerful religious influence, that they not only cried and shrieked aloud, but trembled, fainted, and were convulsed in their bodies most mysteriously—exhibiting the same physical affections as the converts in New England; and this evoked considerable opposition, and led the Associate Presbytery at Dunfermline, to pronounce the movement a “delusion, and the work of the grand deceiver.” Some were seized with such trembling that their friends had to render them support. Many of the females went into hysterics. Numbers, on finding peace, broke forth into rapturous weeping, and had their countenances so lit up with serenity and brightness, that their neighbours declared they had obtained not only new hearts, but new faces. A few, but not many, professed to have visions of hell, of heaven, of the devil, and of Jesus.

The writer gives these facts as he finds them. Mr. Robe, in his narrative, extending over hundreds of pages, endeavours to show that such effects were not without precedents, and quotes a great number of similar instances which had occurred, in different places, from the time of the Reformation downwards. It is no part of our purpose either to explain, justify, or condemn them. We shall shortly find the same kind of effects following the preaching of Wesley in England. At present, the reader is merely reminded of the wondrous and glorious fact, that the great Methodist revival of religion, begun in 1739, stood not alone; for God, in His sovereign mercy, was working works quite as great in Germany, America, and Scotland. The revival in Germany gave birth to the heroic, martyr-like Moravian church. That in America greatly prepared the way for Whitefield, and for the first Methodist missionaries to that huge continent. That in Scotland revived the almost expiring piety of the kirk across the border; and, doubtless, greatly contributed to the devout and increasing energy and zeal evinced by the different churches there from that day to this. And that in Wales has issued in results equally remarkable. God the Spirit is omnipresent, and can give a universal revival of truth and godliness as easily as a local one. It is, also, a significant fact, of vast importance, that the whole of these great revivals were begun by preaching the same kind of truth. Christian David, the carpenter, begun the work in Moravia by preaching the doctrine of salvation by simple faith in Christ; and so did Jonathan Edwards in America. The revival at Kilsyth sprang out of Mr. Robe’s sermons on regeneration; and no one need be told that these were the doctrines which formed the staple of Wesley’s and Whitefield’s sermons in Great Britain. This is the truth pre-eminently needed by man, in all ages, and in all lands; and this is the truth which, wherever preached, is always honoured, by being made the means of man’s salvation.

At the close of the year 1738, Wesley was almost uniformly excluded from the pulpits of the Established Church. During the whole of 1739, the only churches in which he was allowed to preach, were Basingshaw, Islington, St. Giles’, and St. Katherine’s churches, London; and the churches at Dummer, Clifton, Runwick, and St. Mary’s in Exeter. The first two months of the year were spent in the metropolis; but, with the exception of expounding in a few private houses, Wesley had to content himself with preaching not more than half-a-dozen sermons. In the month of March, he set out for Oxford, and wrote the following hitherto unpublished letter to his friend Whitefield. The letter is long, but full of interest.

“March 16, 1739.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—On Thursday, the 8th instant, we breakfasted at Mr. Score’s, Oxford, who is patiently waiting for the salvation of God. Thence we went to Mrs. Campton’s, who has set her face as a flint. After we had spent some time in prayer, Mr. Washington came with Mr. Gibbs, and read several passages out of Bishop Patrick’s Parable of the Pilgrim, to prove that we were all under a delusion, and that we were to be justified by faith and works. Charles Metcalfe withstood him to the face. After they were gone, we again besought our Lord, that He would maintain His own cause. Meanwhile, Mr. Washington and Mr. Watson were going about to all parts, and confirming the unfaithful; and at seven, when I designed to expound at Mrs. Campton’s, Mr. Washington was got there before me, and was beginning to read Bishop Bull against the witness of the Spirit. He told me he was authorized by the minister of the parish to do this. I advised all who valued their souls to depart; and, perceiving it to be the less evil of the two, that they who remained might not be perverted, I entered directly into the controversy, touching both the cause and fruits of justification. In the midst of the dispute, James Mears’s wife began to be in pain. I prayed with her when Mr. Washington was gone; and then we went down to sister Thomas’s. In the way, Mrs. Mears’s agony so increased, that she could not avoid crying out aloud in the street. With much difficulty, we got her to Mrs. Shrieve’s, where God heard us, and sent her deliverance, and where her husband also was set at liberty soon after. Presently Mrs. Shrieve fell into a strange agony both of body and mind; her teeth gnashed together; her knees smote each other; and her whole body trembled exceedingly. We prayed on; and, within an hour, the storm ceased; and she now enjoys a sweet calm, having remission of sins, and knowing that her Redeemer liveth.

“At my return to Mrs. Fox’s, I found our dear brother Kinchin just come from Dummer. We rejoiced, and gave thanks, and prayed, and took sweet counsel together; the result of which was, that instead of setting out for London, as I designed, on Friday morning, I set out for Dummer, there being no person to supply the church on Sunday. At Reading I found a young man, Cennick by name, strong in the faith of our Lord Jesus. He had begun a society there the week before; but the minister of the parish had now well-nigh overturned it. Several of the members of it spent the evening with us, and it pleased God to strengthen and comfort them.

“On Saturday morning, our brother Cennick rode with me, whom I found willing to suffer, yea, to die for his Lord. We came to Dummer in the afternoon: Miss Molly was weak in body, but strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Surely her light ought not thus to be hid under a bushel. She has forgiveness, but not the witness of the Spirit; perhaps because our dear brother Kinchin seems to think them inseparable.

“On Sunday morning we had a large and attentive congregation. In the evening, the room at Basingstoke was full, and my mouth was opened. We expected much opposition, but had none at all.

“On Monday, Mrs. Cleminger being in pain and fear, we prayed, and her Lord gave her peace. About noon we spent an hour or two in conference and prayer with Miss Molly; and then set out in a glorious storm; but I had a calm within. We had appointed the little society at Reading to meet us in the evening; but the enemy was too vigilant. Almost as soon as we were out of the town, the minister sent, or went, to each of the members, and began arguing and threatening, and utterly confounded them, so that they were all scattered abroad. Mr. Cennick’s own sister did not dare to see us, but was gone out on purpose to avoid it.

“On Tuesday I came to Oxford again, and from Mrs. Fox’s went to Mrs. Campton’s. I found the minister of the parish had been there before me, to whom she had plainly declared, that she had never had a true faith in Christ till a week ago. After some warm and sharp expressions, he told her he must repel her from the holy communion. Finding she was not convinced, even by that argument, he left her calmly rejoicing in God her Saviour.

“At six in the evening, we were at Mrs. Fox’s society; about seven at Mrs. Campton’s: the power of the Lord was present at both, and all our hearts were knit together in love.

“The next day we had an opportunity to confirm most, if not all, the souls which had been shaken. In the afternoon, I preached at the Castle. We afterwards joined together in prayer, having now Charles Graves added to us, who is rooted and grounded in the faith. We then went to Mr. Gibbs’s room, where were Mr. Washington and Mr. Watson. Here an hour was spent in conference and prayer, but without any disputing. At four in the morning I left Oxford. God hath indeed planted and watered: O may He give the increase.

“I am, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

Thus did the expelled minister employ his time and energies. The churches were shut against him; but he found work in cottages. Half-a-dozen sermons in church pulpits in three months! No wonder that Wesley escaped to Bristol. Silence to such a man was intolerable. Priests and their parasites had gagged him in the metropolis, and he now started for a new sphere of labour.

His friend Whitefield, during the first five weeks of the year, was more fortunate, and managed to preach about thirty sermons in consecrated edifices in and about London. How long this permission might have lasted, it is difficult to determine; but, at the beginning of February, Whitefield, like a flaming seraph, set off to Bath and Bristol. Perhaps his departure thither was hastened by a fracas which occurred only three days before at St. Margaret’s, Westminster, where he yielded to the pressure of the crowd, and preached, despite the opposition of the minister and his church officers.[272] Be that as it may, the news of the disturbance, published in the Weekly Miscellany, got to the west of England before him; and, on his arrival, all the churches were closed against him. In a few days, however, Mr. Penrose granted him the pulpit of St. Werburgh’s; and Mr. Gibbs the pulpit of St. Mary Redcliff. The chancellor of Bristol interfered, and threatened that, if he continued to preach or expound in the diocese without licence, he should first be suspended and then expelled. This was the turning point. To muzzle Whitefield was impossible; and hence, being shut out of the Bristol churches, away he went, on February 17, and preached, in the open air, to two hundred colliers at Kingswood. This was the boldest step that any of the Methodists had yet taken; and perhaps none of them but the impulsive, large-hearted Whitefield would have had sufficient courage to be the first in such a shocking departure from Church rules and usages. The Rubicon was passed. A clergyman had dared to be so irregular as to preach in the open air, and God had sanctioned the irregularity by making it a blessing. At the second Kingswood service, Whitefield says he had two thousand people to hear him; and at the third, four thousand; while, at the fifth service, the four thousand were increased to ten. These were marvellous crowds to assemble out of doors in the bleak months of February and March. No wonder that Whitefield’s soul took fire. He declares he never preached with greater power than now. One day, he would take his stand on Hannam Mount; another, on Rose Green; and another at the Fishponds. Then he ran off to Cardiff, and preached in the town hall; and then to Bath, and preached on the town common. Then we find him preaching to about four thousand at Baptist Mills; and, on March 18, his congregation at Rose Green was estimated at not less than twenty thousand, to whom he preached nearly an hour and a half.[273] A gentleman lent him a large bowling-green in the heart of Bristol, and here he preached to seven or eight thousand people. In the village of Publow, several thousands assembled to hear him; and, at Coal-pit Heath and other places, the crowds were quite as great. All this transpired within six weeks, and, at nearly all these strange and enormous gatherings, Whitefield made a collection for his orphan house in Georgia. His soul expanded with his marvellous success. He wished to try the same experiment elsewhere; and hence he sent for Wesley to act as his Bristol and Kingswood successor. Wesley arrived at Bristol on Saturday, March 31; and, the next day, heard Whitefield at the Bowling-green, Rose Green, and Hannam Mount, and was thus introduced to the vast congregations which Whitefield bequeathed to his godly care. He was once again ungagged, and, during the nine months from March to December, preached and expounded almost without ceasing.

Whitefield, on leaving Wesley at Bristol, made his way to London, preaching to assembled thousands at Gloucester and other places. The churches in the metropolis were all closed against him; but Moorfields and Kennington Common were still open; and here, to congregations consisting of tens of thousands, he rapturously proclaimed the glad tidings of salvation. In one instance, he computed his Kennington congregation at fifty thousand, to whom he preached an hour and a half. Eighty coaches were present, besides great numbers of people on horseback. On another occasion, his collection for the orphan house in Georgia amounted to upwards of £47, of which £16 were in half-pence. At another time, the concourse in Moorfields numbered nearly sixty thousand; and, at every service, he seems to have made collections for Georgia, himself acting as one of the collectors. He then made a short preaching excursion to Hertford, Northampton, and Bedford, where the stairs of a windmill served him for a pulpit. On returning to town, he received letters from Scotland, telling him that Ralph Erskine had turned field preacher, and had had a congregation of fourteen thousand people. In June, Wesley came to London to see him, and preached at Blackheath to twelve or fourteen thousand people, “the Lord giving him,” writes Whitefield, “ten thousand times more success than He has given me.” An embargo unexpectedly laid on shipping detained him in England a few weeks longer, during which he visited Hertfordshire, Essex, Gloucestershire, and other places. In July, he joined his friend Wesley in Bristol, and acknowledged that the congregations were much more serious and affected than when he had left them three months before. The Kingswood colliers, instead of cursing and swearing, now made the woods ring with their hymns of praise. At length, in the month of August, Whitefield set sail for America, where we must leave him until his return to England, in March, 1741.

Charles Wesley passed most of the year 1739 in London and its neighbourhood. His brother and his friends urged him to settle at Oxford; but he refused, without further direction from God. He preached in churches as long as he was permitted; and, when prohibited, followed the example of Whitefield and his brother.

For a moment, we must retrace our steps. As already stated, Wesley himself spent the first two months of 1739 in London. How was he occupied? On New Year’s day, he was present at a remarkable lovefeast in Fetter Lane, which continued until three o’clock in the morning, and which consisted of himself, his brother, his clerical friends Whitefield, Ingham, Hall, Kinchin, and Hutchings, and about sixty Moravians. At the hour mentioned, the power of God came upon them so mightily, that many cried out for exceeding joy, others fell prostrate on the ground, and all joined in singing, “We praise Thee, O God; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord.” But even this marvellous manifestation of the majesty of God failed to remove Wesley’s doubts and fears; for, three days afterwards, we find him writing the bitterest things against himself, and concluding with the words, “Though I have constantly used all the means of grace for twenty years, I am not a Christian.”

The day after, January 5, seven of the despised Methodist clergymen (probably the seven just mentioned), held a conference at Islington, on several matters of great importance, and, after prayer and fasting, determined what they were in doubt about, by casting lots. “We parted,” says Whitefield, “with a full conviction that God was going to do great things among us;”[274] a conviction which was soon verified.

On January 7, they held another lovefeast at Fetter Lane, and spent the whole night in prayer and thanksgiving.[275]

January 25, Wesley baptized five adults at Islington, and makes a strange distinction, which shows that his views of the scriptural doctrine of salvation were still hazy and confused. He writes: “Of the adults I have known baptized lately, only one was at that time born again, in the full sense of the word; that is, found a thorough inward change by the love of God filling her heart. Most of them were only born again in a lower sense; that is, received the remission of their sins.” Let the reader compare this with a passage in Wesley’s sermon on “The Great Privilege of those that are Born of God,” and he will mark the difference.

“It has been frequently supposed, that the being born of God was all one with the being justified; that the new birth and justification were only different expressions, denoting the same thing: it being certain, on the one hand, that whoever is justified is also born of God; and on the other, that whoever is born of God is also justified; yea, that both these gifts of God are given to every believer in one and the same moment. In one point of time his sins are blotted out, and he is born again of God. But though it be allowed, that justification and the new birth are, in point of time, inseparable from each other, yet are they easily distinguished, as being not the same, but things of a widely different nature. Justification implies only a relative, the new birth a real, change. God in justifying us does something for us; in begetting us again, He does the work in us. The one restores us to the favour, the other to the image, of God. The one is the taking away the guilt, the other the taking away the power, of sin; so that, although they are joined together in point of time, yet they are of wholly distinct natures.”

Nothing can be more scriptural, or more clearly expressed than this; but comparison with the extract from his journal, above given, shows that, even in 1739, Wesley was far from being “a scribe instructed unto the kingdom of heaven.” He still had much both to learn and to unlearn; but it was a happy fact, that he was docile and eager to be taught. Four days after baptizing the adults at Islington, he sat up till near one in the morning with Whitefield and two other clergymen, earnestly listening to a midnight discussion concerning the doctrine of the new birth.[276]

During the month of February, he had three separate interviews with bishops of the Established Church. On the 6th, he went with Whitefield to the Bishop of Gloucester, to solicit a subscription for Georgia.[277] On the 21st, he and his brother Charles waited on Potter, Archbishop of Canterbury, who showed them great affection; spoke mildly of Whitefield; cautioned them to give no more umbrage than necessary; to forbear exceptionable phrases; and to keep to the doctrines of the Church. They told him they expected persecution; but would abide by the Church till her articles and homilies were repealed. From Potter, they proceeded direct to Gibson, Bishop of London, who denied that he had condemned them, or even heard much about them. Whitefield’s Journal, he said, was tainted with enthusiasm, though Whitefield himself was a pious, well meaning youth. He warned them against Antinomianism, and dismissed them kindly.[278]

On the day after their interview with the Bishop of Gloucester, Whitefield, shut out of the London churches, set off on his tour to Bristol. Three weeks later, Wesley wrote him an account of his proceedings in London.

“February 26, 1739.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Our Lord’s hand is not shortened amongst us. Yesterday I preached at St. Katherine’s, and at Islington, where the church was almost as hot as some of the society rooms used to be.[279] The fields, after service, were white with people praising God. About three hundred were present at Mr. S——’s; thence I went to Mr. Bray’s; thence to Fetter Lane; and, at nine, to Mr. B——’s, where also we wanted room. To-day I expound in the Minories at four; at Mrs. W——’s at six; and in Gravel Lane, Bishopsgate, at eight. On Wednesday, at six, we have a noble company of women, not adorned with gold or costly apparel, but with a meek and quiet spirit. At the Savoy, on Thursday evening, we have usually two or three hundred, most of them, at least, thoroughly awakened. On Friday, Mr. A——’s parlour is more than filled; as is Mr. P——’s room twice over.”[280]

This extract will give the reader an idea of Wesley’s weekly labours in London, up to the time that he set out for Bristol. Every day had its day’s work. It was impossible for such a man to be idle: work was essential to his happiness, and almost to his existence.

Already the people began to have faith in the power of his piety and prayers. The parents of a lunatic besought his intercessions on behalf of their afflicted son, who, for five years past, had been in the habit of beating and tearing himself, putting his hands into the fire, and thrusting pins into his flesh. Wesley and his friends yielded to the request on February 17; and, from that time, the poor creature, though not fully freed from his calamitous affliction, had more rest than he had had for two years before. On the same day, a middle aged, well dressed woman, at a society-meeting in Beech Lane, was seized as with the agonies of death. For three years, her friends had accounted her mad, and had bled and blistered her accordingly. Wesley prayed with her, and, five days after, she was victoriously delivered, and in a moment was filled with love and joy.[281] Within a fortnight, a third instance, somewhat similar, took place at Oxford, whither Wesley had gone for a brief visit. Hearing of a woman who was most violently opposed to the Methodist revival, he went to her and argued with her. This enraged her more and more. Wesley broke off the dispute, and began to pray. In a few minutes, the woman fell into an extreme agony, both of body and soul; and soon after cried out with the utmost earnestness, “Now I know I am forgiven for Christ’s sake;” and, from that hour, set her face as a flint to declare the faith which before she persecuted.

We have already seen that, at the beginning of the month of March, Wesley made a tour to Oxford, and while there wrote to Whitefield the long letter which has been already given. On his return to London, he received a most urgent request from Whitefield to proceed to Bristol without delay. Wesley hesitated; Charles objected; and the society at Fetter Lane disputed; but, at length, the matter was decided by casting lots. Wesley reached Bristol on March 31, and on April 2 Whitefield left, summing up the results of his first six weeks of out-door preaching thus: “Many sinners have been effectually converted, and all the children of God have been exceedingly comforted. Several thousands of little books have been dispersed among the people; about £200 collected for the orphan house; and many poor families relieved by the bounty of my friend Mr. Seward. And what gives me the greater comfort is the consideration that my dear and honoured friend Mr. Wesley is left behind to confirm those that are awakened; so that I hope, when I return from Georgia, to see many bold soldiers of Jesus Christ.”[282]

The next day he wrote to Wesley the following, which is now for the first time given to the public:—

“April 3, 1739.

“HONOURED SIR,—Yesterday I began to play the madman in Gloucestershire, by preaching on a table in Thornbury Street. To-day I have exhorted twice; and by-and-by shall begin a third time; nothing like doing good by the way. Be pleased to go to Kingswood, and forward the good work as much as possible. I desire you would open any letters that come directed for me, and send me a line to Gloucester. I wish you all the success imaginable in your ministry; and I pray God that my Bristol friends may grow in grace under it. Parting from them has struck a little damp upon my joy; but God will quickly revisit,

“Honoured sir, your unworthy loving servant, “GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“The Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Mr. Grevil’s, “Wine Street, Bristol.”

On the day of Whitefield’s departure, at four in the afternoon, Wesley ventured to follow his friend’s example, and for the first time in England dared to preach in the open air. His text was appropriate and striking, Isaiah lxi. 1, 2. The place was “a little eminence in a ground adjoining to the city.” His feeling was deep. He says: “I could scarce reconcile myself at first to this strange way of preaching in the fields; having been all my life, till very lately, so tenacious of every point relating to decency and order, that I should have thought the saving of souls almost a sin if it had not been done in a church.”

Such were the prejudices and the feelings of the man who, for between fifty and sixty years proved himself the greatest out-door preacher that ever lived.

With the exception of a brief visit to London in June, September, and November, and of a short tour into Wales and another to Exeter, Wesley spent the whole of his time, from April to the end of 1739, in Bristol and its immediate neighbourhood. Though there are considerable gaps in Wesley’s journal, during which we lose sight of his texts and sermons, it is not too much to say that he delivered at least five hundred discourses and expositions in the nine months of which we speak; and it is a noticeable fact that only eight of these were delivered in churches,—six in the church at Clifton, one at Runwick, and one at Exeter. His preaching plan was as follows:—an exposition to one or other of the Bristol societies every night, and preaching every Sunday morning, and every Monday and Saturday afternoon. At Kingswood, including Hannam Mount, Rose Green, and Two Mile Hill, he preached twice every sabbath, and also every alternate Tuesday and Friday. At Baptist Mills, he preached every Friday; at Bath, once a fortnight, on Tuesday; and at Pensford, once a fortnight, on Thursday.

Another point is worth noticing. His chief, almost his only aim, was to explain to the people the plan of scriptural salvation; for, as may easily be seen, almost all his texts have an immediate bearing on this the greatest of all pulpit topics. Saved himself, his whole soul was absorbed in a grand endeavour to expound the truth which, above all other truths, is the means of saving sinners. “The points,” he writes, “I chiefly insisted upon were four: first, that orthodoxy, or right opinions, is, at best, but a very slender part of religion, if it can be allowed to be any part at all; that neither does religion consist in negatives, in bare harmlessness of any kind; nor merely in externals, in doing good, or using the means of grace, in works of piety, or of charity: that it is nothing short of, or different from, the mind that was in Christ; the image of God stamped upon the heart; inward righteousness, attended with the peace of God and joy in the Holy Ghost. Secondly, that the only way to this religion is repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. Thirdly, that by this faith, he that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, is justified freely by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. And, lastly, that being justified by faith, we taste of the heaven to which we are going; we are holy and happy; we tread down sin and fear, and sit in heavenly places with Christ Jesus.”[283]

He further tells us that the reasons which induced him to begin preaching in the open air were—1. That he was forbidden, as by a general consent, though not by any judicial sentence, to preach in any church. 2. That the rooms in which he preached could not contain a tenth part of the people that were earnest to hear. Hence, he adds, he determined to do in England what he had often done in a warmer climate; namely, when the house would not contain the congregation, to preach in the open air; and never had he seen a more awful sight than when, on Rose Green, or the top of Hannam Mount, some thousands of people were calmly joined together in solemn waiting upon God. He had no desire or design to preach in the open air till he was forbidden to preach in churches. It was no matter of choice, neither of premeditation. Field preaching was a sudden expedient, a thing submitted to rather than chosen; and submitted to, because he thought preaching even thus better than not preaching at all; first, in regard to his own soul, because a dispensation of the gospel being committed to him, he did not dare not to preach the gospel; and secondly, in regard to the souls of others, whom he everywhere saw seeking death in the error of their life.[284]

Some of his friends urged him to settle in college, or to accept a cure of souls: to whom he replied:—

“I have no business at college, having now no office and no pupils; and it will be time enough to consider whether I ought to accept a cure of souls when one is offered to me. On scriptural grounds, I do not think it hard to justify what I am doing. God, in Scripture, commands me, according to my power, to instruct the ignorant, reform the wicked, confirm the virtuous. Man forbids me to do this in another’s parish; that is, in effect, not to do it at all, seeing I have now no parish of my own, nor probably ever shall. Whom then shall I hear? God or man? If it be just to obey man rather than God, judge ye. I look upon all the world as my parish; thus far I mean, that, in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my bounden duty to declare unto all that are willing to hear, the glad tidings of salvation.”

Such was the position taken by Wesley and his friends. Their chief, their only business was to save souls. For this they had a world-wide commission. Nothing short of this could satisfy the yearnings of their nature. Unlike the old Puritans and others, they had no attacks to make on the despotic measures of the court and Church. “In their bosoms there was no rankling grudge against authorities; there was no particle of that venom which, wherever it lodges, infects and paralyses the religious affections.”[285] Their sole quarrel was, not with church or state authorities, but with sin and Satan; and their sole object was, not to make proselytes, but to save sinners.

Their congregations, says James Hutton, “were composed of every description of persons, who, without the slightest attempt at order, assembled, crying ‘Hurrah!’ with one breath, and with the next bellowing and bursting into tears on account of their sins; some poking each other’s ribs, and others shouting ‘Hallelujah.’ It was a jumble of extremes of good and evil; and so distracted alike were both preachers and hearers, that it was enough to make one cry to God for His interference. Here thieves, prostitutes, fools, people of every class, several men of distinction, a few of the learned, merchants, and numbers of poor people who had never entered a place of worship, assembled in crowds and became godly.”[286]

Of course, persecution followed. “We continued,” says Wesley, “to call sinners to repentance in London, Bristol, Bath, and a few other places; but it was not without violent opposition, both from high and low, learned and unlearned. Not only all manner of evil was spoken of us, both in private and public, but the beasts of the people were stirred up almost in all places to knock these mad dogs on the head at once. And when complaint was made of their savage, brutal violence, no magistrate would do us justice.”[287]

The following may be taken as specimens of the opposition met with in 1739. On one occasion, Wesley had obtained permission to preach in Pensford church; but, just as he was setting out, he received a letter, saying that the minister had been informed that he was mad, and that, therefore, the permission was withdrawn. Not being allowed to occupy the church, Wesley took his stand in the open air; but in the midst of prayer, two men, hired for the purpose, began to sing ballads, which obliged Wesley and his friends to begin to sing a psalm, so as to drown one noise by another.

Another incident must be given. Bath, at that period, was perhaps the most fashionable city in England; and the most renowned man in Bath was Richard, commonly called “Beau,” Nash. This accomplished rake, now sixty-five years old, was the son of a glass manufacturer in Wales, and was expelled from Jesus College, Oxford, for his intrigues and wild adventures. At the age of thirty, he was without a fortune, and without talents for acquiring one; and hence, to the end of life, became a gamester. The visit of Queen Anne to Bath, in 1703, had made the city the favourite resort of people of distinction, and, ever after, the amusements of the place were put under the direction of a master of the ceremonies, this sovereignty of the city being decreed to Nash by all ranks of residents and visitors. King of Bath, he had rules posted in the pump-room, from which even royalty itself was not allowed to deviate. He prescribed the dresses in which ladies and gentlemen were to appear at balls, and imperatively fixed the number of dances to be danced. He himself wore a monstrously large white hat, and usually travelled in a post chaise, drawn by six grey horses, honoured with outriders, footmen, French horns, and every other appendage of a pretentious coxcomb. He lived by gambling, and scattered money with as much indifference as he won it. The city of which he was the dandy king was full of fashionable rogues. “Nothing,” says the Weekly Miscellany of that period, “nothing was to be seen in it but play and the preparations for it. Persons of all characters, distinctions, and denominations sat down to cards from morning till night, and from night till morning; and those who disagreed in everything else agreed in this.”

On visiting Bath, Wesley was told that Nash meant to interfere, and was entreated not to attempt to preach. Wesley, however, was not the man to yield to a swaggering rake. He had gone to preach, and preach he would, and did; the threatenings of Nash having made his congregation much larger than was expected. Besides the poor, he had many of the rich and great. Soon after Wesley began his sermon, the “Beau,” in his immense white hat, appeared, and asked by what authority he dared to do what he was doing now. Wesley replied, “By the authority of Jesus Christ, conveyed to me by him who is now Archbishop of Canterbury, when he laid his hands upon me, and said, ‘Take thou authority to preach the gospel.’” “But this,” said Nash, “is a conventicle, and contrary to act of parliament.” “No,” answered Wesley, “conventicles are seditious meetings; but here is no sedition: therefore, it is not contrary to act of parliament.” “I say it is,” cried the man of Bath; “and, besides, your preaching frightens people out of their wits.” “Sir,” said Wesley, “did you ever hear me preach?” “No.” “How then can you judge of what you never heard?” “I judge,” he answered, “by common report.” “Common report,” replied Wesley, “is not enough. Give me leave to ask you, sir, is not your name Nash?” “It is,” he said. “Sir,” retorted Wesley, “I dare not judge of you by common report.” The master of ceremonies was worsted, and, after a pause, simply asked what the people wanted; upon which an old woman begged Wesley to allow her to answer him, and, amid her taunts, the resplendent king of the pump-room sneaked away.

No wonder that the Methodists were opposed. Their preaching, their doctrine, and their whole behaviour were novel. “Being convinced,” writes Wesley, “of that important truth, which is the foundation of all real religion, that ‘by grace we are saved through faith,’ we immediately began declaring it to others. Indeed, we could hardly speak of anything else, either in public or private. It shone upon our minds with so strong a light, that it was our constant theme. It was our daily subject, both in verse and prose; and we vehemently defended it against all mankind. But, in doing this, we were assaulted and abused on every side. We were everywhere represented as mad dogs, and treated accordingly. We were stoned in the streets, and several times narrowly escaped with our lives. In sermons, newspapers, and pamphlets of all kinds, we were painted as unheard of monsters. But this moved us not; we went on testifying salvation by faith both to small and great, and not counting our lives dear unto ourselves, so we might finish our course with joy.”[288]

Wesley here mentions the attacks made upon them by the press. The following are specimens:—

The Scots Magazine, for 1739, remarks that “Whitefield and the two Wesleys offend against the rules of the Christian church, by preaching in opposition to the opinions and instructions of the bishops.” “The Wesleys,” continues this Scottish censor, “are more guilty than Whitefield, because they are men of more learning, better judgment, and cooler heads. Let them go over to their proper companies, their favourites, the Dissenters, and utter their extemporary effusions in a conventicle; but not be suffered in our churches hypocritically to use our forms, which they despise. Let them carry their spirit of delusion among their brethren, the Quakers. Let them preach up their election and reprobation doctrines among the Calvinists; and their solifidian tenets among the Antinomians. Let not such bold movers of sedition, and ringleaders of the rabble, to the disgrace of their order, be regularly admitted into those pulpits which they have taken with multitude and with tumult, or, as ignominiously, by stealth.”

The clergy also began to bestir themselves. On Trinity Sunday, a sermon on regeneration was preached in the parish churches of Greenwich, and of St. Peter the Poor, London, by the Rev. Ralph Skerret, D.D., chaplain to the Earl of Grantham. The sermon, in 8vo, thirty-six pages, was published; but is scarcely worth noticing. The Methodists, however, are spoken of as “restless deceivers of the people, who make it their daily business to fill the heads of the ignorant and unwary with wild, perplexive notions.”

Another sermon, preached before the university of Oxford, on August 5, by the Rev. John Wilder, M.A., rector of St. Aldate’s, on “The Trial of the Spirits,” brands the Methodists as “deceivers,” “babblers,” “insolent pretenders,” “men of capricious humours, spiritual sleight, and canting craftiness,” “novices in divinity,” casting “indecent, false, and unchristian reflections on the clergy,” “newfangled teachers, setting up their own fantastic conceits, in opposition to the authority of God, and so bigoted to their wild opinions, and so puffed up with pride and vanity at the success of their enthusiastic labours, that they all appear fully disposed to maintain and defend their cause by more than spiritual weapons, or to die martyrs for it.”

On the 14th of October, the Rev. Charles Wheatley, M.A., vicar of Furneux Pelham, Herts, preached in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, a sermon against the “new enthusiasts,” on “St. John’s test of knowing Christ, and being born of Him.” The sermon, with notes, was published, in 8vo, thirty-one pages, but was not calculated to augment the fame of the honest and zealous churchman, who had already given to the public two important ritualistic works, entitled, “A Rational Illustration of the Book of Common Prayer,” and “An Historical Vindication of the Fifty-fifth Canon.” Mr. Wheatley is less abusive than Mr. Wilder; but yet he thinks it right to describe the Methodists as “rapturous enthusiasts, preaching up unaccountable sensations, violent emotions, and sudden changes;” and likewise “assuming to themselves, upon all occasions, the peculiar language of the Holy Ghost; equalling themselves to prophets and apostles; boasting of immediate inspirations; and laying a blasphemous claim to greater miracles than were ever wrought even by Christ Himself.”

Another opponent, in 1739, was Henry Stebbing, a doctor of divinity, a royal chaplain, and preacher to the Honourable Society of Gray’s Inn. This gentleman published “A Caution against Religious Delusion,” in the shape of “a sermon on the New Birth: occasioned by the pretensions of the Methodists.” In this comparatively temperate production, the Methodists are charged with “vain and confident boastings, and with rash uncharitable censures;” with “gathering tumultuous assemblies to the disturbance of the public peace, and with setting at nought all authority and rule;” with “intruding into other men’s labours, and with encouraging abstinence, prayer, and other religious exercises, to the neglect of the duties of our station.” It is admitted that, when there are “so many combinations for vice,” “religious societies for praying, reading (if not expounding) the Scriptures, and singing psalms may be of use for the encouragement of virtue;” but the danger is lest the laymen, who were heads or leaders of these societies, should “grow opinionated of themselves and fond of their own gifts, and should run into wild fancies until the pale of the Church is too strait for them.” Before the end of the year 1739, Stebbing’s sermon reached a sixth edition.

Another antagonist, more violent than Stebbing, was Joseph Trapp, D.D., who published, in 1739, a pamphlet of sixty-nine pages, entitled, “The Nature, Folly, Sin, and Danger of being Righteous over-much; with a particular view to the Doctrines and Practices of certain Modern Enthusiasts. Being the substance of four discourses lately preached in the parish churches of Christ Church and St. Lawrence Jewry, London; and St. Martin’s in the Fields, Westminster. By Joseph Trapp, D.D.”

In this notable production, it is stated that, “for laymen to officiate in reading prayers to any assembly, except their own families, is an encroachment upon the office of those who are ordained to holy functions; and for them to expound or interpret Scripture is neither laudable nor justifiable, but tends to the confirmation, not the removal, of ignorance.” For “a raw novice, though in holy orders” (like Whitefield), “to take upon him, at his first setting out, to be a teacher, not only of all the laity, in all parts of the kingdom, but of the teachers themselves, the learned clergy, many of them learned before he was born, is an outrage upon common decency and common sense; the height of presumption, confidence, and self-sufficiency; so ridiculous as to create the greatest laughter, were it not so deplorable and detestable as to create the greatest grief and abhorrence; especially when vast multitudes are so sottish and wicked as, in a tumultuous manner, to run madding after him.” Trapp insinuates that the Methodists “teach such absurd doctrines, and second them with such absurd practices, as to give countenance to the lewd and debauched, the irreligious and profane. In their own imagination, their errors are the height of wisdom, and their vices the most perfect virtues. They think themselves the greatest saints, when, in truth, they are under strong delusion, in the bond of iniquity, and in the gall of bitterness. They have set the nearest and dearest relations at variance; disturbed the quiet of families; and thrown whole neighbourhoods and parishes into confusion. They were half-dissenters in the Church, and more dangerous to the Church, than those who were total dissenters from it.” “Methodism was nothing but a revival of the old fanaticism of the last century; when all manner of madness was practised, and all manner of villainy committed in the name of Christ.” Its disciples, “like Solomon’s madman, cast firebrands, arrows, and death; and send to hell (only because they are not of their own frantic persuasion) millions of Christians much better than themselves.”

The author proceeds:—“For a clergyman of the Church of England to pray and preach in the fields, in the country, or in the streets of the city, is perfectly new, a fresh honour to the blessed age in which we have the happiness to live. I am ashamed to speak upon a subject, which is a reproach not only to our Church and country, but to human nature itself. Can it promote the Christian religion to turn it into riot, tumult, and confusion? to make it ridiculous and contemptible, and expose it to the scorn and scoffs of infidels and atheists? To the prevalence of immorality and profaneness, infidelity and atheism, is now added the pest of enthusiasm. Our prospect is very sad and melancholy. Go not after these impostors and seducers; but shun them as you would the plague.”

Such are fair specimens of the four fiery sermons preached by Dr. Trapp. Hypocrites, enthusiasts, novelists, ignes fatui, and glaring meteors are the best names which this reverend divine could find for the poor, peaceable, and persecuted Methodists.[289]

Another clerical adversary was “Tristam Land, M.A., late Fellow of Clare Hall, in Cambridge, Curate of St. James, Garlickhith; and Lecturer of the united parishes of St. Anthony and St. John Baptist.” His sixpenny pamphlet of thirty pages was entitled, “A Letter to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, with a Letter addressed to the Religious Societies.” Whitefield is attacked for teaching the doctrine, that many are baptized without being born again; whereas Tristam Land insists that, according to the teachings of the Church of England, “all infants, at the time they are baptized, are sanctified with the Holy Ghost; and that, though they may afterwards depart from the grace given, and fall into sin, they are not to be commanded to be baptized or born again a second time; for to be born more than once, in a spiritual sense, is just as impossible as to be born twice in a natural. All that can be done in this matter is to use the several means of grace; or, in one word, as the Scripture expresses it, they must be renewed again by repentance.”

This reverend gentleman then proceeds to describe the Methodists as “young quacks in divinity, running about the city, and taking great pains to distract the common people, and to break the peace and unity of the Church. They are like vain persons, who think themselves handsome, and are apt to despise others; for looking upon themselves as exquisite pictures of holiness and as patterns of piety, they represent us (the clergy) as dumb dogs, profane, and carnally minded. They talk much of the pangs of the new birth, their inward feelings, experiences, and spiritual miracles; but their faith is an ill grounded assurance, their hope an unwarrantable presumption, and their charity a censoriousness and a contempt of their brethren of different sentiments to themselves.”

Good old Dr. Byrom, in a letter dated February 8, 1739, says, “The book against Mr. Whitefield by Mr. Land is thought a weak piece.”[290] No wonder.

Besides these, there was published “An Expostulatory Letter to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield;” also an octavo pamphlet of forty pages, entitled, “Observations and Remarks on Mr. Seagrave’s conduct and writings, in which his answer to the Rev. Dr. Trapp’s four sermons is more particularly considered.” In this latter production, it is asserted that Whitefield sinks the house of God into a playhouse, and turns religion to a farce; that prostitutes swarm at his meetings, and there make merchandise as at a country fair; that his congregations are such as crowd to a Smithfield show; and that Whitefield himself is an enthusiast, a blasphemer, and a wavering, wandering preacher of no establishment, but nearly attached to the Dissenting communion, and blending his sermons with a spice both of the Papist and Mahommedan.

In a “Faithful Narrative” of Whitefield’s life and character, it is stated that numberless lies and false reports have been raised in London to vilify his character, and to stigmatise his followers; and he was now branded as a mercenary knave. It was also reported that, in Georgia, he had been imprisoned and personally chastised for making the people mad with enthusiasm.

An “Expostulatory Letter” to Whitefield, “and the rest of his brethren, the Methodists of the Church of England,” octavo, forty pages, and signed “E. B.,” charges them with departing from the rubric in sprinkling children at baptism, thus prostituting a holy ordinance, and substituting an insignificant, unavailing thing, neither worthy of God, nor beneficial to men. It also urges them to be dipped themselves, and thus become exemplars to others.

Besides all these, an attack was made by a young man of eight-and-twenty, curate of All Saints’, Bristol, the Rev. Josiah Tucker, afterwards a doctor of divinity, and Dean of Gloucester. In a Letter, dated June 14, 1739, he accuses Whitefield of propagating “blasphemous and enthusiastic notions, which struck at the root of all religion, and made it the jest of those who sat in the seat of the scornful.” Wesley replied to this, and concludes by advising Tucker not to meddle with controversy, for his talents were not equal to its management. It would only entangle and bewilder him more and more. Besides, there was no pleasure in answering a man whose head was not adapted to the right directing of disputes.[291]

The next onslaught was more authoritative and serious. On August 1, 1739, Edmund Gibson, Bishop of London, published his “Pastoral Letter,” of fifty-five pages, “to the People of his Diocese; especially those of the two great cities of London and Westminster: by way of Caution against Lukewarmness on one hand, and Enthusiasm on the other.” Two-thirds of this prelatical pamphlet are on enthusiasm, and are levelled against the Methodists. Numerous extracts are given from Whitefield’s Journal, to show—1. That these enthusiasts claim to have extraordinary communications with God, and more than ordinary assurances of a special presence with them. 2. That they have a special and immediate mission from God. 3. That they think and act under the immediate guidance of a Divine inspiration. 4. That they speak of their preaching and expounding, and the effects of them, as the sole work of a Divine power. 5. That they boast of sudden and surprising effects as wrought by the Holy Ghost in consequence of their preaching. 6. That they claim the spirit of prophecy. 7. That they speak of themselves in the language, and under the character, of apostles of Christ, and even of Christ Himself. 8. That they profess to plant and propagate a new gospel, as unknown to the generality of ministers and people, in a Christian country. 9. That they endeavour to justify their own extraordinary methods of teaching, by casting unworthy reflections upon the parochial clergy, as deficient in the discharge of their duty, and not instructing their people in the true doctrines of Christianity.

Thirteen days after the “Pastoral Letter” was published, Whitefield wrote an answer to it, and, in a firm but quiet and respectful way, replied to all the bishop’s allegations. He concludes by charging Gibson with propagating a new gospel, because he asserts, that “good works are a necessary condition of our being justified in the sight of God.” He maintains that faith is the only necessary condition, and that good works are the necessary fruit and consequence. “This,” he writes, “is the doctrine of Jesus Christ; this is the doctrine of the Church of England; and it is, because the generality of the clergy of the Church of England do not preach this doctrine, that I am resolved, God being my helper, to continue instant in season and out of season, to declare it unto all men, let the consequences, as to my own private person, be what they will.”

If the bishop really believed his accusations to be true, his pastoral is a model of meek writing. On the other hand, Whitefield’s answer is one of the smartest productions of his pen; its pith and point somewhat reminding us of the terseness which characterized his friend Wesley.

While Whitefield was skirmishing with the Bishop of London, Wesley was having a brush with the Bishop of Bristol. First they discussed the subject of faith as the only necessary condition of a sinner’s justification before God. Then his lordship charged the Methodists with “a horrid thing, a very horrid thing,” namely, “pretending to extraordinary revelations and gifts of the Holy Ghost.” The conversation concluded thus:—

Bishop. “I hear you administer the sacrament in your societies.”

Wesley. “My lord, I never did yet; and I believe I never shall.”

Bishop. “I hear too, that many people fall into fits in your societies, and that you pray over them.”

Wesley. “I do so, my lord, when any show, by strong cries and tears, that their soul is in deep anguish; and our prayer is often heard.”

Bishop. “Very extraordinary indeed! Well, sir, since you ask my advice, I will give it freely. You have no business here; you are not commissioned to preach in this diocese. Therefore, I advise you to go hence.”

Wesley. “My lord, my business on earth is, to do what good I can. Wherever, therefore, I think I can do most good, there must I stay, so long as I think so. At present, I think I can do most good here; therefore, here I stay. Being ordained a priest, by the commission I then received, I am a priest of the church universal; and being ordained as fellow of a college, I was not limited to any particular cure, but have an indeterminate commission to preach the word of God in any part of the Church of England. I conceive not, therefore, that in preaching here by this commission I break any human law. When I am convinced I do, then it will be time to ask, shall I obey God or man? But if I should be convinced in the meanwhile that I could advance the glory of God and the salvation of souls, in any other place more than in Bristol, in that hour, by God’s help, I will go hence; which till then I may not do.”[292]

About the same time, a pamphlet of ninety-six pages was published, entitled, “The Life of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, by an Impartial Hand.” Impartiality is pretended, but hostility is seen. The object of the Life is evidently to make the subject of it a mark for the shafts of ridicule. Accounts are given of the fracas in St. Margaret’s church, Westminster, on Sunday, February 4. There is also “a method of confession drawn up for the use of the women Methodists,” professedly taken from the original in Whitefield’s or Wesley’s own handwriting, and with which, it is alleged, the Deists are delighted. Among other questions, to be asked, as often as occasion required, were the following: “Are you in love? Whom do you love just now, better than any other person in the world? Is not the person an idol? Does any court you? How do you like him? How do you feel yourself when he comes, when he stays, and when he goes away?” A full account is, likewise, furnished of Joseph Periam, a young clerk to an attorney, who had been converted, partly by reading Whitefield’s sermons on the new birth, and whom his friends had put into a madhouse—(1) Because he fasted for near a fortnight. (2) Because he prayed so as to be heard several storeys high. (3) Because he had sold his clothes and given the money to the poor. The Methodists are further charged with attempting to take away the liberty of the press; Wesley is accused of placing his converts, when delivered from their violent agitations and distortions, on an eminence, for others to behold them; and Whitefield is charged with saying, that he could produce two cobblers in Bristol, that knew more of true Christianity than all the clergy in the city put together. His Journals are designated rhapsodies and repetitions of spiritual pride, vanity and nonsense; he is accused of wilful and notorious falsehood, and of taking pleasure in being abusive and scurrilous.

All this breathes fury; but the following taken from the Weekly Miscellany of July 21, 1739, surpasses it. The Methodist preacher stands on an eminence with admiring and subscribing crowds about him. He is young, which is good; looks innocent, which is better; and has no human learning, which is best of all. He spreads his hands and opens his lips as wide as possible. He talks of a sensible new birth; good women around him come to his assistance; he dilates himself; cries out; the hill swells into a mountain; and parturiunt montes, nascitur ridiculus mus. Then there is a chorus of ten thousand sighs and groans, deepened with the blowing of bassoons and horns. The Methodists are mad enthusiasts who teach, for dictates of the Holy Spirit, seditions, heresies, and contempt of the ordinances of God and man. They are buffoons in religion, and mountebanks in theology; creatures who disclaim sense and are below argument; visionary antics in gowns and cassocks; so buffeted by the devil as to be qualified to be confessors to the whole island; composing sermons as fast as they can write, and speaking faster than they think; and forming societies of females, who are to confess their love affairs one to another, and to take care that there shall be a supply of new Methodists for future generations.

In the same year, appeared a pamphlet, of twenty-eight pages, entitled “The Methodists; an Humorous, Burlesque Poem, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield and his followers.” The frontispiece represents the great preacher addressing an immense crowd on Kennington Common, while, on the outskirts of the congregation, are coaches of all descriptions, and a gibbet on which three condemned felons are hanging. Describing the Methodists, the poem says:—

“By rule they eat, by rule they drink, Do all things else by rule, but think— Accuse their priests of loose behaviour, To get more in the laymen’s favour; Method alone must guide ‘em all, Whence Methodists themselves they call.”

After this, the devil is represented as making a tour from Rome to Oxford, in the course of which he stole the bigoted madness of a Turk, and the wit of a modern atheist, both of which he drenched, dull and deep, in a literary Dutchman’s brain, and then, making them his own, and pulling off his horns, and shoeing his cloven foot, dressing himself in a student’s gown, and using for the nonce a distorted face, and, because of the piety of its nasal tones, a Noncon parson’s nose, he introduced himself to the Oxford Methodists, and gave them instructions how to act, so as to effect their purposes,—instructions too lascivious to be reprinted. As a very mild specimen of this foul-mouthed poem, we give another description of the Methodists:—

“All men of thought with laughter view, Or pity, the mistaken crew; Who, mad with Scripture, void of sense, And thoughtless, novelists commence; Swerve from the rules of mother Church, And leave her basely in the lurch: To holy Holt they all repair, There join in folly and in prayer; Next round the gaols they hovering fly, To plague the wretches ere they die; And while the children lisp their praise, ‘Bless ‘em!’ each good old woman says.”

At the risk of exhausting the reader’s patience, we must notice another anti-Methodist pamphleteer, who, in 1739, did his little best to strangle the new-born system at its birth. This was a certain “James Bate, M.A., Rector of St. Paul’s, Deptford; and formerly Chaplain to His Excellency Horatio Walpole, Esq.”

First of all, the redoubtable author gave to the world a pamphlet of thirty-eight pages, bearing the title, “Methodism Displayed; or Remarks upon Mr. Whitefield’s Answer to the Bishop of London’s Pastoral Letter.” In this production, Whitefield is charged with causing numbers of poor tradesmen to leave their families to starve, only to ramble after himself; in dividing the word of God, he violently divides text from context, and makes arrant nonsense of both; he shuffles and prevaricates; treats the bishop with saucy sneers; is guilty of flat falsehoods, disingenuous quirks, and mean evasions; perfidiously tramples upon the canons of the Church; and flies in the face of his diocesan with unparalleled pride and impudence.

Not having exhausted all his wrath, the same reverend gentleman, at the end of the year, issued another manifesto, of sixty-six pages, entitled, “Quakero-Methodism; or a Confutation of the First Principles of the Quakers and Methodists.” This was a dear shilling’s worth, written in reply to a letter on Bate’s former pamphlet “by T. S——y, Esq.” Bate asserts that the whole performance of the “Quakero-Methodist” (as T. S——y is called) may be ranked under the two heads of scurrility and sophistry; but as God, at whose altar he serves, has forbid him to return railing for railing, he will give no answer to the scurrility whatever. He then, notwithstanding this, proceeds to accuse his adversary of having “troubled the public with a load of stupidity, folly, and nonsense.” He alleges against him “insipid sneers, like the grins of an idiot;” he tells him that “the shortest cut for him to avoid writing nonsense is to lay down his pen;” that his “whole stock of knowledge has been laid in at some expounding house that was under the influence of the spirit of presumption, ignorance, pride, and arrogance;” and that “his arguments have never more than two gentle faults, false premises and a false conclusion.” He says, Whitefield “chews” the charges of the Bishop of London, “just as an ass mumbles a thistle, without either the courage to swallow it, or the sense to lay it down;” and concludes by assuring his opponent that he could have “goaded him with the sharpest, bitterest, and severest sarcasms, and have scourged his spiritual pride with wholesome severity;” but in mercy he has refrained from using such “a whip of scorpions.”

The magazines and newspapers of the period were filled with similar abuse of the poor Methodists. The writer has examined most of them, and has been struck with two facts:—(1) of those admitting letters and articles against the Methodists, the fairest and most moderate was the Gentleman’s Magazine; and (2) the bitterest and most violent was the professedly religious Weekly Miscellany, a weekly folio sheet of four pages. The following is a mild specimen from the latter, and refers not only to the movements of Wesley and Whitefield in the south of England, but of Ingham in the north. After accusing Whitefield of “behaviour disgraceful to the Christian religion and to the ministerial office,” the journalist proceeds to say that—

“The clergy had all refused him their pulpits, and the lord mayor the halls and markets of the city.” He was “a conceited boaster and heterodox intruder; whose next performance was to be accompanied with a chorus of ten thousand sighs and groans, deepened with bassoons. In the approaching winter, the town would be entertained with harlequin turned Methodist, by way of reprisals, since the Methodist had turned harlequin. In Yorkshire, by the preaching of the Methodists, the spirit of enthusiasm had so prevailed, that almost every man who could hammer out a chapter in the Bible had turned an expounder of the Scripture, to the great decay of industry, and the almost ruin of the woollen manufacture, which seemed threatened with destruction for want of hands to work it.” “Methodism has laid aside play-books and poems, for Scripture phrases and hymns of its own composing. Its disciples were never easy but when they were in a church, or expounding the Bible, which they could do offhand, from Genesis to Revelation, with great ease and power. They had given away their finery to tattered beggars, resolving to wear the coarsest attire and to live upon the most ordinary diet. They hired barns, where they met at six in the evening; expounded, prayed, and sang psalms till towards ten; and then had a lovefeast to communicate their experiences, especially as to love affairs.” “Several fine ladies, who used to wear French silks, French hoops of four yards wide, bob-wigs, and white satin smock petticoats, were turned Methodists, and now wore stuff gowns, common night-mobs, and plain bays for Jennys.”

Numbers of similar extracts might be given from the newspapers and periodicals of 1739; but the reader has had enough of scurrilous and lying hodge-podge to satisfy the cravings of the greatest gossip.

Such were the premonitory mutterings of the storm in which the Methodist movement was cradled. Mobs threatened; newspapers, magazines, and other periodicals fulminated their malicious squibs; prelates, priests, and doctors of divinity became militant pamphleteers; but, in the midst of all, Wesley and his friends calmly proceeded in their glorious calling. Some even, who were animated with a friendly feeling towards them, looked upon their course of conduct with alarm. Good Dr. Doddridge, in a letter dated May 24, 1739, writes:—

“I think the Methodists sincere; I hope some may be reformed, instructed, and made serious by their means. I saw Mr. Whitefield preaching on Kennington Common last week to an attentive multitude, and heard much of him at Bath; but, supposing him sincere and in good earnest, I still fancy that he is but a weak man—much too positive, says rash things, and is bold and enthusiastic. I am most heartily glad to hear that any real good is done anywhere to the souls of men; but whether these Methodists are in a right way—whether they are warrantable in all their conduct,—whether poor people should be urged, through different persons successively, to pray from four in the morning till eleven at night, is not clear to me; and I am less satisfied with the high pretences they make to the Divine influence. I think what Mr. Whitefield says and does comes but little short of an assumption of inspiration or infallibility.”[293]

Another friend, Mr. T. Hervey, writing in the same month to Samuel Wesley, at Tiverton, says, that he is anxious “to stop the spread and prevalence of several very strange and pestilent opinions;” and expresses the hope that this may be done effectually by the elder brother of Wesley, whom he designates “the dear, but deluded man.” He then proceeds to state that—

“These pestilent opinions are—1. That the method of education, the distinction, order, degrees, and even robes and habits of the university are all anti-Christian. 2. That nothing is taught in it but learning which opposes the power of God. 3. That whoso is born of God is also taught of God, not in any limited sense, but so as to render the use of all natural means of no effect. 4. That all human learning, however said to be sanctified of God, entirely disqualifies a man from preaching the true gospel of Jesus Christ. 5. That none have a right to preach, but such as are immediately called to it by the Holy Ghost. 6. That an established ministry is a mere invention of man. 7. That the Church of England and all its authority are founded on and supported by a lie; and that all who receive a power of preaching from it are in a state of slavery.”[294]

This was a kind and well meant letter, but it was pregnant with mistakes. Still it tends to show the enormous difficulties encountered by the Methodists at the commencement of their history. Sometimes they met a friend, though not often; and it is a pleasing duty to introduce godly Joseph Williams, of Kidderminster, as one who sympathised with their indefatigable endeavours to save the souls of their fellow men. Under the date of September 17, 1739, he writes concerning the two Wesleys, Whitefield, and Ingham:—

“The common people flock to hear them, and, in most places, hear them gladly. They commonly preach once or twice every day; and expound the Scriptures in the evening to religious societies, who have their society rooms for that purpose.” He then proceeds to give an account of his hearing Charles Wesley preach at Bristol. Standing on a table, in a field, the preacher, with eyes and hands lifted up to heaven, prayed with uncommon fervour and fluency. “He then preached about an hour in such a manner as I scarce ever heard any man preach. Though I have heard many a finer sermon, yet I think I never heard any man discover such evident signs of vehement desire” [to benefit his hearers]. “With unusual fervour, he acquitted himself as an ambassador for Christ; and although he used no notes, nor had anything in his hand but a Bible, yet he delivered his thoughts in a rich, copious variety of expression, and with so much propriety, that I could not observe anything incoherent through the whole performance, which he concluded with singing, prayer, and the usual benediction.

“Afterward, I waited on him at Mr. Norman’s. He received me in a very friendly manner. Before he would take any refreshment, he, with a few friends that waited on him, sung a hymn, and then prayed for a blessing, as at set meals. After tea, we sung another hymn; and then I went with them to the religious society, and found the place so thronged, that it was with great difficulty we reached the centre of it. We found them singing a hymn; he then prayed; and proceeded to expound the twelfth chapter of the gospel of St. John, in a sweet, savoury, spiritual manner. This was followed by singing another hymn; and he then prayed over a great number of bills presented by the society, about twenty of which respected spiritual cases. Never did I hear such praying. Never did I see or hear such evident marks of fervency in the service of God. At the close of every petition, a serious Amen, like a gentle, rushing sound of waters, ran through the whole audience. Such evident marks of a lively fervent devotion, I was never witness to before. If there be such a thing as heavenly music upon earth, I heard it there. I do not remember my heart to have been so elevated in Divine love and praise, as it was there and then, for many years past, if ever. Notwithstanding some errors, which, as mere men, they may be liable to, I cannot but believe that God is with them of a truth, and hath raised them up in this day of general defection from gospel purity, simplicity, and zeal, for signal service and usefulness in His church.”[295]

In a letter to Charles Wesley, written in the month of September, 1739, Williams adds: “I heartily wish you God speed. I bless you in the name of the Lord. Fear not what men can do unto you. With Him your judgment is, and your reward with your God.”[296]

Such a testimony from a man so devout, enlightened, and justly famed as Joseph Williams, the Kidderminster carpet weaver, is quite as weighty as any testimony of an opposite character from either Bishop Gibson, or any priest or prelate then watching on the walls of Zion.

We must now return to Wesley at Bristol. Every night he expounded to societies. These were small gatherings of religious people, which had continued meeting for godly purposes for about the last fifty years;[297] for it is important to remember that the “Religious Societies” formed in the days of Dr. Horneck, previous to the abdication of King James, and again revived in the reign of Queen Mary, were not confined to London and Westminster, but existed in different towns throughout the kingdom. We find them in Oxford, Nottingham, Gloucester, Bristol, Newcastle, Dublin, Kilkenny, and other places; and all acting substantially according to the same rules and regulations. They met to pray, sing psalms, and read the Scriptures together; and to reprove, exhort, and edify one another by religious conference. They also carried out designs of charity, such as supporting lectures and daily prayers in churches, releasing imprisoned debtors, and relieving the poor and sending their children to school. In 1737, Whitefield preached “a sermon before the “Religious Societies” at one of their general quarterly meetings in Bow church, London, from the text, Ecclesiastes iv. 9–12, in which he strongly advocated the practice of Christians meeting together for religious fellowship. “As coals,” says he, “if placed asunder, soon go out, but if heaped together, enliven each other, and afford a lasting heat;” so it is with Christians.

Such were the “Religious Societies” which existed for more than half-a-century before the formation of the “United Societies” of the people called Methodists; and in whose rooms and meetings, in London, Bristol, and elsewhere, Whitefield and the Wesley brothers, for a few years, were accustomed to read and explain the Scriptures almost every night. On arriving in Bristol, Wesley found such societies as these assembling in Castle Street, in Gloucester Lane, in Weavers’ Hall, in Nicholas Street, in the Back Lane, and in Baldwin Street, and at once began expounding to them the Epistle to the Romans, and other portions of the New Testament; and it is a remarkable fact that, with one or two exceptions, all the scenes about to be mentioned took place in these society meetings, or in private dwellings. We furnish them as we find them.

April 17. At Baldwin Street, we called upon God to confirm His word. Immediately, one that stood by cried out aloud, with the utmost vehemence, even as in the agonies of death. But we continued in prayer, till a new song was put into her mouth, a thanksgiving unto our God. Soon after, two other persons were seized with strong pain, and constrained to roar for the disquietude of their heart. But it was not long before they likewise burst forth into praise to God their Saviour. The last who called upon God, as out of the belly of hell, was a stranger in Bristol; and, in a short space, he also was overwhelmed with joy and love, knowing that God had healed his backslidings.

April 21. At Weavers’ Hall, a young man was suddenly seized with a violent trembling all over, and, in a few minutes, sunk to the ground. But we ceased not calling upon God, till He raised him up full of peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.

April 24. At Baldwin Street, a young man, after a sharp though short agony, both of body and mind, found his soul filled with peace, knowing in whom he had believed.

April 26. At Newgate, I was led to pray that God would bear witness to His word. Immediately one, and another, and another sunk to the earth; they dropped on every side as thunderstruck. One of them cried aloud. We besought God in her behalf, and He turned her heaviness into joy. A second being in the same agony, we called upon God for her also; and He spoke peace unto her soul. In the evening, one was so wounded by the sword of the Spirit, that you would have imagined she could not live a moment. But immediately His abundant kindness was shown, and she loudly sang of His righteousness.

April 27. All Newgate rang with the cries of those whom the word of God cut to the heart; two of whom were in a moment filled with joy, to the astonishment of those that beheld them.

April 30. While I was preaching at Newgate, a woman broke out into strong cries and tears. Great drops of sweat ran down her face, and all her bones shook; but both her body and soul were healed in a moment.

May 1. At Baldwin Street, my voice could scarce be heard amidst the groanings of some, and the cries of others calling aloud to Him that is mighty to save; and ten persons then began to say in faith, “My Lord and my God!” A Quaker, who stood by, was very angry, and was biting his lips, and knitting his brows, when he dropped down as thunderstruck. The agony he was in was even terrible to behold. We prayed for him, and he soon lifted up his head with joy, and joined us in thanksgiving. A bystander, John Haydon, a weaver, a man of regular life and conversation, one that constantly attended the public prayers and sacrament, and was zealous for the Church, and against Dissenters, laboured to convince the people that all this was a delusion of the devil; but next day, while reading a sermon on “Salvation by Faith,” he suddenly changed colour, fell off his chair, and began screaming, and beating himself against the ground. The neighbours were alarmed, and flocked together. When I came in, I found him on the floor, the room being full of people, and two or three holding him as well as they could. He immediately fixed his eyes on me, and said, “Ay, this is he I said deceived the people. But God has overtaken me. I said it was a delusion of the devil; but this is no delusion.” Then he roared aloud, “O thou devil! thou cursed devil! yea, thou legion of devils! thou canst not stay in me. Christ will cast thee out. I know His work is begun. Tear me in pieces, if thou wilt; but thou canst not hurt me.” He then beat himself against the ground; his breast heaving, as if in the pangs of death, and great drops of sweat trickling down his face. We all betook ourselves to prayer. His pangs ceased, and both his body and soul were set at liberty. With a clear, strong voice, he cried, “This is the Lord’s doing; and it is marvellous in our eyes. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, from this time forth for evermore.” I called again an hour after. We found his body weak as that of an infant, and his voice lost; but his soul was in peace, full of love, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.[298] The women of our society met at seven, and, during prayer, one of them fell into a violent agony; but soon after began to cry out, with confidence, “My Lord and my God.”

May 12. In the evening, three persons, almost at once, sunk down as dead, having all their sins set in array before them; but, in a short time, they were raised up, and knew that the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world, had taken away their sins.

May 16. While I was declaring at Baptist Mills, “He was wounded for our transgressions,” a middle aged man began violently beating his breast. During our prayer, God put a new song into his mouth.

May 19. At Weavers’ Hall, a woman first, and then a boy, was overwhelmed with sin, and sorrow, and fear. But we cried to God, and their souls were delivered.

May 20. In the evening God spoke to three whose souls were all storm and tempest, and immediately there was a great calm.

May 21. Although the people had seen signs and wonders, yet many would not believe. They could not, indeed, deny the facts; but they could explain them away. Some said, “These were purely natural effects; the people fainted away only because of the heat and closeness of the rooms.” Others were “sure it was all a cheat; they might help it if they would. Else why were these things only in their private societies?” To-day, our Lord answered for Himself; for, while I was preaching, He began to make bare His arm, not in a close room, neither in private, but in the open air, and before more than two thousand witnesses. One, and another, and another were struck to the earth; exceedingly trembling at the presence of His power. Others cried, with a loud and bitter cry, “What must we do to be saved?” And, in less than an hour, seven persons, wholly unknown to me till that time, were rejoicing, and singing, and, with all their might, giving thanks to the God of their salvation. In the evening, at Nicholas Street, I was interrupted, almost as soon as I had begun to speak, by the cries of one who strongly groaned for pardon and peace. Others dropped down as dead. Thomas Maxfield began to roar out, and beat himself against the ground, so that six men could scarcely hold him. Except John Haydon, I never saw one so torn of the evil one. Many others began to cry out to the Saviour of all, insomuch that all the house, and, indeed, all the street for some space, was in an uproar. But we continued in prayer, and the greater part found rest to their souls. I think twenty-nine in all had their heaviness turned into joy this day.

June 15. At Wapping (London), many of those that heard began to call upon God with strong cries and tears. Some sunk down, and there remained no strength in them; others exceedingly trembled and quaked; some were torn with a kind of convulsive motion in every part of their bodies; and that so violently, that often four or five persons could not hold one of them. I have seen many hysterical and many epileptic fits; but none of them were like these, in many respects. One woman was greatly offended, being sure they might help it if they would; but she also dropped down in as violent an agony as the rest. Twenty-six of those who had been thus affected were filled with peace and joy.

June 16. At Fetter Lane, some fell prostrate on the ground; others burst out into loud praise and thanksgiving; and many openly testified, there had been no such day as this since January the first preceding.

June 22. In the society (Bristol) one before me dropped down as dead, and presently a second, and a third. Five others sunk down in half an hour, most of whom were in violent agonies. In their trouble, we called upon the Lord, and He gave us an answer of peace. All, except one, went away rejoicing and praising God.

June 23. This evening another was seized with strong pangs; but in a short time her soul was delivered.

June 24. In the evening, a girl and four or five other persons were deeply convinced of sin; and, with sighs and groans, called upon God for deliverance.

June 25. About ten in the morning J——e C——r, as she was sitting at her work, was suddenly seized with grievous terrors of mind, attended with strong trembling; but, at the society in the evening, God turned her heaviness into joy. Five or six others were also cut to the heart this day; and, soon after, found Him whose hands made whole.

June 26. Three persons terribly felt the wrath of God abiding on them at the society this evening. But, upon prayer being made on their behalf, He was pleased soon to lift up the light of His countenance upon them.

June 30. At Weavers’ Hall, seven or eight persons were constrained to roar aloud; but they were all relieved upon prayer, and sang praises unto our God, and unto the Lamb that liveth for ever and ever.

July 1. A young woman sunk down at Rose Green in a violent agony both of body and mind: as did five or six persons, in the evening, at the new room, at whose cries many were greatly offended. The same offence was given in the morning by one at Weavers’ Hall; and by eight or nine others at Gloucester Lane in the evening.

Here we pause. On June 25, Whitefield wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“HONOURED SIR,—I cannot think it right in you to give so much encouragement to those convulsions which people have been thrown into, under your ministry. Was I to do so, how many would cry out every night? I think it is tempting God to require such signs. That there is something of God in it, I doubt not. But the devil, I believe, interposes. I think it will encourage the French Prophets, take people from the written word, and make them depend on visions, convulsions, etc., more than on the promises and precepts of the gospel.”[299]

Twelve days after, Whitefield was in Bristol, and Wesley wrote as follows:—

“July 7. I had an opportunity to talk with Mr. Whitefield of those outward signs which had so often accompanied the work of God. I found his objections were chiefly grounded on gross misrepresentations of matters of fact. But next day he had an opportunity of informing himself better; for, in the application of his sermon, four persons sunk down close to him, almost in the same moment. One of them lay without either sense or motion. A second trembled exceedingly. The third had strong convulsions all over his body, but made no noise, unless by groans. The fourth, equally convulsed, called upon God, with strong cries and tears. From this time, I trust, we shall all suffer God to carry on His own work in the way that pleaseth Him.”

This was an important crisis. Without expressing any opinion respecting these “signs,” as Wesley calls them, we cannot but admire Wesley’s wish and hope that God may be allowed to work His own work in His own way. Of all men living, Wesley was one of the least likely to desire novelties like these; but he was wise enough, and reverent enough, not to interpose when God was working, and to say, that, unless the work was done after a certain fashion, he should object to its being done at all. Some, in modern times, have been in danger of doing this. Sinners have been undeniably converted; but because they have not been converted at the times, or in the places, or by the instrumentalities which men have chosen to commend, they have objected to such conversions, and tacitly desired not to have them multiplied. This was not Wesley’s way. He was one of the greatest sticklers for church order and religious decorum; but he was not the man to protest, that, unless God’s work was carried on in accordance with his own predilections, he should object to it altogether. His words are golden ones, and worth remembering by all his followers:—“From this time, I trust, we shall all suffer God to carry on His own work in the way that pleaseth Him.”

Whitefield’s objections were silenced. He came, he saw, and he was conquered. He writes, under date of July 7:—

“I had a useful conference about many things with my honoured friend Mr. John Wesley. I found that Bristol had great reason to bless God for his ministry. The congregations I observed to be much more serious and affected than when I left them; and their loud and repeated Amens, which they put up to every petition, as well as the exemplariness of their conversation in common life, plainly show that they have not received the grace of God in vain. Ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but how is it that ye cannot discern the signs of these times? That good, great good, is done is evident. What is it but little less than blasphemy against the Holy Ghost to impute this great work to delusion, and to the power of the devil?”[300]

We resume Wesley’s notices of what he designates the “signs” of the work of God.

July 23. On several evenings this week many were deeply convinced; but none were delivered from that painful conviction. I fear we have grieved the Spirit of the jealous God, by questioning His work; and that, therefore, He is withdrawn from us for a season. But He will return and abundantly pardon.

July 30. Two more were in strong pain, both their souls and bodies being well-nigh torn asunder. But, though we cried unto God, there was no answer. One of them cried aloud, though not articulately, for twelve or fourteen hours; when her soul was set at liberty. She was a servant, and her master forbid her returning to his service, saying, he would have none in his house who had received the Holy Ghost.

August 5. Six persons at the new room were deeply convinced of sin; three of whom were a little comforted by prayer.

August 11. In the evening two were seized with strong pangs, as were four the next evening, and the same number at Gloucester Lane on Monday; one of whom was greatly comforted.

August 14. Three at the new room this evening were cut to the heart; but their wound was not as yet healed.

A fortnight after this, Charles Wesley came to Bristol, and John removed to London. The work still progressed at Bristol. In one instance, a woman screamed for mercy, so as to drown Charles’s voice. On another occasion, he “heard on all sides the sighing of them that were in captivity.” “The Lord added to the church daily.”

In London, numbers had been converted under the ministry of Charles Wesley, Whitefield, and others; but there is no evidence to show that there had been any “convulsions” like those at Bristol. It is also a curious fact, that, though Wesley’s preaching on Kennington Common, in Moorfields, and in other places in the metropolis, was crowned with great success, there were hardly any instances of paralysing paroxysms analogous to those already mentioned. When he returned to Bristol, in October, we find a renewal of such cases.

October 11. A woman showed the agony of her soul by crying aloud to God for help. She continued in great torment all night; but, while we were praying for her in the morning, God delivered her out of her distress.

October 12. I was under some concern, with regard to one or two persons, who were tormented in an unaccountable manner; and seemed to be indeed lunatic, as well as sore vexed.

October 23. I was pressed to visit a young woman at Kingswood. I found her on the bed, two or three persons holding her. Anguish, horror, and despair, above all description, appeared in her pale face. The thousand distortions of her whole body showed how the dogs of hell were gnawing at her heart. The shrieks intermixed were scarce to be endured. She screamed out, “I am damned, damned; lost for ever! Six days ago you might have helped me. But it is past. I am the devil’s now, I have given myself to him: his I am, him I must serve, with him I must go to hell; I will be his, I will serve him, I will go with him to hell; I cannot be saved, I will not be saved. I must, I will, I will be damned!” She then begun praying to the devil. We began,—“Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!” She immediately sank down as asleep; but, as soon as we left off, broke out again, with inexpressible vehemence: “Stony hearts, break! I am a warning to you. Break, break, poor stony hearts! I am damned, that you may be saved. You need not be damned, though I must.” She then fixed her eyes on the corner of the ceiling, and said, “There he is. Come, good devil, come. You said you would dash my brains out: come, do it quickly. I am yours, I will be yours.” We interrupted her by calling again upon God; on which she sunk down as before: and another young woman began to roar out as loud as she had done. My brother now came in, it being about nine o’clock. We continued in prayer till past eleven; when God, in a moment, spoke peace into the soul, first of the first tormented, and then of the other. And they both joined in singing praise to Him who had “stilled the enemy and the avenger.”

October 25. I was sent for to one in Bristol, who was taken ill the evening before. She lay on the ground furiously gnashing her teeth, and after awhile roared aloud. It was not easy for three or four persons to hold her, especially when the name of Jesus was named. We prayed; the violence of her symptoms ceased, though without a complete deliverance. In the evening, I was sent for to her again. She began screaming before I came into the room; then broke out into a horrid laughter, mixed with blasphemy. One, who apprehended a preternatural agent to be concerned in this, asking, “How didst thou dare to enter into a Christian?” was answered, “She is not a Christian—she is mine.” This was followed by fresh trembling, cursing, and blaspheming. My brother coming in, she cried out, “Preacher! Field preacher! I don’t love field preaching.” This was repeated two hours together, with spitting, and all the expressions of strong aversion. We left her at twelve, and called again at noon next day. And now it was, that God showed He heareth prayer. All her pangs ceased in a moment: she was filled with peace, and knew that the son of wickedness was departed from her.

October 27. I was sent for to Kingswood again, to one of those who had been so ill before. A violent rain began just as I set out. Just at that time, the woman (then three miles off) cried out, “Yonder comes Wesley, galloping as fast as he can.” When I was come, she burst into a horrid laughter, and said, “No power, no power; no faith, no faith. She is mine; her soul is mine. I have her, and will not let her go.” We begged of God to increase our faith. Meanwhile, her pangs increased more and more; so that one would have imagined, by the violence of the throes, her body must have been shattered to pieces. One, who was clearly convinced this was no natural disorder, said, “I think Satan is let loose. I fear he will not stop here,” and added, “I command thee in the name of the Lord Jesus, to tell if thou hast commission to torment any other soul.” It was immediately answered, “I have. L——y C——r and S——h J——s.” We betook ourselves to prayer again; and ceased not, till she began, with a clear voice, and composed, cheerful look, to sing, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”

The reader must be told that L——y C——r and S——h J——s lived at some distance, and, at the time, were in perfect health. The day after, they were affected in the same way as the poor creature just delivered. Wesley writes:—

October 28. I called at Mrs. J——s’, in Kingswood. L——y C——r and S——h J——s were there. It was scarce a quarter of an hour before the former fell into a strange agony; and, presently after, the latter. The violent convulsions all over their bodies were such as words cannot describe. Their cries and groans were too horrid to be borne; till one of them, in a tone not to be expressed, said, “Where is your faith now? Come, go to prayers. I will pray with you.” We took the advice, and poured out our souls before God, till L——y C——r’s agonies so increased, that it seemed she was in the pangs of death. But, in a moment, God spoke; and both her body and soul were healed. We continued in prayer till past midnight, when S——h J——s’ voice was also changed, and she began to call upon God. This she did for the greatest part of the night. In the morning, we renewed our prayers, while she was crying continually, “I burn! I burn! O what shall I do? I have a fire within me. I cannot bear it. Lord Jesus! help! Amen, Lord Jesus!”

A few other cases occurred in 1739; and, notably, one on November 30, when seven persons were grievously tormented, and Wesley and his friends continued in prayer from the time of evening service till nine o’clock next morning, that is, for about fifteen hours, a case almost unparalelled in the history of the church of Christ.

These are strange and mysterious facts; and, what adds to the strangeness, is that, excepting the cases in London, on June 15, 16, and September 17, 18, all of them occurred in Bristol and its immediate neighbourhood. During the space of time which these extracts cover, Wesley preached at Bath, Kennington Common, Moorfields, Blackheath, Gloucester, Bradford, Wells, Oxford, and in several towns in Wales, and other places; but scenes like those above described were never witnessed except in Bristol. It is also a curious circumstance, that, though the preaching of Charles Wesley and of Whitefield was quite as faithful as the preaching of Wesley himself, and was far more impassioned, yet no such “signs” seem to have been attendant on their ministry as were attendant on his. Similar effects sometimes followed the preaching of Cennick, during Wesley’s absence in London, but these occurred also either at Kingswood or in Bristol. Writing to Wesley under date of September 12, 1739, he says:—

“On Monday night, I was preaching at the school on the forgiveness of sins, when numbers cried out with a loud and bitter cry. Indeed, it seemed that the devil and the powers of darkness were come among us. My mouth was stopped. The cries were terrifying. It was pitch dark; it rained much; and the wind blew vehemently. Large flashes of lightning and loud claps of thunder mingled with the screams and exclamations of the people. The hurry and confusion cannot be expressed. The whole place seemed to resemble the habitation of apostate spirits; many raving up and down, and crying, ‘The devil will have me; I am his servant! I am damned! My sins can never be pardoned! I am gone, gone for ever!’ A young man was in such horrors, that seven or eight persons could scarce hold him. He roared like a dragon: ‘Ten thousand devils, millions, millions of devils are about me!’ This continued three hours, and what a power reigned amongst us! Some cried out with a hollow voice, ‘Mr. Cennick! Bring Mr. Cennick!’ I came to all that desired me. They then spurned me with all their strength, grinding their teeth, and expressing all the fury that heart can conceive. Their eyes were staring and their faces swollen, and several have since told me, that when I drew near, they felt fresh rage, and longed to tear me in pieces. I never saw the like, nor even the shadow of it before. Yet I was not in the least afraid, as I knew God was on our side.”[301]

Such are the facts; nothing has been distorted, and nothing kept back. They were occasionally repeated after the year 1739, but not often. A few cases subsequently occurred in Bristol, and also in London, and in Newcastle; but nearly all related in Wesley’s Journals are contained in the extracts already given.

What shall be said concerning them? For a hundred and thirty years, they have been sneered at by Wesley’s enemies, and have also puzzled Wesley’s friends. No such results attended Whitefield’s ministry, and Whitefield himself regarded them with suspicion and dislike. Charles Wesley, at Newcastle, in 1743, did his utmost to discourage them. He writes:—

“Many, no doubt, were, at our first preaching, struck down, both soul and body, into the depth of distress. Their outward affections were easy to be imitated. Many counterfeits I have already detected. The first night I preached here, half my words were lost through their outcries. Last night, before I began, I gave public notice that whosoever cried, so as to drown my voice, should be carried to the farthest corner of the room. But my porters had no employment the whole night; yet the Lord was with us, mightily convincing of sin and of righteousness. I am more and more convinced, the fits were a device of Satan to stop the course of the gospel.”[302]

Samuel Wesley was in great doubt respecting them, and, in a letter dated September 3, 1739, asks:—“Did these agitations ever begin during the use of any collects of the Church? or during the preaching of any sermon that had before been preached within consecrated walls without effect? or during the inculcating any other doctrine besides that of your new birth?”[303]

The Rev. Ralph Erskine wrote to Wesley thus: “Some of the instances you give seem to be exemplified, in the outward manner, by the cases of Paul and the gaoler, as also Peter’s hearers (Acts ii.). The last instance you give of some struggling as in the agonies of death, is to me somewhat more inexplicable, if it do not resemble the child of whom it is said, that ‘when he was yet a coming, the devil threw him down and tore him.’ I make no question, Satan, so far as he gets power, may exert himself on such occasions, partly to mar and hinder the beginning of the good work, in the persons that are touched with the sharp arrows of conviction; and partly also to prevent the success of the gospel on others. However, the merciful issue of these conflicts, in the conversion of the persons thus affected, is the main thing.”

Erskine proceeds to state, that they have something, in Scotland, analogous to what had occurred in Bristol. Sometimes a whole congregation, in a flood of tears, would cry out at once, so as to drown the voice of the minister.[304]

The Rev. William Hales, D.D., in his “Methodism Inspected,” accounts for these paroxysms on “natural grounds; the sympathetic nature of all violent emotions being well known to those who have studied the physical and moral constitution of man.”

Southey writes:—

“A powerful doctrine, preached with passionate sincerity, produced a powerful effect upon weak minds, ardent feelings, and disordered fancies. There are passions which are as infectious as the plague, and fear itself is not more so than fanaticism. When once these bodily affections were declared to be the throes of the new birth, a free licence was proclaimed for every kind of extravagance; and when the preacher encouraged them to throw off all restraint, and abandon themselves before the congregation to these mixed sensations of mind and body, the consequences were what might be anticipated.”

Southey forgets that “powerful doctrine” was preached, with as much “passionate sincerity,” by Whitefield and by Charles Wesley, as by Wesley himself; but without the same effects. Besides, it is untrue that Wesley ever “encouraged” the affected people “to abandon themselves to these mixed sensations of mind and body.”

The Rev. R. Watson writes:—

“That cases of real enthusiasm occurred at this and subsequent periods, is indeed allowed. There are always nervous, dreamy, and excitable people to be found; and the emotion produced among these would often be communicated by natural sympathy. No one could be blamed for this, unless he had encouraged the excitement for its own sake, or taught the people to regard it as a sign of grace, which most assuredly Mr. Wesley never did. Nor is it correct to represent these effects, genuine and fictitious together, as peculiar to Methodism. Great and rapid results were produced in the first ages of Christianity, but not without ‘outcries,’ and strong corporeal as well as mental emotions. Like effects often accompanied the preaching of eminent men at the Reformation; and many of the Puritan and Nonconformist ministers had similar successes in our own country. In Scotland, and also among the grave Presbyterians of New England, previous to the rise of Methodism, the ministry of faithful men had been attended by very similar circumstances; and, on a smaller scale, the same results have followed the ministry of modern missionaries of different religious societies in various parts of the world. It may be laid down as a principle established by fact, that whenever a zealous and faithful ministry is raised up, after a long, spiritual dearth, the early effects of that ministry are not only powerful, but often attended with extraordinary circumstances; nor are such extraordinary circumstances necessarily extravagancies because they are not common. It is neither irrational nor unscriptural to suppose, that times of great national darkness and depravity should require a strong remedy; and that the attention of the people should be roused by circumstances which could not fail to be noticed by the most unthinking. We do not attach primary importance to secondary circumstances; but they are not to be wholly disregarded. The Lord was not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still small voice; yet that still small voice might not have been heard, except by minds roused from their inattention by the shaking of the earth and the sounding of the storm.”

Isaac Taylor writes:—

“These disorders resembled, in some of their features, the demoniacal possessions mentioned in the gospel history. The bodily agitations were perhaps as extreme in the one class of instances as in the other; nevertheless, there is no real analogy between the two. The demoniacs were found in this state by Christ where He went preaching; they did not become such while listening to Him. Besides, in no one instance recorded in the Gospels or Acts, did demoniacal possession, or any bodily agitations resembling it, come on as the initial stage of conversion. How then are we to dispose of such cases? Perhaps not at all to our satisfaction, except so far as this, that they serve to render so much the more unambiguous the distinction between themselves and those genuine affections which the apostolic writers describe and exemplify.”

What says Wesley himself? With due deference to the great names quoted, we respect his testimony more than theirs: first, because he was, in sobriety of feeling, in depth of learning, and in clearness of judgment, at least their equal; and secondly, because his opinion was pronounced after being an eye-witness, whilst theirs is founded entirely upon the representations of others, and their own ideas of how things ought to be.

1. The cases were real, not pretended, and often ended in genuine conversion. “You deny,” writes Wesley at the time, “You deny that God does now work these effects; at least, that He works them in this manner. I affirm both; because I have heard these things with my own ears, and have seen them with my own eyes. I have seen very many persons changed, in a moment, from the spirit of fear, horror, despair, to the spirit of love, joy, and peace; and from sinful desire, till then reigning over them, to the pure desire of doing the will of God. I know several persons, in whom this great change was wrought in a dream, or during a strong representation to the eye of their mind, of Christ either on the cross, or in glory. This is the fact; let any judge of it as they please.”[305]

2. Why were these things permitted? Wesley says: “Perhaps it might be because of the hardness of our hearts, unready to receive anything unless we see it with our eyes and hear it with our ears, that God, in tender condescension to our weakness, suffered so many outward signs of the very time when He wrought this inward change to be continually seen and heard among us. But although they saw ‘signs and wonders’ (for so I must term them), yet many would not believe. They could not indeed deny the facts; but they could explain them away.”[306]

3. How were these extraordinary circumstances brought about? Wesley again shall answer. Five years after—when he had heard all that his enemies had to say—when such convulsive agitations no longer happened—and when he had had sufficient time to test the genuineness of these remarkable Bristol and Kingswood conversions, and to form a calm judgment upon the whole, he wrote as follows:—“The extraordinary circumstances that attended the conviction or repentance of the people may be easily accounted for, either on principles of reason or Scripture. First, on principles of reason. For how easy is it to suppose, that a strong, lively, and sudden apprehension of the heinousness of sin, the wrath of God and the bitter pains of eternal death, should affect the body as well as the soul, during the present laws of vital union;—should interrupt or disturb the ordinary circulations, and put nature out of its course? Yea, we may question, whether, while this union subsists, it be possible for the mind to be affected, in so violent a degree, without some or other of those bodily symptoms following. Secondly, it is likewise easy to account for these things on principles of Scripture. For when we take a view of them in this light, we are to add to the consideration of natural causes the agency of those spirits who still excel in strength, and, as far as they have leave from God, will not fail to torment whom they cannot destroy; to tear those that are coming to Christ. It is also remarkable that there is plain Scripture precedent of every symptom which has lately appeared.”[307]

We have nothing more to add. Perhaps the reader will think that more has been said than the thing deserved. We demur to that opinion. The phenomena recorded are among the most remarkable in church history; they are curious and mysterious; they have given rise to endless critiques, both friendly and otherwise, and, for such reasons, merit the space we have devoted to them. Dr. Hales’ doctrine of “the sympathetic nature of all violent emotions,” though true, is not sufficient to account for many of the instances related. Southey’s opinion is flippant, and is based upon false assumptions. Watson’s is of great importance, and, as contained at greater length in his Life of Wesley, is the most elaborate discussion of the subject that has yet been written. Isaac Taylor’s, to some extent, coincides with Wesley’s; which, upon the whole, is the clearest, fullest, and the best.

Other events, belonging to the year 1739, must now be noticed.

Kingswood, so often mentioned, was formerly a royal chase, containing between three and four thousand acres; but, previous to the rise of Methodism, it had been gradually appropriated by the several lords whose estates encircled it. The deer had disappeared, and the greater part of the wood also; coal mines had been discovered, and it was now inhabited by a race of people, as lawless as the foresters, their forefathers, but far more brutal; and differing as much from the people of the surrounding country in dialect as in appearance. They had no place of worship; for Kingswood then belonged to the parish of St. Philip, and was, at least, three miles distant from the parish church.[308] The people were famous for neither fearing God nor regarding man; and so ignorant of sacred things that they seemed but one remove from the beasts that perish. They were utterly without desire of instruction, as well as without the means of it. The place resounded with cursing and blasphemy. It was filled with clamour and bitterness, wrath and envyings, idle diversions, drunkenness, and uncleanness;[309] a hell upon earth. Only fifteen weeks before Whitefield’s first visit, the colliers had risen with clubs and firearms, and gone from pit to pit threatening the lives of all the workmen who would not join them in defeating the ends of justice, in reference to a riot that had occurred a short time previously. At White Hill, four mines were filled up; and carts, reels, and ropes belonging to others were cut and burned. The soldiers were called out, and the swarthy rioters ran away.[310]

Kingswood was Whitefield’s first field-pulpit, for here, on February 17, 1739, he began his glorious career of out-door preaching. Within six weeks after this, the day before Wesley came to Bristol, Whitefield dined with the colliers, who contributed upwards of £20 towards the erection of a school. Four days after this, the miners prepared him another hospitable entertainment, after which he laid the foundation stone, knelt upon it, and offered prayer, to which the colliers said, “Amen.”[311]

On the same day, Whitefield took his departure from Bristol, leaving Wesley as his successor; and, with the exception of a visit of a week’s duration in the month of July following, he was not at Kingswood again during the next two years. Whitefield began the school at Kingswood: the colliers gave upwards of £20; Whitefield collected £40 in subscriptions; and, on two subsequent occasions, he made collections for the same purpose, once when he preached his farewell sermon at Bristol, on July 13, before embarking for America; and once in Moorfields, when the sum of £24 9_s._ was contributed.[312] This was all. The rest devolved on Wesley. He alone was responsible for the payment of the debts incurred; and, for many months, wherever he went, he begged subscriptions for the colliers’ school. The school itself consisted of one large room, with four smaller ones for the teacher’s residence, and was not completed till the spring of 1740.[313] The object was to teach the children of the poor, first religion, and then to read, write, and cast accounts; but Wesley also expected to have “scholars of all ages, some of them grey-headed,” who were to be taught, separate from the children, “either early in the morning, or late at night,” so that their work might not be hindered by their education.[314]

Within six weeks after Whitefield laid the first stone of Kingswood school, Wesley took possession of a piece of ground in the Horse Fair, Bristol, and began to build a room large enough to contain the societies of Nicholas Street and Baldwin Street. This was done without the least apprehension or design of his being personally engaged, either in the expense of the work, or in the direction of it; he having appointed eleven trustees, by whom he supposed the burdens would be borne. He soon found that he had made a great mistake. In a short time, a debt was contracted of more than £150, whereas the subscriptions of the trustees and of the two societies were not a quarter of that amount. This debt devolved upon him. He had no money, nor any human prospect or probability of procuring any; but he knew “the earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof,” and he dared to trust Him. Besides this, Whitefield and other friends in London most strongly objected to the building being the property of trustees, on the ground that Wesley would be under their control; and, unless his preaching pleased them, they might eject him from the house he himself had built. Whitefield declared that, unless the trustship was destroyed, neither he nor his friends would contribute anything towards the expenses. Wesley yielded; the trustees were summoned; all agreed to the alteration; the deed was cancelled; and Wesley became the sole proprietor.

This, though insignificant at the time, was a matter of great importance; for, in this manner, nearly all the chapels, erected in the early part of his career, were vested in himself,—a thing involving serious responsibility, which, however, was honourably fulfilled; for trusts were afterwards created; and, by his “Deed of Declaration,” all his interests in his chapels were transferred to his Legal Conference.

Thus we find Wesley, with no income whatever, except the small amount arising out of his Oxford fellowship, involved in what, to a poor man, were two serious undertakings. But even this was not all the burden that he took upon himself. He spent the beginning of November in London; and whilst there, two gentlemen, then unknown to him, came again and again, urging him to preach in a place called the Foundery, near Moorfields. With much reluctance he consented. He writes:—“Sunday, November 11, I preached at eight to five or six thousand, on the spirit of bondage and the spirit of adoption; and, at five in the evening, to seven or eight thousand, in the place which had been the king’s foundery for cannon.”[315] He was then pressed to take the place into his own hands. He did so. The purchase-money was £115; but the place being “a vast, uncouth heap of ruins,” a large sum additional to this had to be expended in needful repairs, in building two galleries for men and women hearers respectively, and in enlarging a room for the society to almost thrice its present size. To meet this large expenditure, Ball, Watkins, and other friends lent him the purchase-money; and offered to pay subscriptions, some four, some six, and some ten shillings a year towards the liquidation of the debt. In three years, these subscriptions amounted to about £480, leaving however a balance of nearly £300, for which Wesley was still responsible.[316] From this it would seem that the entire cost of the old Foundery was about £800.

This was the first Methodist meeting-house of which the metropolis could boast, and a brief description of it may not be out of place.

It stood in the locality called “Windmill Hill,” now known by the name of Windmill Street, a street that runs parallel with City Road, and abuts on the north-west corner of Finsbury Square. The building was placed on the east side of the street, some sixteen or eighteen yards from Providence Row; and measured about forty yards in front, from north to south, and about thirty-three yards in depth, from east to west. There were two front doors, one leading to the chapel, and the other to the preacher’s house, school, and bandroom. A bell was hung in a plain belfry, and was rung every morning at five o’clock for early service, and every evening at nine for family worship; as well as at sundry other times. The chapel, which would accommodate some fifteen hundred people, was without pews; but, on the ground floor, immediately before the pulpit, were about a dozen seats with back rails, appropriated to female worshippers. Under the front gallery were the free seats for women; and, under the side galleries, the free seats for men. The front gallery was used exclusively by females, and the side galleries by males. “From the beginning,” says Wesley, “the men and women sat apart, as they always did in the primitive church; and none were suffered to call any place their own, but the first comers sat down first. They had no pews; and all the benches for rich and poor were of the same construction.”[317]

The bandroom was behind the chapel, on the ground floor, some eighty feet long and twenty feet wide, and accommodated about three hundred persons. Here the classes met; here, in winter, the five o’clock morning service was conducted; and here were held, at two o’clock, on Wednesdays and Fridays, weekly meetings for prayer and intercession. The north end of the room was used for a school, and was fitted up with desks; and at the south end was “The Book Room” for the sale of Wesley’s publications.

Over the bandroom were apartments for Wesley, in which his mother died;[318] and, at the end of the chapel was a dwelling house for his domestics and assistant preachers; while attached to the whole was a small building used as a coach-house and stable.[319]

Why was the building called the Foundery? Because, for a number of years, it was used by the government in casting cannon. When Wesley bought it, the edifice had been a ruin for about twenty years. In 1716, whilst recasting the injured guns taken from the French in the successful campaigns of Marlborough, a terrible explosion blew off the roof, shook the building, killed several of the workmen, burnt others, and broke the limbs of not a few. This led to an abandonment of the place, and the removal of the royal foundery to Woolwich.[320] The next occupants were Wesley and the Methodists; and the echoes of prayer and praise succeeded the clang of anvils and the roar of furnaces of fire.

When first opened, it was described by Silas Told as “a ruinous place, with an old pantile covering,” the structure to a great extent consisting of “decayed timbers,” and the pulpit being made of “a few rough boards.”[321] It may be interesting, to the curious reader, to add, that a few years ago, the old Foundery bell, used in calling the people to the five o’clock preaching, was still in existence, and was attached to the school at Friar’s Mount, London; that, at the present moment, the old Foundery pulpit is preserved at Richmond, and is used by the Richmond students every week; and that the old Foundery chandelier is now in use in the chapel at Bowes, in Yorkshire.

This was really the cradle of London Methodism. Here Wesley began to preach at the end of 1739. The character of the services held in this rotten, pantile covered building may be learnt from Wesley’s Works. Wesley began the service with a short prayer, then sung a hymn and preached (usually about half an hour), then sung a few verses of another hymn, and concluded with a prayer. His constant theme was, salvation by faith, preceded by repentance, and followed by holiness.[322] The place was rough and the people poor; but the service simple, scriptural, beautiful. No wonder, that such a priest, shut out of the elaborately wrought pulpits of the Established Church, and now cooped up within a pulpit made of “rough deal boards,” should be powerful, popular, and triumphant.

Passing from pulpits to preachers, we must venture here to correct an error, which, from the first, seems to have been current in the Methodist community. All Methodist historians have assumed that Thomas Maxfield was Methodism’s first lay preacher; that is, the first who was allowed to expound the Scriptures without being formally ordained to that holy service. This is a mistake. Thomas Maxfield was not converted until the 21st of May, 1739; and yet, a month after this, we find John Cennick, the converted land surveyor, employed with Wesley’s sanction, in preaching to the Kingswood colliers.

Methodism’s first lay preacher deserves a passing notice. He has never yet had justice done him, and we regret that limited space prevents justice being rendered even here.

John Cennick was the son of Quakers, and, from infancy, was taught to pray every night and morning. At thirteen years of age, he went nine times, from Reading to London, to be apprenticed to a trade, but all to no purpose, except that he was taken on trial by a carpenter, who refused to retain his services when the time was come for his being bound. In 1735, John was convinced of sin, while walking in Cheapside, and, at once, left off song singing, card playing, and attending theatres. Sometimes he wished to go into a popish monastery, to spend his life in devout retirement. At other times, he longed to live in a cave, sleeping on fallen leaves, and feeding on forest fruits. He fasted long and often, and prayed nine times every day. He was afraid of seeing ghosts, and terribly apprehensive lest he should meet the devil. Fancying dry bread too great an indulgence for so great a sinner as himself, he began to feed on potatoes, acorns, crabs, and grass; and often wished he could live upon roots and herbs. At length, on September 6, 1737, he found peace with God, and went on his way rejoicing. Like Howel Harris, he, at once, commenced preaching; and also began to write hymns, a number of which Charles Wesley, in July, 1739, corrected for the press.

We have already seen that, in March, 1739, Wesley and Cennick met at Reading. Shortly after that, Whitefield proposed that Cennick should become the master of the school in Kingswood, whose first stone was laid in the month of May; and, on the 11th of June, off he set on foot, from Reading to Bristol, sleeping all night in an old stable on his way. On arriving there, he found that Wesley had gone to London; but was invited to go to Kingswood to hear a young man (query, Thomas Maxfield?) read a sermon to the colliers. The place for meeting was under a sycamore tree, near the intended school. Four or five hundred colliers were assembled, but the young reader had not arrived. Cennick was requested to take his place; he reluctantly complied, preached a sermon, and says, “The Lord bore witness with my words, insomuch that many believed in that hour.” Cennick preached again on the day following, and on the succeeding sabbath twice.

Meanwhile Howel Harris came; and, on the ensuing Tuesday, Wesley. How did Wesley receive the two lay preachers? Harris went to Wesley’s lodgings. They fell upon their knees; and Harris writes, “He was greatly enlarged in prayer for me, and for all Wales.” Full of holy feeling, the Welsh evangelist crossed the channel, and found wider doors of usefulness than ever. Cennick too was not restrained. He tells us, that many of the people desired Wesley to forbid him; but, so far from doing so, he encouraged him; and, thus encouraged, he preached constantly in Kingswood and the neighbouring villages for the next eighteen months, and sometimes supplied Wesley’s place in Bristol, when he was absent, preaching in other towns.[323]

Honour to whom honour is due. We repudiate the wish to take from Maxfield a particle of fame, which of right belongs to him; but there cannot be a doubt that John Cennick was one of Wesley’s lay preachers before Maxfield was. Neither is there aught contradictory to this in Wesley’s writings. It is true, that Wesley, after mentioning that the first society was formed at the end of 1739, goes on to say: “After a time, a young man, Thomas Maxfield, came and desired to help me as a son in the gospel;”[324] but this is not opposed to the fact, that John Cennick had already helped him at Kingswood, Bristol, and other places. Myles thinks that it is probable, that Maxfield, Richards, and Westall were all employed by Wesley in the beginning of the year 1740.[325] Perhaps so; but we have already seen that Cennick was preaching, with the approbation and encouragement of Wesley, as early as the month of June, 1739.[326]

This is not the place to pursue the footsteps of Methodism’s first lay preacher. Suffice it to remark, though his career was comparatively short, in zealous and successful labour it is difficult to equal it. Cennick had his weaknesses; but, in deadness to the world, communion with God, Christian courage, and cheerful patience, he had few superiors. Despite his Calvinism and his differences with Wesley, we admire and love the man. He died in 1755.

Here then was another momentous step taken by the arch-Methodist. Wesley had been bred within a strict ecclesiastical enclosure. He was firm in his attachment to the principles and practices of the English Church, and was far from being indifferent to the prerogatives of its priests; but he was far too wise and reverent a man to say that the salvation of the human family would be too dearly purchased if promoted by a departure from church usages. Christianity, though conserved by church order, does not exist for the sake of it. As a student of church history, Wesley must have known that, again and again, unless order had given way to a higher necessity, the gospel, instead of holding on its way in its brightness and in its purity, would, long ere now, in the hands of idolizers of ancient rules, have been extinguished in the very path where it ought to have shed an unceasing flame. In no man was there a greater combination of docility and courage; and hence, when Wesley met with men like Cennick, full of fervent consciousness of the reality, power, and blessedness of Christ’s religion; and employing a style, terse from intensity of feeling, and copious from the fulness of their theme,—no wonder that, instead of forbidding, he encouraged them to preach the glorious truths, which they not merely understood, but felt.

This was a startling innovation; and, doubtless, horrified the stereotyped ministries and priesthoods existing round about; but the fields were white to the harvest, and the labourers were few; and Wesley could not, durst not, forbid an increase to the staff, because the added workers had not been trained in colleges, and came not in all the priestly paraphernalia of surplices and hoods, gowns and bands. No doubt he would have preferred the employment of clerics like himself; but, in the absence of such, he was driven to adopt the measure which we think the salvation of his system, and, in some respects, its glory.

“I knew your brother well,” said Robinson, the Archbishop of Armagh, when he met Charles Wesley at the Hotwells, Bristol: “I knew your brother well; I could never credit all I heard respecting him and you; but one thing in your conduct I could never account for, your employing laymen.” “My Lord,” said Charles, “the fault is yours and your brethren’s.” “How so?” asked the primate. “Because you hold your peace, and the stones cry out.” “But I am told,” his grace continued, “that they are unlearned men.” “Some are,” said the sprightly poet, “and so the dumb ass rebukes the prophet.” His lordship said no more.[327]

The following letter of Whitefield has not been previously printed so fully as at present. As it was written at the time when Cennick began preaching, it may appropriately be inserted here. Its references to other matters are also deeply interesting.

“LONDON, June 25, 1739.

“HONOURED SIR,—I suspend my judgment of Brother Watkins’ and Cennick’s behaviour till I am better acquainted with the circumstances of their proceeding. I think there is a great difference between them and Howel Harris. He has offered himself thrice for holy orders; him therefore and our friends at Cambridge I shall encourage: others I cannot countenance in acting in so public a manner. The consequences of beginning to teach too soon will be exceeding bad—Brother Ingham is of my opinion.

“I hear, honoured sir, you are about to print a sermon on predestination. It shocks me to think of it; what will be the consequences but controversy? If people ask me my opinion, what shall I do? I have a critical part to act, God enable me to behave aright! Silence on both sides will be best. It is noised abroad already, that there is a division between you and me. Oh, my heart within me is grieved!

“Providence to-morrow calls me to Gloucester. If you will be pleased to come next week to London, I think, God willing, to stay a few days at Bristol. Your brother Charles goes to Oxon. I believe we shall be excommunicated soon. May the Lord enable us to stand fast in the faith; and stir up your heart to watch over the soul of, honoured sir,

“Your dutiful son and servant, GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Mrs. Grevil’s, a Grocer in Wine Street, Bristol.”

We must proceed to another matter. Wesley writes:—

“In the latter end of the year 1739, eight or ten persons came to me in London, who appeared to be deeply convinced of sin, and earnestly groaning for redemption. They desired, I would spend some time with them in prayer, and advise them how to flee from the wrath to come. That we might have more time for this great work, I appointed a day when they might all come together, which, from thenceforward, they did every Thursday, in the evening. To these, and as many more as desired to join with them, (for the number increased daily,) I gave those advices, from time to time, which I judged most needful for them; and we always concluded our meeting with prayer suited to their several necessities. This was the rise of the United Society, first in London, and then in other places.”[328]

In another place, he writes:—

“The first evening about twelve persons came; the next week, thirty or forty. When they were increased to about a hundred, I took down their names and places of abode, intending, as often as it was convenient, to call upon them at their houses. Thus, without any previous plan, began the Methodist Society in England,—a company of people associating together to help each other to work out their own salvation.”[329]

No doubt the whole of this is strictly true; but there are other facts to be remembered.

By the preaching of the two Wesleys and of Whitefield, a large number of persons in London had been converted; and most of these had been incorporated in the Moravian bands. When Wesley went to Bristol, at the end of March, the work in London devolved, to a great extent, on his brother Charles. Disputes soon sprung up. On Easter day, Charles had a conversation with Zinzendorf “about motions, visions, and dreams, and was confirmed in his dislike to them.” On April 28, Whitefield preached in Islington churchyard; and, after he had done, Bowers, a Moravian, got up to speak. Charles Wesley says: “I conjured him not; but he beat me down, and followed his impulse.” On the 16th of May, a dispute arose, in the Moravian meeting at Fetter Lane, about lay preaching. Many were zealous for it; but Whitefield and Charles Wesley declared against it. In June, another Moravian, John Shaw, “the self-ordained priest,” as Charles Wesley calls him, “was brimful of proud wrath and fierceness”; and two others, Bowers and Bray, whom Whitefield designated “two grand enthusiasts,” followed Charles to Blendon, “drunk with the spirit of delusion.” In the Moravian society, Shaw “pleaded for his spirit of prophecy”; and charged Charles Wesley “with love of pre-eminence, and with making his proselytes twofold more the children of the devil than they were before.” Many misunderstandings and offences had crept in; and Wesley came from Bristol to put things right. A humiliation meeting was held at Fetter Lane; and “we acknowledged,” says Wesley, “our having grieved God by our divisions; ‘one saying, I am of Paul; another, I am of Apollos’; by our leaning again to our own works, and trusting in them, instead of Christ; by our resting in those little beginnings of sanctification, which it had pleased Him to work in our souls; and, above all, by blaspheming His work among us, imputing it either to nature, to the force of imagination and animal spirits, or even to the delusion of the devil.” Things seem to have proceeded more smoothly till about September, when, in the absence of the two Wesleys, “certain men crept in among them unawares, telling them, that they had deceived themselves, and had no true faith at all. ‘For,’ said they, ‘none has any justifying faith, who has ever any doubt or fear, which you know you have; or who has not a clean heart, which you know you have not; nor will you ever have it, till you leave off running to church and sacrament, and praying, and singing, and reading either the Bible, or any other book; for you cannot use these things without trusting in them. Therefore, till you leave them off, you can never have true faith; you can never till then trust in the blood of Christ.’”[330]

This was a serious heresy; and, on November 1, Wesley hurried up to London to put a check to it. He acknowledges, that the Moravians still held the grand doctrine of justification by faith; and that the fruits of faith were “righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.” He testifies, that they were free from the sins of swearing, theft, gluttony, drunkenness, and adultery; that they had no diversions but such as become saints; that they regarded not outward adorning, and were not slothful in business. He confesses, that they fed the hungry, and clothed the naked; that their discipline was scarce inferior to that of the apostolic age; and, that every one knew and kept his proper place; but, despite all this, he found them far from perfect.

On first entering the society, he found Mr. Bray “highly commending the being still before God; and speaking largely of the danger that attended the doing of outward works, and of the folly of people running about to church and sacrament.”

On Sunday, November 4, the “society met at seven in the morning, and continued silent till eight.” In the evening, at Fetter Lane, “some of the brethren asserted in plain terms: 1. That, till they had true faith, they ought to be still; that is, to abstain from the means of grace, the Lord’s supper in particular. 2. That the ordinances are not means of grace, there being no other means than Christ.”

Three days later, Wesley had a long conference with Spangenberg, who substantially avowed the same opinions. At night, the Fetter Lane society sat an hour without speaking; and then there followed a warm dispute, to prove that none ought to receive the Lord’s supper till he had “the full assurance of faith.” Every day Wesley met with many “who once knew in whom they had believed, but were now thrown into idle reasonings, and were filled with doubts and fears. Many had left off the means of grace, saying they must now cease from their own works, and must trust in Christ alone; that they were poor sinners, and had nothing to do but to lie at His feet.”

Wesley did his utmost to correct this state of things, and then, on November 21, went back to Bristol. On his way, he came to Wycombe, where he unexpectedly met Mr. Gambold and a Mr. Robson. He writes: “After much consultation and prayer, we agreed—1. To meet yearly at London on the eve of Ascension day. 2. To fix then the business to be done the ensuing year; where, when, and by whom. 3. To meet quarterly there, as many as can; viz., on the second Tuesday in July, October, and January. 4. To send a monthly account to one another, of what God hath done in each of our stations. 5. To inquire whether Messrs. Hall, Sympson, Rogers, Ingham, Hutchins, Kinchin, Stonehouse, Cennick, Oxlee, and Brown will join with us herein. 6. To consider whether there be any others of our spiritual friends, who are able and willing so to do.”[331] This arrangement is important as indicative of Wesley’s purpose at this early period of his history; but it was never put into execution. The rupture with the Moravians made it a dead letter.

Five weeks afterwards, he returned to London with a heavy heart. “Scarce one in ten of the Moravians retained his first love; and most of the rest were in the utmost confusion, biting and devouring one another.” His soul was sick of their “sublime divinity.” He had a long conversation with Molther, one of their ministers, and ascertained that the difference between them was the following:—

1. The Moravians held that there are no degrees of faith; and that no man has any degree of it, before he has the full assurance of faith, the abiding witness of the Spirit, or the clear perception that Christ dwelleth in him. Wesley dissented from this.

2. The Moravians taught that the way to attain faith is to wait for Christ, and be still: that is, not to use the means of grace; not to go to church; not to communicate; not to fast; not to use private prayer; not to read the Scriptures; not to do temporal good; nor to attempt doing spiritual good; because it was impossible for a man to use means like these without trusting in them. Wesley believed just the opposite.

3. The Moravians thought that in propagating faith, guile might be used: (1) By saying what we know will deceive the hearers, or lead them to think the thing which is not; (2) by describing things a little beyond the truth, in order to their coming up to it; (3) by speaking as if we meant what we did not mean. Wesley denounced all this.

4. The Moravians believed that the fruits of their thus propagating the faith in England were: (1) Much good had been done by it; (2) many were unsettled from a false foundation; (3) many were brought into true stillness; (4) some were grounded on the true foundation, who were wrong before. Wesley, on the contrary, thought that very little good, but much hurt, had been done, by such proceedings.

This was the state of things when Wesley “began the first Methodist society in England.” He was dissatisfied with his old Moravian friends, and well he might. He had been prominent in the formation of their society at Fetter Lane, on the 1st of May, 1738; but his hopes and aspirations concerning it were blighted; and hence he formed another society of his own. Moravian heresies had, in London at least, corrupted the Moravian bands; numbers were offended; these and others repaired to Wesley; Wesley took down their names, and met them every Thursday evening for spiritual advice and prayer; success followed; and the Methodist society was instituted. We must return to this subject in the next chapter.

Wesley spent most of the year 1739 in Bristol and the immediate neighbourhood; but, at different times, he rendered important service in other places. At Blackheath, he preached to twelve or fourteen thousand people; and on Kennington Common to twenty thousand. In Moorfields, he had a congregation of ten thousand. In Gloucester he preached to seven thousand;[332] and in Bath, Bradford, and elsewhere, to great multitudes. He also preached, at least once, in the mansion of Lady Huntingdon, taking a bold text for such a fashionable audience: “The cares of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires of other things, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.”

He also met with some adventures and incidents worth mentioning. In riding to Rose Green, his horse suddenly fell, and rolled over and over. A gentleman, at Bradford, who had wished him good luck in the name of the Lord, told him that his fellow collegians at Oxford always considered him “a little crack-brained.” In one instance, the pressgang came when he was in the middle of his sermon, and seized one of his hearers. While preaching in Turner’s Hall, London, the floor gave way, but fortunately the vault below was filled with hogsheads of tobacco, so that the crowded congregation only sunk a foot or two, and he proceeded without further interruption. At Oxford, he was grieved to find that none now visited the workhouse and the prison, and that the Methodist little school was about to be given up. At Stanley, on a little green, he preached for two hours amid the darkness of an October night. At Newport, he addressed “the most insensible, ill behaved people” he had seen in Wales; one old man cursing and swearing incessantly, and taking up a great stone to throw at him. The people of Wales generally he found as ignorant of gospel truth as the Cherokee Indians; and asks, “What spirit is he of, who had rather these poor creatures should perish for lack of knowledge than that they should be saved, even by the exhortations of Howel Harris, or an itinerant preacher?” Words these well worth pondering; for they are added proof, that Wesley, even as early as 1739, was not opposed to the employment of lay evangelists.

The principle upon which Wesley acted was to shrink from nothing that he judged to be conducive to his being made a Christian.[333] On this ground he went to Georgia, and to Germany; and says, “I am ready to go to Abyssinia or China, or whithersoever it shall please God to call me.” He was accused of being an enemy of the Church of England; but maintained that he was not. The doctrines he preached were the doctrines of the Church, as laid down in her prayers, articles, and homilies. He allows that there were five points of difference between him and many of the clergy; but he contends that they, not he, were unfaithful to the Church. The points were these:—1. Those from whom he differed spoke of justification, either as the same thing with sanctification, or as something consequent upon it. He believed it to be wholly distinct from sanctification, and necessarily antecedent to it. 2. They spoke of good works as the cause of justification. He believed the death and righteousness of Christ to be the whole and sole cause of it. 3. They spoke of good works as existing previous to justification. He believed that no good work is possible, previous to justification, and therefore no good work can be a condition of it; till we are justified we are ungodly, and incapable of good works; we are justified by faith alone, faith without works, faith producing all good works, yet including none. 4. They spoke of sanctification as if it were an outward thing. He believed it to be an inward thing,—the life of God in the soul of man; a participation of the Divine nature; the mind that was in Christ. 5. They spoke of the new birth as synonymous with baptism; or, at most, a change from a vicious to a virtuous life. He believed it to be an entire change of nature, from the image of the devil, wherein we are born, to the image of God; a change from earthly and sensual to heavenly and holy affections. “There is, therefore,” says he, “a wide, essential, fundamental, irreconcilable difference between us. If they speak the truth as it is in Jesus, I am found a false witness before God. But if I teach the way of God in truth, they are blind leaders of the blind.”[334] He contends that he “simply described the plain, old religion of the Church of England, which was now almost everywhere spoken against, under the new name of Methodism.”[335]

Wesley was a great reader; and some of the most interesting entries in his Journals are his critiques on books; but, in 1739, he seems to have been too busy preaching to have had time for reading. The only notice of this kind is the following: “1739, October 23. In riding to Bradford, I read over Mr. Law’s book on the new birth. Philosophical, speculative, precarious; Behmenish, void, and vain! ‘O what a fall is there!’” This is a harsh reflection upon an old friend; but, about a year and a half before, there had been the unfortunate quarrel with William Law, already mentioned. See pp. 185‒8.

Up to the present, Wesley’s mother had been his chief counsellor. Immediately after his conversion in May, 1738, he went to Germany, and returned to England in September. It so happened, that he and his mother had no interview until nine months after this. Before he went to Herrnhuth, he had related to her the particulars of his conversion, for which “she heartily blessed God, who had brought him to so just a way of thinking.” Meanwhile, however, she had been prejudiced against him, and had entertained “strange fears concerning him, being convinced that he had greatly erred from the faith.” This was not of long continuance. Hence the following entry in Wesley’s journal:—

“1739, September 3.—I talked largely with my mother, who told me that, till a short time since, she had scarce heard such a thing mentioned as the having God’s Spirit bearing witness with our spirit: much less did she imagine that this was the common privilege of all true believers. ‘Therefore,’ said she, ‘I never durst ask for it myself. But two or three weeks ago, while my son Hall was pronouncing these words, in delivering the cup to me, “The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ which was given for thee,” the words struck through my heart, and I knew God, for Christ’s sake, had forgiven me all my sins.‘ “I asked whether her father (Dr. Annesley) had not the same faith; and whether she had not heard him preach it to others. She answered, he had it himself; and declared, a little before his death, that, for more than forty years, he had no darkness, no fear, no doubt at all of his being accepted in the Beloved. But that, nevertheless, she did not remember to have heard him preach, no, not once, explicitly upon it: whence she supposed he also looked upon it as the peculiar blessing of a few; not as promised to all the people of God.”[336]

Ever after this, Susannah Wesley resided chiefly in London, and attended the ministry of her sons John and Charles. She heartily embraced their doctrines, and conversed with the members of their society. Hence the following from one of her letters to Charles, dated December 27, 1739:—

“Your brother, whom I shall henceforth call Son Wesley, since my dear Sam is gone home, has just been with me, and much revived my spirits. Indeed, I have often found that he never speaks in my hearing without my receiving some spiritual benefit. But his visits are seldom and short; for which I never blame him, because I know he is well employed, and, blessed be God, hath great success in his ministry. But, my dear Charles, still I want either him or you; for, indeed, in the most literal sense, I am become a little child, and need continual succour. For these several days, I have had the conversation of many good Christians, who have refreshed, in some measure, my fainting spirits. I hope we shall shortly speak face to face. But then, alas! when you come, your brother leaves me! Yet that is the will of God, in whose blessed service you are engaged; who has hitherto blessed your labours, and preserved your persons. That He may continue so to prosper your work, and protect you both from evil, and give you strength and courage to preach the true gospel, in opposition to the united powers of evil men and evil angels, is the hearty prayer of, dear Charles,

“Your loving mother, “SUSANNAH WESLEY.”[337]

Reference is made in the above extract to the death of Samuel Wesley, which occurred on November 6, 1739, at the early age of forty-nine. Up to the very last, he was strongly opposed to the Methodist movement of his brothers. In a letter to his mother, written only seventeen days before his death, he says:—

“My brothers are now become so notorious, that the world will be curious to know when and where they were born, what schools bred at, what colleges of in Oxford, and when matriculated, what degrees they took, and where, when, and by whom ordained. I wish they may spare so much time as to vouchsafe a little of their story. For my own part, I had much rather have them picking straws within the walls, than preaching in the area of Moorfields.

“It was with exceeding concern and grief, I heard you had countenanced a spreading delusion, so far as to be one of Jack’s congregation. Is it not enough that I am bereft of both my brothers, but must my mother follow too? I earnestly beseech the Almighty to preserve you from joining a schism at the close of your life, as you were unfortunately engaged in one at the beginning of it. It will cost you many a protest, should you retain your integrity, as I hope to God you will. They boast of you already as a disciple.

“They design separation. They are already forbidden all the pulpits in London; and to preach in that diocese is actual schism. In all likelihood, it will come to the same all over England, if the bishops have courage enough. They leave off the liturgy in the fields; and though Mr. Whitefield expresses his value for it, he never once read it to his tatterdemalions on a common. Their societies are sufficient to dissolve all other societies but their own. Will any man of common sense, or spirit, suffer any domestic to be in a band, engaged to relate to five or to ten people everything, without reserve, that concerns the person’s conscience, howmuchsoever it may concern the family? Ought any married persons to be there, unless husband and wife be there together? This is literally putting asunder whom God hath joined together.

“As I told Jack, I am not afraid the Church should excommunicate him (discipline is at too low an ebb), but, that he should excommunicate the Church. It is pretty near it. Holiness and good works are not so much as conditions of our acceptance with God. Lovefeasts are introduced, and extemporary prayers, and expositions of Scripture, which last are enough to bring in all confusion; nor is it likely they will want any miracles to support them. He only who ruleth the madness of the people can stop them from being a formed sect. Ecclesiastical censures have lost their terrors; thank fanaticism on the one hand, and atheism on the other. To talk of persecution from thence is mere insult. It is—

“To call the bishop, Grey-beard Goff, And make his power as mere a scoff As Dagon, when his hands were off.”[338]

Sixteen nights after writing the above, Samuel Wesley went to bed as well as usual. At three next morning, he was seized with illness, and, four hours afterwards, expired. John Wesley, at the time, was in London, and Charles in Bristol; but, as soon as possible, they hastened to Tiverton, where they rejoiced to hear that, several days before he went hence, God had given to their brother a calm and full assurance of his interest in Christ.

In reviewing the events of the year 1739, it only remains to notice Wesley’s publications. These were the following:—

1. “An Abstract of the Life and Death of Mr. Thomas Halyburton. With recommendatory Epistle by George Whitefield, and Preface by John Wesley.” Oswald: London. 1739.

Halyburton was a Scotchman, and was born in 1674. At the age of twenty-six, he became a Presbyterian minister. Ten years afterwards, he was appointed Professor of Divinity in the college of St. Andrews; but almost immediately was seized with pleurisy, and died in the thirty-seventh year of his age.

Wesley’s preface is dated “London, February 9, 1739,” and the book was published within a few weeks afterwards; for Wesley’s brother Samuel, in a letter bearing date, April 16, 1739, says: “I have got your abridgment of Halyburton; and, if it please God to allow me life and strength, I shall demonstrate that the Scot as little deserves preference to all Christians, as the book to all writings but those you mention. There are two flagrant falsehoods in the very first chapter. But your eyes are so fixed upon one point, that you overlook everything else. You overshoot, but Whitefield raves.”[339]

Wesley’s abridged Life of Halyburton is a beautifully written, and most edifying book. Why did Wesley publish it? There can be but little doubt that his chief reasons were:—1. Because it contains a living exemplification of real religion. And 2. Because Halyburton’s struggles, doubts, fears, and general experience, previous to his finding peace with God, through faith in Christ, bear a striking resemblance to the case of Wesley himself. After describing that the kingdom of God, within us, is holiness and happiness, and that the way of attaining it is a true and living faith, Wesley, in his preface, says: “This work of God in the soul of man is so described in the following treatise, as I have not seen it in any other, either ancient or modern, in our own or any other language; so that I cannot but value it, next to the holy Scripture, above any other human composition, except only the ‘Christian’s Pattern,’ and the small remains of Clemens Romanus, Polycarp, and Ignatius.”

In the same preface, Wesley propounds thus early a doctrine, which afterwards held a conspicuous place in the system of truth he taught. In answering the objection, that “the gospel covenant does not promise entire freedom from sin,” he writes: “What do you mean by the word sin? Do you mean those numberless weaknesses and follies, sometimes improperly termed sins of infirmity? If so, we shall not put off these but with our bodies. But if you mean, it does not promise entire freedom from sin, in its proper sense, or from committing it, this is by no means true, unless the Scripture be false. Though it is possible a man may be a child of God, who is not fully freed from sin, it does not follow that freedom from sin is impossible; or that it is not to be expected by all. It is described by the Holy Ghost as the common privilege of all.”

2. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1739, was entitled: “Nicodemus; or, a Treatise on the Fear of Man. From the German of Augustus Herman Francke. Abridged by John Wesley.” Bristol: S. and F. Farley. 1739.

The subject of the treatise was peculiarly adapted to Wesley’s present position; and the whole is written in his best, nervous, clear, classic style.

3. Wesley’s third publication was two treatises of ninety-nine pages, 12mo; the first on Justification by Faith only; the second on the Sinfulness of Man’s Natural Will, and his utter inability to do works acceptable to God until he be justified and born again of the Spirit of God: by Dr. Barnes. “With Preface, containing some account of the author, extracted from the Book of Martyrs. By John Wesley.”

This was another book congenial to Wesley’s present feelings; inasmuch as it was full of the great doctrine, which was now the theme of his daily ministry.

4. Towards the end of 1739,[340] Wesley published his tract, entitled “The Character of a Methodist.” He states, that the name of Methodists is not one which they have taken to themselves, but one fixed upon them by way of reproach, without their approbation or consent. The tract was written at the urgent request of numbers of people, who were anxious to know what were “the principles, practice, and distinguishing marks of the sect which was everywhere spoken against.” The distinguishing marks of a Methodist are, not his opinions, though the Methodists are fundamentally distinguished from Jews, Turks, and infidels; from Papists; and from Socinians and Arians: neither are the marks of a Methodist “words or phrases:” nor “actions, customs, or usages of an indifferent nature:” nor the laying of the whole stress of religion on any single part of it. “A Methodist is one who has the love of God shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost given unto him; one who loves the Lord his God with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his mind, and with all his strength. He rejoices evermore, prays without ceasing, and in everything gives thanks. His heart is full of love to all mankind, and is purified from envy, malice, wrath, and every unkind or malign affection. His own desire, and the one design of his life is not to do his own will, but the will of Him that sent him. He keeps not only some, or most of God’s commandments, but all, from the least to the greatest. He follows not the customs of the world; for vice does not lose its nature through its becoming fashionable. He fares not sumptuously every day. He cannot lay up treasures upon earth any more than he can take fire into his bosom. He cannot adorn himself, on any pretence, with gold or costly apparel. He cannot join in any diversion that has the least tendency to vice. He cannot speak evil of his neighbour, no more than he can tell a lie. He cannot utter unkind, or idle words. No corrupt communication ever comes out of his mouth. He does good unto all men; unto neighbours and strangers, friends and enemies.” “These,” says Wesley, “are the principles and practices of our sect; these are the marks of a true Methodist. By these alone do Methodists desire to be distinguished from other men.”

Such were Methodists when Methodism was first founded in 1739. No wonder God was with them, and honoured them with such success. Is John Wesley’s Character of a Methodist descriptive of all the Methodists living now? Would to God it were!

5. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1739, was entitled: “Hymns and Sacred Poems. Published by John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford; and Charles Wesley, M.A., Student of Christ Church, Oxford.” London: 12mo, pages 223.

As this book has recently been reprinted by the Methodist Conference Office, (“Wesley Poetry,” vol. i.,) a detailed description of its contents is not necessary. Suffice it to remark, that, besides the productions of his brother, the volume contains at least twenty translations from the German by Wesley himself, and that these are among the finest hymns the Methodists ever sing. In fact, with a few exceptions, the hymns of the two Wesleys are the only productions in the book worth having. Many are devout but literary rubbish, and utterly unworthy of being used in public worship. Some of the poems are passable; a few are beautiful; but others might have been left, without any loss to the Christian public, in the limbo of oblivion. Had the publication consisted only of John and Charles Wesley’s hymns, it would have been one of the choicest productions ever printed; as in other things, so in this, an admixture made it weak.

6. It may be added, that it was probably in 1739 that Wesley published an extract of his journal, from his embarking for Georgia, October 14, 1735, to his return to London, February 1, 1737; but of this we are not certain, the first edition being without date.

The substance of this has been already given, and hence we pass, at once, to the year 1740.

1740.

[Sidenote: 1740 Age 37]

The Moravian wranglings brought Wesley to the metropolis in 1739; and, on the 3rd of January following, he left his friends, still “subverting one another’s souls by idle controversies and strife of words;” and came to Bristol on January 9.

Here he purposed to remain; but within a month he was back to London. A young surgeon, of the name of Snowde, had met in Bristol a man of the name of Ramsey, who in a state of destitution and distress had applied to Wesley for relief. Wesley employed him in writing and in keeping accounts for him, and afterwards in teaching a school instituted by the Bristol society.[341] Ramsey brought the young surgeon to hear Wesley preach. Both were rascals, and availed themselves of an opportunity of stealing £30 that had been collected towards building Kingswood school. Snowde went off to London; fell in with his old acquaintance; committed highway robbery; was arrested, tried, and condemned to die. While in Newgate, awaiting the execution of his sentence, he wrote to a friend, adjuring Wesley, “by the living God,” to come and see him before his death. Wesley, who had been robbed so sacrilegiously, started off, on a journey of more than two hundred miles, purposely to visit the convict thief. He found him apparently penitent, and having only a week to live. On the day before his sentence was to be executed, the poor creature wrote:—“I trust God has forgiven me all my sins, washing them away in the blood of the Lamb.” Next morning a reprieve was sent, and, six weeks afterwards, he was ordered for transportation. Whether Wesley assisted in obtaining the commutation of his sentence we have no means of knowing;[342] but as soon as the affair was settled he returned to Bristol; where, with the exception of a brief interval of about a week’s duration, he continued until the month of June. The rest of the year, excepting about three weeks, was spent in London.

In Bristol, the work, in its outward aspects, was greatly altered. Wesley writes:—“Convictions sink deeper and deeper; love and joy are more calm, even, and steady.”

Still there were a few instances similar to those that had occurred in the previous year. On January 13, while he was administering the sacrament at the house of a sick person in Kingswood, a woman “sunk down as dead.” A week after, she was “filled with the love of God, and with all peace and joy in believing.” On January 24, after he had preached in Bristol, another woman caught hold of him, crying:—“I have sinned beyond forgiveness. I have been cursing you in my heart, and blaspheming God. I am damned; I know it; I feel it; I am in hell; I have hell in my heart.” On April 3, the congregations in Bristol were remarkably visited; and “the cries of desire, joy, and love were on every side.” Five weeks after, another phase of excitement was presented. The people began to laugh; and, though it was a great grief to them, the laughing spirit was stronger than they were able to resist. One woman, who was known to be no dissembler, “sometimes laughed till she was almost strangled; then she broke out into cursing and blaspheming; then stamped and struggled with incredible strength, so that four or five could scarce hold her; then cried out, ‘O eternity, eternity! O that I had no soul! O that I had never been born!’ At last, she faintly called on Christ to help her,” and her excitement ceased. Most of the society were convinced, that those who laughed had no power to help it; but there were two exceptions: Elizabeth B—— and Anne H——. At length, says Wesley, “God suffered Satan to teach them better. Both of them were suddenly seized in the same manner as the rest, and laughed whether they would or no, almost without ceasing. Thus they continued for two days, a spectacle to all; and were then, upon prayer made for them, delivered in a moment.”

What are we to think of this? Wesley attributes it to Satan, and, in confirmation of his opinion, recites an instance which had occurred in his own history while at Oxford. According to their custom on Sundays, he and his brother Charles were walking in the meadows, singing psalms, when all at once Charles burst into a loud fit of laughter. Wesley writes:—“I asked him if he was distracted; and began to be angry. But presently I began to laugh as loud as he; nor could we possibly refrain, though we were ready to tear ourselves in pieces. We were forced to go home without singing another line.”

Amidst all this, however, there were happy deaths at Bristol. Margaret Thomas died in the highest triumph of faith, her will swallowed up in the will of God, and her hope full of immortality.[343] And one of the Kingswood converts “longed to be dissolved and to be with Christ;” some of her last words being, “I know His arms are round me; for His arms are like the rainbow, they go round heaven and earth.” These were among the first Methodists that entered heaven; and, no doubt, it was deaths like theirs which prompted not a few of the triumphant funereal hymns that gushed so exultingly from the poetic soul of Wesley’s brother.

The New Room at Bristol, as the first Methodist meeting-house was called, was now opened. Wesley expounded and preached daily, choosing for exposition the Acts of the Apostles, and for sermons the greatest texts of the New Testament. He was also one of the most active of philanthropists. The severity of the frost in January threw hundreds out of work, and reduced them to a state bordering on starvation; but Wesley made collections, and fed a hundred, and sometimes a hundred and fifty, hungry wretches in a day. He visited Bristol Bridewell, and tried to benefit and to comfort poor prisoners, till the commanding officer gave strict orders that neither Wesley nor any of his followers should in future be admitted, because he and they were all atheists. Of these same Bristol “atheists,” Wesley himself writes, “They were indeed as little children, not artful, not wise in their own eyes, not doting on controversy and strife of words; but truly determined to know nothing save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” Such they were when Wesley left them at the beginning of the month of June; and such his brother found them. “O what simplicity,” remarks Charles Wesley, “is in this childlike people! O that our London brethren would come to school at Kingswood! These are what they pretend to be. God knows their poverty; but they are rich.”[344]

Unfortunately broils generally broke out where Charles was pastor. This was his affliction, if not his fault. Before June was ended, he began to “rebuke sharply” some who thought themselves elect. He also read his journal to the bands “as an antidote to stillness.” When some of the people cried out, he “bade them to be quiet.” He reproved Hannah Barrow before the assembled society at Kingswood; and exercised discipline upon others. All this might be proper and expedient; but it was evidently of little use; for, when his brother returned to Bristol on September 1, his first sermon was addressed to backsliders. He met with one who had become wise far above what is written; and another who had been lifted up with the abundance of joy God had given her, and had fallen into blasphemies and vain imaginations. Later in the year, he found many “lame and turned out of the way.” There were “jealousies and misunderstandings.” There had been a Kingswood riot, on account of the dearness of corn. Charles Wesley rushed into the midst of it, and, finding a number of his converted colliers, who had been forced to join the disturbers of the public peace, he “gleaned a few from every company,” and “marched with them singing to the school,” where they held a two hours’ prayer-meeting, that God would chain the lion. He had to warn the people against apostasy. Some could not refrain from railing. John Cennick, in December, told Wesley that he was not able to agree with him, because he failed to preach the truth respecting election. The predestinarians formed themselves into a party, “to have a church within themselves, and to give themselves the sacrament in bread and water.”[345] So that when Wesley, on December 26, went to Kingswood, in order to preach at the usual hour, there was not more than half-a-dozen of the Kingswood people to hear him, all the others having become the followers of Calvinistic Cennick.

There were other troubles in Bristol, in 1740. After several disturbances in the month of March, the mob, on the 1st of April, filled the street and court and alleys round the place where Wesley was expounding, and shouted, cursed, and swore most fearfully. A number of the rioters were arrested; and, within a fortnight, one of them had hanged himself; a second was seized with serious illness, and sent to desire Wesley’s prayers; and a third came to him, confessing that he had been hired and made drunk to create disturbance, but, on coming to the place, found himself deprived of speech and power.

Concurrent with this unpleasantness, other parties used their utmost endeavours to prejudice the mind of Howel Harris, gleaning up idle stories concerning Wesley, and retailing them in Wales. “And yet these,” says Wesley, “are good Christians! these whisperers, talebearers, backbiters, evil speakers! Just such Christians as murderers or adulterers!” The curate of Penreul averred, upon his personal knowledge, that Wesley was a papist. Another man, a popish priest named Beon, while Wesley was preaching in Bristol, cried out, “Thou art a hypocrite, a devil, an enemy to the Church. This is false doctrine. It is not the doctrine of the Church. It is damnable doctrine. It is the doctrine of devils.” At Upton, the bells were rung to drown his voice. At Temple church, the converted colliers, and even Wesley’s brother Charles, were repelled from the sacramental table, and threatened with arrest. William Seward, the friend and travelling companion of George Whitefield, came to Bristol, and renounced the friendship of the two Wesleys, “in bitter words of hatred;” and Mr. Tucker preached against them, and condemned their irregularities in reforming and converting men.

So much respecting Bristol: let us turn to London. For the first five months, in 1740, Charles Wesley was the pastor of the London Moravians and Methodists, but conjoined with him was Philip Henry Molther, who was the Moravian favourite.

Molther was a native of Alsace, and a divinity student in the university of Jena. In 1737, he became the private tutor of Zinzendorf’s only son, and instructed him in French and music. On the 18th of October, 1739, he arrived in London, on his way to Pennsylvania. Bohler had left England; and the society in Fetter Lane was under the care of the two Wesleys.[346] Being an ordained Moravian minister, the people were anxious to hear Molther preach. At first, he spoke to them in Latin, with the help of an interpreter; but shortly was able to make himself understood in English. He was not satisfied with the Fetter Lane Moravians, for, says he, they had “adopted many most extraordinary usages.” The first time he entered their meeting, he was alarmed and almost terror stricken at “their sighing and groaning, their whining and howling, which strange proceeding they called the demonstration of the Spirit of power.” Molther, however, soon became extremely popular. Not only was the meeting-house in Fetter Lane filled with hearers, but the courtyard as well. Within a fortnight after his arrival, Wesley came from Bristol, “and the first person he met with was one whom he had left strong in faith, and zealous of good works; but who now told him, that Molther had fully convinced her she never had any faith at all, and had advised her, till she received faith, to be still, ceasing from outward works.” This was on November 1; and what followed, to the end of 1739, has been related already.

In January, 1740, Molther requested Wesley to furnish him with a translation of a German hymn; and the magnificent one beginning, “Now I have found the ground wherein,” was the result. For this, Molther, in a letter dated January 25, 1740, thanks the translator, and says, “I like it better than any other hymn I have seen in English.” He then adds:—

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I love you with a real love in the wounds of my Redeemer; and whenever I remember England, and the labourers in the kingdom of our Saviour therein, you come in my mind; and I can but pray our Lord, that He may open to you the hidden treasures of the mysteries of the gospel, which, as I have seen by two of your discourses, you want to know and to experience a little more in its depths. It is a blessed thing to preach out of that fulness, and by experimental notions of the blood of Christ. If you seek for this as an empty, poor sinner, it undoubtedly will be given you, because it is only for such; and when we cannot reach it with our desires, we may surely believe that our hearts are not empty vessels. This is a very great and important thing, and a mystery as well as all other things, unless the Lord hath revealed them unto us. I wish that our Saviour, for His own sake, may give you an entire satisfaction in this matter, and fill up your heart with a solid knowledge of His bloody atonement. My love to your brother Charles and all your brethren. I am your affectionate and unworthy brother,

“P. H. MOLTHER.”[347]

From this vague and misty epistle, it is evident that the views of Molther were not entertained by Wesley. For this we are thankful. Who can tell what is meant by loving a man “in the wounds of the Redeemer”? and by having the heart filled “up with a solid knowledge of His bloody atonement”? With all his imperfections, Wesley had learned to express his ideas in language much preferable to this.

Molther remained in the metropolis till about September, 1740, when, instead of proceeding to Pennsylvania as he intended, he was recalled to Germany. During this ten months‘residence, his diligence was exemplary, but its results disastrous. In the daytime, he visited from house to house. At nights, he met the bands, and often preached. James Hutton, in a letter to Zinzendorf, dated March 14, 1740, writes:—

“MOST BELOVED BISHOP AND BROTHER,—

“My heart is poor, and I feel continually, that the blood of Christ will be a great gift, when I can obtain it to overstream my heart.

“At London, Molther preaches four times a week in English to great numbers; and, from morning till night, he is engaged in conversing with the souls, and labouring to bring them into better order. They get a great confidence towards him, and many of them began to be in great sorrow when they expected him to be about to go away. I humbly beg you would leave him with us, some time longer at the least. He continues very simple, and improves exceedingly in the English language. The souls are exceedingly thirsty, and hang on his words. He has had many blessings. The false foundation many had made has been discovered, and now speedily the one only foundation, Christ Jesus, will be laid in many souls.

“John Wesley, being resolved to do all things himself, and having told many souls that they were justified, who have since discovered themselves to be otherwise, and having mixed the works of the law with the gospel as means of grace, is at enmity against the Brethren. Envy is not extinct in him. His heroes falling every day almost into poor sinners, frightens him; but, at London, the spirit of the Brethren prevails against him. In a conference lately, where he was speaking that souls ought to go to church as often as they could, I besought him to be easy and not disturb himself, and I would go to church as often as he would meet me there; but he would not insist on it. He seeks occasion against the Brethren, but I hope he will find none in us. I desired him simply to keep to his office in the body of Christ, i.e. to awaken souls in preaching, but not to pretend to lead them to Christ. But he will have the glory of doing all things. I fear, by-and-by, he will be an open enemy of Christ and His church. His brother Charles is coming to London, determined to oppose all such as shall not use the means of grace, after his sense of them. I am determined to be still. I will let our Saviour govern this whirlwind. Both John Wesley and Charles are dangerous snares to many young women. Several are in love with them. I wish they were married to some good sisters; though I would not give them one of mine, even if I had many.

“In Yorkshire, Ingham and W. Delamotte are united to the Brethren. Some thousand souls are awakened. They are a very simple people. Some months will be necessary to bring them into order, and Toltschig will not hurry as we Englishmen do.

“At Oxford, some good souls at first could not be reconciled with lay teaching, stillness, etc.; but now some will come to Christ. About six are in a fine way. Fifty, or thereabouts, come to hear Viney three times a week, and he gets their hearts more and more. He is poor in spirit, and gradually returns to first principles.

“At Bristol, the souls are wholly under C. Wesley, who leads them into many things, which they will find a difficulty to come out of; for, at present, I believe, it will not be possible to help them. First their leader must feel his heart, or the souls must find him out.

“In Wales, some thousands are stirred up. They are an exceedingly simple and honest people, but they are taught the Calvinistic scheme. However, the young man, Howel Harris, who has been the great instrument in this work, is very teachable and humble, and loves the Brethren.

“My father and mother are in the same state, or rather in a worse. My sister is much worse than ever. But, when grace can be received, they will be blessed instruments, and bring great glory to Him in whose heart’s blood I desire to be washed.

“I am your poor, yet loving brother, and the congregation’s child,

“JAMES HUTTON.”[348]

This is a long, loose letter; but important, as descriptive of the Wesleys and of the work of God in general, from the standpoint of the Moravians. They evidently thought themselves the prime, if not the only, instruments in the present great revival; and this, excepting Scotland, Wales, and Bristol, to a great extent, was true. The work they had already done and contemplated was marvellous. A curious letter, dated December, 1739, is published in Doddridge’s Diary and Correspondence, vol. iii., p. 265, in which Zinzendorf addresses Doddridge as “the very reverend man, much beloved in the bowels of the blessed Redeemer, pastor of Northampton, and vigilant theologian.” Recounting the triumphs of the gospel, he tells the Northampton pastor that Switzerland has heard the truth; Greenland resounds with the gospel; thirty Caffrarians had been baptized; and a thousand negroes in the West Indies. Savannah, the Carolinas, Pennsylvania, Berbice, and Surinam were expecting fruit; ten or fifteen heathen tribes in Virginia were about to be visited; Ceylon and Lapland had both been reached; the gospel was being preached in Russia; Wallachia was succoured; Constantinople was blessed; through the whole of Germany the churches were preparing for Christ; and the Brethren were about to go to the East Indies, to Persian Magi, and to New York savages. All this had been done within the last twenty years. The Moravians, like a hive of bees, were all workers. By the grace of God, they had accomplished wonders; and yet, in London at least, through false teaching, they were in danger of being wrecked. The Wesleys tried to keep them right; but, in doing so, incurred censure instead of receiving thanks. A long extract from one of James Hutton’s letters has just been given; and another must be added. He writes:—

“John Wesley, displeased at not being thought so much of as formerly, and offended with the easy way of salvation as taught by the Brethren, publicly spoke against our doctrines in his sermons, and his friends did the same. In June, 1740, he formed his Foundery society, in opposition to the one which met at Fetter Lane, and which had become a Moravian society. Many of our usual hearers consequently left us, especially the females. We asked his forgiveness, if in anything we had aggrieved him, but he continued full of wrath, accusing the Brethren that they, by dwelling exclusively on the doctrine of faith, neglected the law, and zeal for sanctification. In short, he became our declared opponent, and the two societies of the Brethren and Methodists thenceforward were separated, and became independent of each other.”[349]

This is a painful subject; and hitherto, by both Moravian and Methodist historians, has been touched with a tender hand; but men have a right to know the foibles and follies of the good and great, as well as the virtues and victories for which they have been wreathed with honour. Besides, the recent publication of the memoirs of James Hutton renders it requisite that something more should be said respecting the squabbles of 1740.

In the extracts just given, Hutton accuses Wesley of telling men that they were justified when they were not; of envy; of being at enmity against the Moravians; of being able to awaken sinners, but not to lead them to the Saviour; of being a dangerous snare to young females; and of being displeased at the decline of his popularity, and offended with the Brethren’s easy method of salvation. Is all this true? Let us see. The Moravian statements have been given with the utmost honesty; let the reader take the Methodist statements on the other side.

Be it borne in mind, that Wesley was one of the original members of the Fetter Lane society, founded on the 1st of May, 1738; whereas Molther was first introduced among them in the month of October, 1739. Uneasiness and cavils sprung up immediately after Molther’s arrival; and, before the year was ended, Wesley had to come twice from Bristol to try to check germinating evils, and to put wrong things right.

On New Year’s day, 1740, he writes: “I endeavoured to explain to our brethren the true, Christian, scriptural stillness, by largely unfolding these words, ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’” The day after, he “earnestly besought them to ‘stand in the old paths.’ They all seemed convinced, and cried to God to heal their backslidings.” Wesley adds: “He sent forth such a spirit of peace and love, as we had not known for many months before.” Next day, January 3, Wesley set out for Bristol, and returned a month afterwards. He now found his old friends pleading for “a reservedness and closeness of conversation,” which perplexed him. He was told that “many of them, not content with leaving off the ordinances of God themselves, were continually troubling those that did not, and disputing with them, whether they would or no.” He “expostulated with them, and besought them to refrain from perplexing the minds of those who still waited for God in the ways of His own appointment.”

Thus he left them on the 3rd of March. Meanwhile, “poor perverted Mr. Simpson” declared to Charles Wesley, that no good was to be got by what he called the means of grace, neither was there any obligation to use them; and that most of the Brethren had cast them off. Charles, accompanied by Thomas Maxfield, called on Molther, who talked “against running after ordinances. They parted as they met, without prayer or singing; for the time for such exercises was past.” Maxfield was scandalized, and Charles Wesley foresaw that a separation was unavoidable. On Easter day, when preaching at the Foundery, he appealed to the society, and asked, “Who hath bewitched you, that you should let go your Saviour, and deny you ever knew Him?” A burst of sorrow followed; but, on going to Mr. Bowers’, in the evening, to meet the bands, the door was shut against him; and proceeding to Mr. Bray’s, the brazier, he was threatened with expulsion from the Moravian society. The day after, at Fetter Lane, Simpson reproved him for mentioning himself in preaching, and for preaching up the ordinances. He answered, that he should not ask him, or any of the Brethren, how an ambassador of Christ should preach. He adds: “I went home, weary, wounded, bruised, and faint, through the contradiction of sinners; poor sinners, as they call themselves,—these heady, violent, fierce contenders for stillness. I could not bear the thought of meeting them again.” Simpson said, “‘No soul can be washed in the blood of Christ, unless it first be brought to one in whom Christ is fully formed. But there are only two such ministers in London, Bell and Molther.’ Is not this robbing Christ of His glory, and making His creature necessary to Him in His peculiar work of salvation? First perish Molther, Bell, and all mankind, and sink into nothing, that Christ may be all in all. A new commandment, called ‘stillness,’ has repealed all God’s commandments, and given a full indulgence to corrupted nature. The still ones rage against me; for my brother, they say, had consented to their pulling down the ordinances, and here come I, and build them up again.”

During the week, Simpson called upon Charles Wesley, and “laid down his two postulatums:—1. The ordinances are not commands. 2. It is impossible to doubt after justification.” In a society meeting, at the Foundery, he further stated that “no unjustified person ought to receive the sacrament; for, doing so, he ate and drank his own damnation;” and J. Bray declared, that it was “impossible for any one to be a true Christian out of the Moravian church.”

Simpson wrote to Wesley wishing him to return to London; and, on April 23, he came, and found confusion worse confounded than ever. “Believers,” said Simpson, “are not subject to ordinances; and unbelievers have nothing to do with them. They ought to be still; otherwise they will be unbelievers as long as they live.” Wesley writes: “After a fruitless dispute of about two hours, I returned home with a heavy heart. In the evening, our society met; but it was cold, weary, heartless, dead. I found nothing of brotherly love among them now; but a harsh, dry, heavy, stupid spirit. For two hours, they looked one at another, when they looked up at all, as if one half of them was afraid of the other.” “The first hour passed in dumb show; the next in trifles not worth naming.”[350]

The two Wesleys went to Molther, who explicitly affirmed, that no one has any faith while he has any doubt; and that none are justified till they are sanctified. He also maintained, that, until men obtain clean hearts and are justified, they must refrain from using the means of grace, so called; but, after that, they are at perfect liberty to use them, or to use them not, as they deem expedient. They are designed only for believers; but are not enjoined even upon them.

Wesley was at his wits’ end; numbers came to him every day, once full of peace and love, but now plunged into doubts and fears. Just at this juncture, his brother printed his fine hymn, of twenty-three stanzas, entitled “The Means of Grace,” and circulated it “as an antidote to stillness.”[351] “Many,” said Charles, “insist that a part of their Christian calling is liberty from obeying, not liberty to obey. ‘The unjustified,’ say they, ‘are to be still; that is, not to search the Scriptures, not to pray, not to communicate, not to do good, not to endeavour, not to desire; for it is impossible to use means, without trusting in them.’ Their practice is agreeable to their principles. Lazy and proud themselves, bitter and censorious towards others, they trample upon the ordinances, and despise the commands of Christ.”

Wesley preached from the text, “Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die;” and “demonstrated to the society, that the ordinances are both means of grace, and commands of God.”[352] It was also probably at this period that he preached his able and discriminating sermon on the same subject, and which is published in his collected works. He specifies as the chief means of grace:—1. Prayer. 2. Searching the Scriptures; which implies reading, hearing, and meditating thereon. 3. Receiving the Lord’s supper. He allows, however, that, if these means are used as a kind of commutation for the religion they were designed to serve, it is difficult to find words to express the enormous folly and wickedness of thus keeping Christianity out of the heart by the very means which were ordained to bring it in. All outward means whatever, if separate from the Spirit of God, cannot profit the man using them. They possess no intrinsic power; and God is equally able to work by any, or by none at all. Wesley then proceeds to prove from Scripture, that, “all who desire the grace of God are to wait for it in the means which He hath ordained; in using, not in laying them aside.” He likewise answers the following objections:—1. You cannot use these means without trusting in them. 2. This is seeking salvation by works. 3. Christ is the only means of grace. 4. The Scripture directs us to wait for salvation. 5. God has appointed another way—“Stand still, and see the salvation of God.” Finally, Wesley concludes thus:—“1. Retain a lively sense that God is above all means, and can convey His grace, either in or out of any of the means which He hath appointed. 2. Be deeply impressed with the fact, that there is no power nor merit in any of the means. The opus operatum, the mere work done, profiteth nothing. Do it because God bids it. 3. In and through every outward thing, seek God alone, looking singly to the power of His Spirit, and the merits of His Son.” The whole sermon is intensely Wesleyan; full of keenly defined and powerfully enforced Scripture truths. Let the reader read it: it will benefit both his head and heart; and, perused in the light of these painful facts, it possesses historic interest of great importance. Such a sermon must have had a powerful influence at such a time, and bold was the man, who, in the midst of such disputers, had the fidelity to preach it.

It was a time of great anxiety. The work in London was in danger of being wrecked; and, more than that, some of Wesley’s oldest and most trusted friends, in this afflictive emergency, proved unfaithful.

The Rev. George Stonehouse, vicar of Islington, was converted in 1738, chiefly through the instrumentality of Charles Wesley, who, for a time, officiated as his curate. Many were the warm-hearted meetings, held, by the first Methodists, in the vicar’s house. His affection for the two Wesleys was great; and, in November 1738, when they were forsaken by all their friends, and well-nigh penniless, he offered to find them home and maintenance; and yet, six months afterwards, he yielded to his churchwardens, and allowed Charles Wesley to be excluded from his church. Imbibing Molther’s heresies, Stonehouse sold his living, married the only daughter of Sir John Crispe, joined the Moravians, and retired to Sherborne, in the west of England, where he fitted up a place capable of accommodating five hundred people, in which to hold Moravian meetings. In 1745, he had a lovefeast, the room being grandly illuminated with thirty-seven candles adorned with flowers; and all the sisters present being dressed in German fashion. Shortly after this, he abandoned the Brethren altogether,[353] and appears henceforth to have spent his days in inglorious stillness, enjoying the benefits of a quiet religion and a harmless life.[354]

Wesley sought counsel of his friend Ingham, and received in reply the following letter, full of piety and mistiness, and now for the first time published.

“OSSET, February 20, 1740.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—You ask, what are the marks of a person that is justified, but not sealed?

“I cannot give you any certain, infallible marks. One to whom the Lord has given the gift of discerning could tell; but without that gift none else can know surely. However, it may be said, that justified persons are meek, simple, and childlike; they have doubts and fears; they are in a wilderness state; and, in this state, they are to be kept still and quiet, to search more deeply into their hearts, so that they may become more and more humble. They are likewise to depend wholly upon Christ; and to be kept from confusion; for, if they come into confusion, they receive inconceivable damage.

“On the other hand, if they continue meek, gentle, still,—if they search into their hearts, and depend on Christ, they will find their hearts to be sweetly drawn after Him; they will begin to loathe and abhor sin, and to hunger and thirst after righteousness; they will get strength daily; Christ will begin to manifest Himself by degrees; the darkness will vanish, and the day-star will arise in their hearts. Thus they will go on from strength to strength, till they become strong; and then they will begin to see things clearly; and so, by degrees, they will come to have the assurance of faith.

“You ask whether, in this intermediate state, they are ‘children of wrath,’ or ‘heirs of the promises’?

“Without doubt, they are children of God, and in a state of salvation. A child may be heir to an estate, before it can speak, or know what an estate is; so we may be heirs of heaven before we know it, or are made sure of it. However, the assurance of faith is to be sought after. It may be attained; and it will be, by all who go forward.

“We must first be deeply humble and poor in spirit. We must have a fixed and abiding sense of our own weakness and unworthiness, corruption, sin, and misery. This it is to be a poor sinner.

“If I were with you, I would explain things more largely; but I am a novice; I am but a beginner; a babe in Christ. If you go amongst the Brethren, they are good guides; but, after all, we must be taught of God, and have experience in our own hearts. May the Spirit of truth lead us into all truth!

“I am your poor, unworthy brother,

“B. INGHAM.

“Rev. John Wesley, at Mr. Bray’s, Brazier, in Little Britain, London.”

This is a curious letter, and will help to cast light on some of the expressions which Wesley himself had used concerning his own experience. As yet, the Methodists had much to learn. Meanwhile, Ingham and Howel Harris came to London. Charles Wesley says, the latter, in his preaching, proved himself a son of thunder and of consolation. Cavilling, however, followed. Honest, plain, undesigning James Hutton “was all tergiversation, and turned into a subtle, close, ambiguous Loyola;” while Richard Bell, watch-case maker, seemed to think, that he and Molther and another were all the church that Christ had in England. A man of the name of Ridley rendered himself famous by saying, “You may as well go to hell for praying as for thieving;” and John Browne asserted, “If we read, the devil reads with us; if we pray, he prays with us; if we go to church or sacrament, he goes with us.”[355]

Ingham also, as well as Harris, “honestly withstood the deluded Brethren; contradicted their favourite errors; and constrained them to be still.” In the Fetter Lane society, he bore a noble testimony for the ordinances of God; but the answer was, “You are blind, and speak of the things you know not.” Wesley preached a series of sermons—1. On the delusion, that “weak faith is no faith.” 2. On the bold affirmation, that there is but one commandment in the New Testament, namely, “to believe.” 3. On the point, that Christians are subject to the ordinances of Christ. 4. On the fact, that a man may be justified without being entirely sanctified. These discourses were followed by five others, on reading the Scriptures, prayer, the Lord’s supper, and good works.

The result was increased commotion. Some said, “We believers are no more bound to obey, than the subjects of the king of England are bound to obey the laws of the king of France.” Bell declared that, for a man not born of God to read the Scriptures, pray, or come to the Lord’s table, was deadly poison. And Wesley, after a short debate, was prohibited preaching at Fetter Lane.

This brought matters to a crisis. Wesley had done all he could to correct the growing errors; but Molther was a greater favourite than Wesley; and the man, who had founded Fetter Lane society, was now, by Moravian votes, commanded to go about his business, and to leave the pulpit to his German superiors.

The thing had become an intolerable evil; and, at all hazards, the heresies must be checked. Substantially they may be reduced to two:—1. That there are no degrees of faith; or, in other words, that there is no justifying faith where there is any doubt or fear; or, in other words (for we feel it difficult to gripe such an abortive dogma), no man believes and is justified, unless, in the full sense of the expression, he is sanctified, and is possessed of a clean heart. 2. That to search the Scriptures, to pray, or to communicate, before we have faith, is to seek salvation by works; and such works must be laid aside before faith can be received.

This is not the place to confute such errors. Suffice it to say, that, before half-a-dozen years had passed, the London Moravians dropped the very doctrines, for opposing which Wesley was expelled from preaching in Fetter Lane. Their stillness was declared to mean, that “man cannot attain to salvation by his own wisdom, strength, righteousness, goodness, merits, or works. When he applies for it, he must cast away all dependence upon everything of his own, and, trusting only to the mercy of God, through the merits of Christ, he must thus quietly wait for God’s salvation.”[356] This is a doctrine to which Wesley raised no objection; but it was not the doctrine of Molther, Browne, Bell, Bray, and Bowers, in 1740. Then as to the doctrine concerning degrees in faith, it is right to add, that such a dogma was never taught by the general authorities of the Moravian church; but it was taught by Spangenberg, Molther, Stonehouse, and other Moravians in London,[357] the result being the disastrous confusion to which we are now adverting. Indeed, it is a notable fact, that, only two months after the Fetter Lane disruption, Wesley himself clears the Moravian church from the aspersion, that it held such heresies. They were the spawn of foolish fanatics, who regarded themselves Moravians, but were hardly worthy of the name. On September 29, 1740, Wesley having stated what the errors were, observes:—“In flat opposition to this, I assert: 1. That a man may have a degree of justifying faith, before he is wholly freed from all doubt and fear; and before he has, in the full, proper sense, a new, a clean heart. 2. That a man may use the ordinances of God, the Lord’s supper in particular, before he has such a faith as excludes all doubt and fear, and implies a new, a clean heart. 3. I further assert, that I learned this, not only from the English, but also from the Moravian church; and I hereby openly and earnestly call upon that church, and upon Count Zinzendorf in particular, to correct me, and explain themselves, if I have misunderstood or misrepresented them.” Wesley thus puts the blame on the right shoulders. It was not the Moravian church, but a few of its foolish ministers and members, at Fetter Lane, that circulated these heresies.

What was the result? If the Fetter Lane society did not exclude Wesley from their membership, they, on the 16th of July, expelled him from their pulpit; and hence, four days afterwards, he went with Mr. Seward to their lovefeast, and, at its conclusion, read a paper stating the errors into which they had fallen, and concluding thus:—“I believe these assertions to be flatly contrary to the word of God. I have warned you hereof again and again, and besought you to turn back to the ‘law and the testimony.’ I have borne with you long, hoping you would turn. But, as I find you more and more confirmed in the error of your ways, nothing now remains, but that I should give you up to God. You that are of the same judgment, follow me.”

Without saying more, he then silently withdrew, eighteen or nineteen of the society following him.

Two days afterwards, he received a letter from one of the Brethren in Germany, advising him and his brother to deliver up the “instruction of poor souls” to the Moravians; “for you,” adds the writer, “only instruct them in such errors, that they will be damned at last. St. Peter justly describes you, who ‘have eyes full of adultery, and cannot cease from sin;’ and take upon you to guide unstable souls, and lead them in the way of damnation.”

The day following, the seceding society, numbering about twenty-five men and fifty women, met for the first time, at the Foundery, instead of at Fetter Lane; and so the Methodist society was founded on July 23, 1740.

A fortnight later, Wesley, “a presbyter of the church of God in England,” wrote a long letter “to the church of God at Herrnhuth,” in which he states, that, though some of the Moravians had pronounced him “a child of the devil and a servant of corruption,” yet, he was now taking the liberty of speaking freely and plainly concerning things in the Moravian church which he deemed unscriptural. He enumerates the heresies which have been so often mentioned. He tells them, that a Moravian preacher, in his public expounding, said: “As many go to hell by praying as by thieving.” Another had said, “I knew a man who received a great gift while leaning over the back of a chair; but kneeling down to give God thanks, he lost it immediately through doing so.” He charges the Moravians with exalting themselves and despising others, and declares, that he scarce ever heard a Moravian owning his church or himself to be wrong in anything. They spoke of their church as if it were infallible, and some of them set it up as the judge of all the earth, of all persons and of all doctrines, and maintained that there were no true Christians out of it. Like the modern Mystics, they mixed much of man’s wisdom with the wisdom of God, and philosophised on almost every part of the plain religion of the Bible. They talked much against mixing nature with grace, and against mimicking the power of the Holy Ghost. They cautioned the brethren against animal joy, against natural love of one another, and against selfish love of God. “My brethren,” concludes Wesley, “whether ye will hear, or whether ye will forbear, I have now delivered my own soul. And this I have chosen to do in an artless manner, that if anything should come home to your hearts, the effect might evidently flow, not from the wisdom of man, but from the power of God.”

On September 1, Charles Wesley wrote to Whitefield in America, as follows:—

“The great work goes forward, maugre all the opposition of earth and hell. The most violent opposers of all are our own brethren of Fetter Lane, that were. We have gathered up between twenty and thirty from the wreck, and transplanted them to the Foundery. The remnant has taken root downward, and borne fruit upwards. A little one is become a thousand. They grow in grace, particularly in humility, and in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus. Innumerable have been the devices to scatter this little flock. The roaring lion is turned a still lion, and makes havoc of the church by means of our spiritual brethren. They are indefatigable in bringing us off from our ‘carnal ordinances,’ and speak with such wisdom from beneath, that, if it were possible, they would deceive the very elect. The Quakers, they say, are exactly right; and, indeed, the principles of the one naturally lead to the other. For instance, take our poor friend Morgan. One week he and his wife were at J. Bray’s, under the teaching of the still brethren. Soon after, he turned Quaker, and is now a celebrated preacher among them. All these things shall be for the furtherance of the gospel.”[358]

Whitefield’s reply to this is unknown; but on November 24 he wrote as follows to James Hutton:—

“I have lately conversed closely with Peter Bohler. Alas! we differ widely in many respects; therefore, to avoid disputations and jealousies on both sides, it is best to carry on the work of God apart. The divisions among the Brethren sometimes grieve, but do not surprise me. How can it be otherwise, when teachers do not think and speak the same things? God grant we may keep up a cordial, undissembled love towards each other, notwithstanding our different opinions. O, how I long for heaven! Surely, there will be no divisions, no strife there, except who shall sing with most affection to the Lamb that sitteth upon the throne. Dear James, there I hope to meet thee.”[359]

Here, for the present, we leave the London Moravians. We say, for the present, for unfortunately we shall have to recur to them.

The year 1740 was a year of troubles. A month previous to the Fetter Lane secession, a man of the name of Acourt bitterly complained, that he had been refused admission to the society-meeting, by order of Charles Wesley, because he differed from the Wesleys in opinion. “What opinion do you mean?” asked Wesley. He answered, “That of election. I hold, a certain number is elected from eternity; and these must and shall be saved; and the rest of mankind must and shall be damned; and many of your society hold the same.” Here we have another bone of contention.

Up to the time of Whitefield’s visit to America, he and the Wesleys had laboured in union and harmony, without entering into the discussion of particular opinions; but now, across the Atlantic, Whitefield became acquainted with a number of godly Calvinistic ministers, who recommended to him the writings of the puritan divines, which he read with great avidity, and, as a consequence, soon embraced their sentiments. Secrecy was no part of Whitefield’s mental or moral nature. With the utmost frankness, he wrote to Wesley, informing him of his new opinions.[360]

Wesley was the son of parents who held the doctrines of election and reprobation in abhorrence. While at college, he had thoroughly sifted the subject for himself, and, in letters to his mother, expressed his views in the strongest language. Whitefield, on the contrary, was no theologian. His heart was one of the largest that ever throbbed in human bosom; but his logical faculties were small. When he read the Calvinistic theory, he was not conversant with the arguments against it; and hence, with his characteristic impulsiveness, he adopted a creed, which far more powerful minds than his had not been able to defend. Southey remarks, with great truthfulness, that, “at the commencement of his career, Wesley was of a pugnacious spirit, the effect of his sincerity, his ardour, and his confidence.” No wonder then that these two devoted friends were soon at variance.

One of Whitefield’s letters, dated June 25, 1739, has been already given. The following is another, hitherto unpublished, written a week later:—

“GLOUCESTER, July 2, 1739.

“HONOURED SIR,—I confess my spirit has been of late sharpened on account of some of your proceedings; my heart has been quite broken within me. I have been grieved from my soul, knowing what a dilemma I am reduced to. How shall I tell the Dissenters I do not approve of their doctrines, without wronging my own soul? How shall I tell them I do, without contradicting my honoured friend, whom I desire to love as my own soul? Lord, for Thy infinite mercy’s sake, direct me so to act, as neither to injure myself nor my friend! Is it true, honoured sir, that brother Stock is excluded the society because he holds predestination? If so, is it right? Would Jesus Christ have done so? Is this to act with a catholic spirit? Is it true, honoured sir, that the house at Kingswood is intended hereafter for the brethren to dwell in, as at Herrnhuth? Is this answering the primitive design of that building? Did the Moravians live together till they were obliged by persecution? Does the scheme at Islington succeed? As for brother Cennick’s expounding, I know not what to say. Brother Watkin I think no way qualified for any such thing.

“Dear, honoured sir, if you have any regard for the peace of the church, keep in your sermon on predestination. But you have cast a lot. Oh! my heart, in the midst of my body, is like melted wax. The Lord direct us all! Honoured sir, indeed, I desire you all the success you can wish for. May you increase, though I decrease! I would willingly wash your feet. God is with us mightily. I have just now written to the bishop. Oh, wrestle, wrestle, honoured sir, in prayer, that not the least alienation of affection may be between you, honoured sir, and your obedient son and servant in Christ,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Mrs. Grevil’s, a grocer, in Wine Street, Bristol.”

This was within three months from the time when Wesley, at Whitefield’s request, began his career of out-door preaching at Bristol. Two months later, Whitefield was, a second time, on his way to America. Wesley wrote to him, opposing the doctrine of election, and also enforcing the doctrine, that, though Christians can never be freed from “those numberless weaknesses and follies, sometimes improperly termed sins of infirmity,” yet it is the privilege of all to be saved “entirely from sin in its proper sense, and from committing it.”[361]

In reply, Whitefield wrote as follows:—

“SAVANNAH, March 26, 1740.

“MY HONOURED FRIEND AND BROTHER,—For once hearken to a child, who is willing to wash your feet. I beseech you, by the mercies of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, if you would have my love confirmed towards you, write no more to me about misrepresentations wherein we differ. To the best of my knowledge, at present, no sin has dominion over me; yet I feel the strugglings of indwelling sin day by day. I can, therefore, by no means, come into your interpretation of the passage mentioned in your letter, and as explained in your preface to Mr. Halyburton. If possible, I am ten thousand times more convinced of the doctrine of election, and the final perseverance of those that are truly in Christ, than when I saw you last. You think otherwise. Why then should we dispute, when there is no probability of convincing? Will it not, in the end, destroy brotherly love, and insensibly take from us that cordial union and sweetness of soul, which I pray God may always subsist between us? How glad would the enemies of the Lord be to see us divided! How many would rejoice, should I join and make a party against you! How would the cause of our common Master suffer by our raising disputes about particular points of doctrines! Honoured sir, let us offer salvation freely to all by the blood of Jesus; and whatever light God has communicated to us, let us freely communicate to others. I have lately read the life of Luther, and think it in nowise to his honour, that the last part of his life was so much taken up in disputing with Zuinglius and others, who, in all probability, equally loved the Lord Jesus, notwithstanding they might differ from him in other points. Let this, dear sir, be a caution to us. I hope it will to me; for, provoke me to it as much as you please, I intend not to enter the lists of controversy with you on the points wherein we differ. Only, I pray to God, that the more you judge me, the more I may love you, and learn to desire no one’s approbation, but that of my Lord and Master Jesus Christ.”[362]

Two months after this, Whitefield wrote again:—

“CAPE LOPEN, May 24, 1740.

“HONOURED SIR,—I cannot entertain prejudices against your conduct and principles any longer, without informing you. The more I examine the writings of the most experienced men, and the experiences of the most established Christians, the more I differ from your notion about not committing sin, and your denying the doctrines of election and final perseverance of the saints. I dread coming to England, unless you are resolved to oppose these truths with less warmth than when I was there last. I dread your coming over to America, because the work of God is carried on here (and that in a most glorious manner), by doctrines quite opposite to those you hold. Here are thousands of God’s children, who will not be persuaded out of the privileges purchased for them by the blood of Jesus. There are many worthy experienced ministers, who would oppose your principles to the utmost. God direct me what to do! Sometimes, I think it best to stay here, where we all think and speak the same thing. The work goes on without divisions, and with more success, because all employed in it are of one mind. I write not this, honoured sir, from heat of spirit, but out of love. At present, I think you are entirely inconsistent with yourself, and, therefore, do not blame me, if I do not approve all you say. God Himself teaches my friends the doctrine of election. Sister H—— hath lately been convinced of it; and, if I mistake not, dear and honoured Mr. Wesley hereafter will be convinced also. Perhaps I may never see you again, till we meet in judgment; then, if not before, you will know, that sovereign, distinguishing, irresistible grace brought you to heaven. Then will you know, that God loved you with an everlasting love; and therefore with lovingkindness did He draw you. Honoured sir, farewell!”[363]

A fortnight later, on the 7th of June, Whitefield, writing to James Hutton, says:—

“For Christ’s sake, desire dear brother Wesley to avoid disputing with me. I think I had rather die, than see a division between us; and yet how can we walk together, if we oppose each other?”[364]

He wrote again to Wesley as follows:—

“SAVANNAH, June 25, 1740.

“MY HONOURED FRIEND AND BROTHER,—For Christ’s sake, if possible, never speak against election in your sermons. No one can say, that I ever mentioned it in public discourses, whatever my private sentiments may be. For Christ’s sake, let us not be divided amongst ourselves. Nothing will so much prevent a division as your being silent on this head. I am glad to hear, that you speak up for an attendance on the means of grace, and do not encourage persons who run, I am persuaded, before they are called. The work of God will suffer by such imprudence.”[365]

On the 16th of July, Howel Harris wrote to Wesley:—

“DEAR BROTHER JOHN,—Reports are circulated that you hold no faith without a full and constant assurance, and, that there is no state of salvation without being wholly set at liberty in the fullest sense of perfection. It is also said, that I am carried away by the same stream, and, that many of the little ones are afraid to come near me. Letters have likewise informed me, that, the night you left London, you turned a brother out of the society, and charged all to beware of him, purely because he held the doctrine of election. My dear brother, do not act in the stiff, uncharitable spirit which you condemn in others. If you exclude him from the society and from the fraternity of the Methodists, for such a cause, you must exclude brother Whitefield, brother Seward, and myself. I hope I shall contend with my last breath and blood, that it is owing to special, distinguishing, and irresistible grace, that those that are saved are saved. O that you would not touch on this subject till God enlighten you! My dear brother, being a public person, you grieve God’s people by your opposition to electing love; and many poor souls believe your doctrine simply because you hold it. All this arises from the prejudices of your education, your books, your companions, and the remains of your carnal reason. The more I write, the more I love you. I am sure you are one of God’s elect, and, that you act honestly according to the light you have.”[366]

On the 9th of August, Wesley addressed Whitefield as follows:—

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I thank you for yours of May the 24th. The case is quite plain. There are bigots both for predestination and against it. God is sending a message to those on either side. But neither will receive it, unless from one who is of their own opinion. Therefore, for a time, you are suffered to be of one opinion, and I of another. But when His time is come, God will do what man cannot, namely, make us both of one mind. Then persecution will flame out, and it will be seen whether we count our lives dear unto ourselves, so that we may finish our course with joy. I am, my dearest brother, ever yours,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[367]

In the same month, Whitefield wrote to Wesley:—

“CHARLESTOWN, August 25, 1740.

“MY DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,—Give me leave, with all humility, to exhort you not to be strenuous in opposing the doctrines of election and final perseverance; when, by your own confession, you have not the witness of the Spirit within yourself, and consequently are not a proper judge. I remember brother E—— told me one day, that he was convinced of the perseverance of saints. I told him, you were not. He replied, but ‘he will be convinced when he has got the Spirit himself.’ Perhaps the doctrines of election and of final perseverance have been abused; but, notwithstanding, they are children’s bread, and ought not to be withheld from them, supposing they are always mentioned with proper cautions against the abuse of them. I write not this to enter into disputation. I cannot bear the thought of opposing you; but how can I avoid it, if you go about, as your brother Charles once said, to drive John Calvin out of Bristol. Alas! I never read anything that Calvin wrote. My doctrines I had from Christ and His apostles. I was taught them of God; and as God was pleased to send me out first, and to enlighten me first, so, I think, He still continues to do it. I find, there is a disputing among you about election and perfection. I pray God to put a stop to it; for what good end will it answer? I wish I knew your principles fully. If you were to write oftener, and more frankly, it might have a better effect than silence and reserve.”[368]

A month later he wrote again as follows:—

“BOSTON, September 25, 1740.

“HONOURED SIR,—I am sorry to hear, by many letters, that you seem to own a sinless perfection in this life attainable. I think I cannot answer you better, than a venerable minister in these parts answered a Quaker: ‘Bring me a man that hath really arrived to this, and I will pay his expenses, let him come from where he will.’ I know not what you may think, but I do not expect to say indwelling sin is destroyed in me, till I bow my head and give up the ghost. There must be some Amalekites left in the Israelites’ land to keep his soul in action, to keep him humble, and to drive him continually to Jesus Christ for pardon. I know many abuse this doctrine, and perhaps wilfully indulge sin, or do not aspire after holiness, because no man is perfect in this life. But what of that? Must I assert, therefore, doctrines contrary to the gospel? God forbid! Besides, dear sir, what a fond conceit is it to cry up perfection, and yet cry down the doctrine of final perseverance. But this, and many other absurdities, you will run into, because you will not own election. And you will not own election, because you cannot own it without believing the doctrine of reprobation. What then is there in reprobation so horrid? I see no blasphemy in holding that doctrine, if rightly explained. If God might have passed by all, He may pass by some. Judge whether it is not a greater blasphemy to say, ‘Christ died for souls now in hell.’ Surely, dear sir, you do not believe there will be a general gaol delivery of damned souls hereafter. O that you would study the covenant of grace! But I have done. If you think so meanly of Bunyan and the puritan writers, I do not wonder that you think me wrong. I find your sermon has had its expected success. It has set the nation a disputing. You will have enough to do now to answer pamphlets. Two I have already seen. O that you would be more cautious in casting lots! O that you would not be too rash and precipitant! If you go on thus, honoured sir, how can I concur with you? It is impossible. I must speak what I know. About spring you may expect to see,

“Ever, ever yours in Christ, “GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[369]

Wesley’s sermon was already published. Let us look at it. It was preached at Bristol; and, in some respects, was the most important sermon that he ever issued. It led, as we shall shortly see, to the division which Whitefield so devoutly deprecates; and also to the organisation of Lady Huntingdon’s Connexion, and to the founding of the Calvinistic Methodists in Wales; and, finally, culminated in the fierce controversy of 1770, and the publication of Fletcher’s unequalled “Checks;” which so effectually silenced the Calvinian heresy, that its voice has scarce been heard from that time to this. Viewed in such a light, the difference between Wesley and Whitefield was really one of the greatest events in the history of Wesley and even of the religion of the age.

Wesley’s sermon, entitled “Free Grace,” was founded upon Romans viii. 32, and was printed as a 12mo pamphlet in twenty-four pages. Annexed to it was Charles Wesley’s remarkable “Hymn on Universal Redemption,” consisting of thirty-six stanzas of four lines each.[370] It is also a noteworthy fact, that, notwithstanding its importance, it was never included by Wesley in any collected edition of his sermons; and, in his own edition of his works, it is placed among his controversial writings. There is likewise a brief address to the reader, as follows:—

“Nothing but the strongest conviction, not only that what is here advanced is ‘the truth as it is in Jesus,’ but also that I am indispensably obliged to declare this truth to all the world, could have induced me openly to oppose the sentiments of those whom I esteem for their works’ sake; at whose feet may I be found in the day of the Lord Jesus!

“Should any believe it his duty to reply hereto, I have only one request to make,—let whatsoever you do be done in charity, in love, and in the spirit of meekness. Let your very disputing show, that you have ‘put on, as the elect of God, bowels of mercies, gentleness, longsuffering,’ that even according to this time it may be said, ‘See how these Christians love one another.’”

Having laid down the principle that God’s “free grace is free in all, and free for all,” Wesley proceeds, with great acuteness, to define the doctrine of predestination; namely, “Free grace in all is not free for all, but only for those whom God hath ordained to life. The greater part of mankind God hath ordained to death; and it is not free for them. Them God hateth; and therefore, before they were born, decreed they should die eternally. And this He absolutely decreed, because it was His sovereign will. Accordingly, they are born for this, to be destroyed body and soul in hell. And they grow up under the irrevocable curse of God, without any possibility of redemption; for what grace God gives, He gives only for this, to increase, not prevent, their damnation.”

Having effectually answered the objections of well meaning people, who, startled at a doctrine so spectral, say, “This is not the predestination which I hold, I hold only the election of grace,” he sums up as follows:—

“Though you use softer words than some, you mean the selfsame thing; and God’s decree concerning the election of grace, according to your account of it, amounts to neither more nor less than what others call, ‘God’s decree of reprobation.’ Call it therefore by whatever name you please, ‘election, preterition, predestination, or reprobation,’ it comes in the end to the same thing. The sense of all is plainly this,—by virtue of an eternal, unchangeable, irresistible decree of God, one part of mankind are infallibly saved, and the rest infallibly damned; it being impossible that any of the former should be damned, or that any of the latter should be saved.”

This presents the doctrine in all its naked, hideous deformity; but it is fair, and no Calvinian dexterity can make it otherwise.

Wesley then proceeds to state the objections to such a doctrine:—

1. It renders all preaching vain; for preaching is needless to them that are elected; for they, whether with it or without it, will infallibly be saved. And it is useless to them that are not elected; for they, whether with preaching or without, will infallibly be damned.

2. It directly tends to destroy that holiness which is the end of all the ordinances of God; for it wholly takes away those first motives to follow after holiness, so frequently proposed in Scripture, the hope of future reward and fear of punishment, the hope of heaven and fear of hell.

3. It directly tends to destroy several particular branches of holiness; for it naturally tends to inspire, or increase, a sharpness of temper, which is quite contrary to the meekness of Christ, and leads a man to treat with contempt, or coldness, those whom he supposes to be outcasts from God.

4. It tends to destroy the comfort of religion.

5. It directly tends to destroy our zeal for good works; for what avails it to relieve the wants of those who are just dropping into eternal fire!

6. It has a direct and manifest tendency to overthrow the whole Christian revelation; for it makes it unnecessary.

7. It makes the Christian revelation contradict itself; for it is grounded on such an interpretation of some texts as flatly contradicts all the other texts, and indeed the whole scope and tenour of Scripture.

8. It is full of blasphemy; for it represents our blessed Lord as a hypocrite and dissembler, in saying one thing and meaning another,—in pretending a love which He had not; it also represents the most holy God as more false, more cruel, and more unjust than the devil; for, in point of fact, it says that God has condemned millions of souls to everlasting fire for continuing in sin, which, for want of the grace He gives them not, they are unable to avoid.

Wesley sums up the whole thus:—

“This is the blasphemy clearly contained in the horrible decree of predestination. And here I fix my foot. On this I join issue with every asserter of it. You represent God as worse than the devil. But you say, you will prove it by Scripture. Hold! what will you prove by Scripture? that God is worse than the devil? It cannot be. Whatever that Scripture proves, it never can prove this; whatever its true meaning be, this cannot be its true meaning. Do you ask, ‘What is its true meaning then?’ If I say, ‘I know not,’ you have gained nothing; for there are many scriptures, the true sense whereof neither you nor I shall know till death is swallowed up in victory. But this I know, better it were to say it had no sense at all, than to say it had such a sense as this.”

In Whitefield’s letter, already given, and dated September 25, 1740, he states that already he had seen two pamphlets published against Wesley’s sermon. One of these probably was the following: “Free Grace Indeed! A Letter to the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, relating to his sermon against absolute election, published under the title of Free Grace. London: 1740. Price sixpence.”

In a subsequent advertisement, Wesley writes, “Whereas a pamphlet, entitled, ‘Free Grace Indeed!’ has been published against this sermon, this is to inform the publisher that I cannot answer his tract till he appears to be more in earnest; for I dare not speak of ‘the deep things of God’ in the spirit of a prizefighter or a stageplayer.”

With great respect for Wesley, we feel bound to say, that this is not worthy of him. The pamphlet referred to is before us, and is written with great ability, earnestness, and good temper. Wesley was not bound to answer it; but he had no right thus to brand it.

About the same time, another pamphlet was published, on the other side, entitled, “The Controversy concerning Free-will and Predestination; in a Letter to a Friend. Recommended to Mr. Whitefield and his followers.” 8vo, pages 36. As the controversy continued, it waxed warmer. Here Whitefield is spoken of as a man of “heated imagination, and full of himself”; “very hot, very self-sufficient, and impatient of contradiction”; “dogmatical and dictatorial” in his way of speaking, and wont to finish his oracular deliverances “with his assuming air, Dixi.”

The pamphlet concludes with a verse which contains the pith of the whole production:—

“Why is this wrangling world thus tossed and torn? Free-grace, Free-will, are both together born; If God’s free grace rule in, and over me, His will is mine, and so my will is free.”

In the month of October, Howel Harris took up the question, and wrote to Wesley, telling him that preaching electing love brings glory to God, and benefit and consolation to the soul. He adds: “Oh, when will the time come when we shall all agree? Till then, may the Lord enable us to bear with one another! We must, before we can be united, be truly simple, made really humble and open to conviction, willing to give up any expression that is not scriptural, dead to our names and characters, and sweetly inclined towards each other. I hope we have, in some measure, drank of the same Spirit, that we fight the same enemies, and are under the same crown and kingdom. We travel the same narrow road, and love the same Jesus. We are soon to be before the same throne, and employed in the same work of praise to all eternity. While, then, we are on the road, and meet with so many enemies, let us love one another. And if we really carry on the same cause, let us not weaken each other’s hands.”[371]

In another letter, addressed to John Cennick, and dated October 27, Harris writes in less temperate language:—

“DEAR BROTHER,—Brother Seward tells me of his dividing with brother Charles Wesley. He seems clear in his conviction, that God would have him do so. I have been long waiting to see if brother John and Charles should receive further light, or be silent and not oppose election and perseverance; but, finding no hope of this, I begin to be staggered how to act towards them. I plainly see that we preach two gospels. My dear brother, deal faithfully with brother John and Charles. If you like, you may read this letter to them. We are free in Wales from the hellish infection; but some are tainted when they come to Bristol.”[372]

In November, Whitefield wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“PHILADELPHIA, November 9, 1740.

“DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,—I received yours, dated March 11, this afternoon. Oh that we were of one mind! for I am persuaded you greatly err. You have set a mark you will never arrive at, till you come to glory. O dear sir, many of God’s children are grieved at your principles. Oh that God may give you a sight of His free, sovereign, and electing love! But no more of this. Why will you compel me to write thus? Why will you dispute? I am willing to go with you to prison, and to death; but I am not willing to oppose you. Dear, dear sir, study the covenant of grace, that you may be consistent with yourself. Oh build up, but do not lead into error, the souls once committed to the charge of your affectionate, unworthy brother and servant, in the loving Jesus,

“G. WHITEFIELD.”[373]

A fortnight later he wrote again to Wesley:—

“BOHEMIA, MARYLAND, November 24, 1740.

“DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,—Last night brother G—— brought me your two kind letters. Oh that there may be harmony, and very intimate union between us! Yet, it cannot be, since you hold universal redemption. The devil rages in London. He begins now to triumph indeed. The children of God are disunited among themselves. My dear brother, for Christ’s sake, avoid all disputation. Do not oblige me to preach against you; I had rather die. Be gentle towards the——. They will get great advantage over you, if they discover any irregular warmth in your temper. I cannot for my soul unite with the Moravian Brethren. Honoured sir, adieu!

“Yours eternally in Christ Jesus, “GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[374]

Just at this time, Wesley was expounding Romans ix. at Bristol, where Calvinism was becoming rampant in the society. Charles Wesley writes: “Anne Ayling and Anne Davis could not refrain from railing. John Cennick never offered to stop them. Alas, we have set the wolf to keep the sheep! God gave me great moderation toward him, who, for many months, has been undermining our doctrine and authority.”[375]

The difference was continued by Whitefield writing his “Letter to the Reverend Mr. John Wesley; in answer to his sermon, entitled ‘Free Grace’;” with the motto attached, “When Peter was come to Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed.”

The “Letter” is dated, “Bethesda, in Georgia, December 24, 1740.” After reiterating his reluctance to write against Wesley, he proceeds to state, that he now did so at the request of a great number of persons, who had been benefited by his ministry. He accuses Wesley of having propagated the doctrine of universal redemption, both in public and private, by preaching and printing, ever since before his last departure for America. He says that Wesley, while at Bristol, received a letter, charging him with not preaching the gospel, because he did not preach election. Upon this, he drew a lot; the answer was, “preach and print;” and, accordingly, he preached and printed against election. At Whitefield’s desire, he deferred publishing the sermon until after Whitefield started for America, when he sent it out. Whitefield asserts, that, if any one wished to prove the doctrine of election and of final perseverance, he could hardly wish for a text more fit for his purpose than that (Romans viii. 32) which Wesley had chosen to disprove it. He charges him with giving an “equivocal definition of the word grace,” and a “false definition of the word free;” and adds: “I frankly acknowledge, I believe the doctrine of reprobation, in this view, that God intends to give saving grace, through Jesus Christ, only to a certain number; and that the rest of mankind, after the fall of Adam, being justly left of God to continue in sin, will at last suffer that eternal death, which is its proper wages.” In reply to Wesley, he argues that, because preachers know not who are elect, and who reprobate, they are bound to preach promiscuously to all; that holiness is made a mark of election by all who preach it; that the seventeenth article of the English Church asserts, that the doctrine of “predestination and election in Christ is full of unspeakable comfort to godly persons;” that dooming millions to everlasting burnings is not an act of injustice, because God, for the sin of Adam, might justly have thus doomed all; that God’s absolute purpose of saving His chosen does not preclude the necessity of the gospel revelation, or the use of any of the means through which He has determined the decree shall take effect; that the doctrine of election does not make the Bible contradict itself, for though it asserts, that “the Lord is loving to every man, and His mercy is over all His works,” the reference is to His general, not His saving mercy; that it is unjust to charge the doctrine of reprobation with blasphemy; and that, on the other hand, the doctrine of universal redemption, as set forth by Wesley, “is really the highest reproach upon the dignity of the Son of God, and the merit of His blood;” and Whitefield challenges Wesley to make good the assertion, “that Christ died for them that perish,” without holding, as Peter Bohler had lately confessed in a letter, “that all the damned souls would hereafter be brought out of hell;” for “how can all be universally redeemed, if all are not finally saved?”

In conclusion, he writes:—

“Dear sir, for Jesus Christ’s sake, consider how you dishonour God by denying election. You plainly make man’s salvation depend not on God’s free grace, but on man’s free will. Dear, dear sir, give yourself to reading. Study the covenant of grace. Down with your carnal reasoning. Be a little child; and then, instead of pawning your salvation, as you have done in a late hymn-book, if the doctrine of universal redemption be not true; instead of talking of sinless perfection, as you have done in the preface to that hymn-book; and instead of making man’s salvation to depend on his own free will, as you have in this sermon, you will compose a hymn in praise of sovereign, distinguishing love; you will caution believers against striving to work a perfection out of their own hearts, and will print another sermon the reverse of this, and entitle it ‘Free Grace Indeed’—free, because not free to all; but free, because God may withhold or give it to whom and when He pleases.”[376]

About three weeks after the date of this letter, Whitefield set sail for England, bringing his manuscript with him. On his arrival in London, in March, 1741, he submitted it to Charles Wesley, who returned it to the author, endorsed with the words: “Put up again thy sword into its place.” The pamphlet, however, was published; and Whitefield gave Wesley notice, that he was resolved publicly to preach against him and his brother wherever he went. Wesley complained to Whitefield—1. That it was imprudent to publish his letter, because it was only putting weapons into the hands of those who hated them. 2. That, if he really was constrained to bear his testimony on the subject, he might have done it by issuing a treatise without ever calling Wesley’s name in question. 3. That what he had published was a mere burlesque upon an answer. 4. That he had said enough, however, of what was wholly foreign to the question, to make an open, and probably irreparable, breach between them. Wesley added:—

“You rank all the maintainers of universal redemption with Socinians. Alas, my brother! Do you not know even this, that Socinians allow no redemption at all? that Socinus himself speaks thus, ‘Tota redemptio nostra per Christum metaphora’? How easy were it for me to hit many other palpable blots, in what you call an answer to my sermon! And how, above measure, contemptible would you then appear to all impartial men, either of sense or learning! But, I assure you, my hand shall not be upon you. The Lord be judge between me and thee! The general tenour, both of my public and private exhortations, when I touch thereon at all, as even my enemies know, if they would testify, is ‘Spare the young man, even Absalom, for my sake!’”[377]

David and Jonathan were divided. An immediate schism followed. Wesley writes:—“In March, 1741, Mr. Whitefield, being returned to England, entirely separated from Mr. Wesley and his friends, because he did not hold the decrees. Here was the first breach, which warm men persuaded Mr. Whitefield to make merely for a difference of opinion. Those who believed universal redemption had no desire to separate; but those who held particular redemption would not hear of any accommodation, being determined to have no fellowship with men that were ‘in such dangerous errors.’ So there were now two sorts of Methodists: those for particular, and those for general, redemption.”[378]

Here, for the present, we leave the subject; and turn to other matters.

In 1740, as in 1739, the pamphlets published against Methodism were many and malignant. One was entitled: “The important Doctrines of Original Sin, Justification by Faith, and Regeneration, clearly stated and vindicated from the misrepresentations of the Methodists. By Thomas Whiston, A.B.” London: 1740. Pp. 70. Mr. Whiston is unknown to fame. Wesley never noticed him; and, though his production is now before us, an analysis of its contents would weary the reader without instructing him.

Another was, “The Quakers and Methodists compared. By the Rev. Zachary Grey, LL.D., Rector of Houghton Conquest, in Bedfordshire,”—the laborious author of more than thirty different publications, a man of great ingenuity and research, but an acrimonious polemic, who died at Ampthill, in 1766.[379]

It is a curious fact, that Whitefield was far more violently attacked than the Wesleys were. “Aquila Smyth, a layman of the Church of England,” accuses him of having published two letters against Archbishop Tillotson, “in the spirit of pride, envy, and malice;” and of having “detracted the most valuable works of other men, in order to aggrandize himself, and gain credit for his own weak, impudent, and wicked performances.” His “behaviour exposes him to the scorn of every reader;” and his “consummate impudence” is unequalled in the Christian world. There “is a juggle between him and Wesley to deceive their followers, and to prevent an inquiry into their corrupt and abominable doctrine;” and, finally, after calling him “a brainsick enthusiast,” Smyth declares, that Whitefield has taken up five thousand acres in America, under the pretence of educating and maintaining such negroes as may be sent to him; but really because he hopes to realise from the transaction a more plentiful fortune than he could have gained in England by five thousand years of preaching.

So much for the spleen of Aquila Smyth. In the Weekly Miscellany, edited by Mr. Hooker, there appeared, in several successive numbers, fictitious dialogues between Whitefield and a country clergyman, the object of which was to make Whitefield contemptible; and the whole were finished with a promise from the editor, that he would abridge, for the benefit of his subscribers, the history of the Anabaptists, and would show that there is a near resemblance between them and their descendants, the Methodists.

The Rev. Alexander Garden, the Bishop of London’s commissary at Charlestown, in America, published a series of six letters on justification by faith and works, in which he accused Whitefield of “self contradiction,” of “arrogant and wicked slander,” and of being “so full of zeal that he had no room for charity.” He contemptuously speaks of Whitefield’s “apparent shuffles,” “miserable distinctions,” “mob harangues,” and “false and poisoned insinuations.” Whitefield “deceives the people, and has no talent at proving anything”; he is “a hare-brained solifidian, and runs about a mouthing”; he has “kindled a fire of slander and defamation, which no devil in hell, nor jesuit on earth, will ever make an effort to extinguish, but will fagot and foment it with all their might”; “he dispenses to the populace in a vehicle of cant terms, without sense or meaning”; and “in a mountebank way, he fancies himself a young David, and that he has slain Goliath.”

Whitefield was again severely handled “by a presbyter of the Church of England,” in an able pamphlet of forty-four pages, entitled “A modest and serious Defence of the Author of the Whole Duty of Man, from the false charges and gross misrepresentations of Mr. Whitefield, and the Methodists his adherents”; but this was a castigation which Whitefield merited, for his ill judged and unneeded letter, published in the Daily Advertiser of July 3, 1740.

The most violent attack of all was in an octavo pamphlet of eighty-five pages, with the title, “The Expounder Expounded, by R——ph J——ps——n, of the Inner Temple, Esq.” London. Some parts of this disgraceful production are too filthy to be noticed; they must be passed in silence. In other parts, Whitefield, for publishing his journal, is charged with “saddling the world with one of the grossest absurdities and impositions, that folly or impudence could invent”; “his book is nothing but a continued account of his intimate union and correspondence with the devil”; and he himself may be seen “upon the hills and house-tops, like another Æolus, belching out his divine vapours to the multitude, to the great ease of himself, and emolument of his auditors.” “Charles Wesley lent him books at Oxford, which threw his understanding off the hinges, and rendered him enthusiastically crazy”; at college he “deemed a lousy pate humility, foul linen was heavenly contemplation, woollen gloves were grace, a patched gown was justification by faith, and dirty shoes meant a walk with God. In short, with him, religion consisted wholly in nastiness, and heaven was easiest attacked from a dunghill.” These are the mildest specimens we have been able to select from this cesspool of a perverted intellect and a polluted heart.

Another pamphlet, published in 1740, and consisting of eighty-four pages, was entitled “The Imposture of Methodism displayed; in a letter to the inhabitants of the parish of Dewsbury. Occasioned by the rise of a certain modern sect of enthusiasts, called Methodists. By William Bowman, M. A., vicar of Dewsbury and Aldbrough in Yorkshire, and chaplain to the Right Honourable Charles, Earl of Hoptoun.” As yet, neither the Wesleys nor Whitefield had been in Yorkshire; but Ingham and William Delamotte were there, and had been the means of converting a large number of the almost heathenised inhabitants of the west riding. The reverend vicar tells his parishioners, that “an impious spirit of enthusiasm and superstition has crept in among them, and threatens a total ruin of all religion and virtue.” He himself has been “an eye-witness of this monstrous madness, and religious frenzy, which, like a rapid torrent, bears down everything beautiful before it, and introduces nothing but a confused and ridiculous medley of nonsense and inconsistency.” It was matter of thankfulness, “that the contagion, at present, was pretty much confined to the dregs and refuse of the people,—the weak, unsteady mob, always fond of innovation, and never pleased but with variety;” but, then, the mob was so numerous in the west of Yorkshire, that the danger was greater than was apprehended. The author declines to determine whether “these modern visionaries, like the Quakers, are a sect hatched and fashioned in a seminary of Jesuits; or whether, like the German Anabaptists, they are a set of crazy, distempered fanatics;” but certain it is, that their “enthusiasm is patched and made up of a thousand incoherencies and absurdities, picked and collected from the vilest errors and most pestilent follies, of every heresy upon earth.” “Their teachers inculcate, that they are Divinely and supernaturally inspired by the Holy Ghost, to declare the will of God to mankind; and, yet, they are cheats and impostors, and their pretended sanctity nothing but a trick and a delusion.” They had been allowed to use the pulpits of the Church, “till, by their flights and buffooneries, they had made the church more like a bear-garden than the house of prayer; and the rostrum nothing else but the trumpet of sedition, heresy, blasphemy, and everything destructive to religion and good manners.” It was high time for the clergy to put an end to their “pulpits being let out, as a stage, for mountebanks and jack-puddings to play their tricks upon, and from thence to propagate their impostures and delusions.” “These mad devotionalists held, that it is lawful and expedient for mere laymen, for women, and the meanest and most ignorant mechanics, to minister in the church of Christ, to preach, and expound the word of God, and to offer up the prayers of the congregation in the public assemblies.” They also taught, that “the new birth consists in an absolute and entire freedom from all kind of sin whatsoever;” and likewise “denounced eternal death and damnation on all who cannot conform to their ridiculous ideas.” “Whilst adopting to themselves the reputation of being the chief favourites of heaven, the confidants and imparters of its secrets, and the dispensers of its frowns and favours, they were really furious disciples of antichrist, reverend scavengers of scandal, and filthy pests and plagues of mankind.” Such are specimens of the meek language used by the reverend vicar of Dewsbury.

We have already noticed one production of the fiery and furious Joseph Trapp, D.D., published in 1739. The publication of that produced others, in 1740. One was entitled, “The true Spirit of the Methodists, and their Allies, fully laid open; in an answer to six of the seven pamphlets, lately published against Dr. Trapp’s sermons upon being ‘Righteous over much’”: pp. 98. The anonymous author says, that one of these six pamphlets is full of “false quotations, lies, and slanders,” and concludes with “an ungodly jumble of railing and praying.” The Methodists are branded as “crack-brained enthusiasts and profane hypocrites.” “The criterions of modern saintship are the most unchristian malice, lying, slander, railing, and cursing.” Whitefield is pronounced “impious and ignorant.” The “false doctrines and blasphemies of the Methodists, their field assemblies and conventicles in houses, are contrary to the laws of God and man, of church and state, and are tending to the ruin of both.”

Another pamphlet, of 127 pages, was by Dr. Trapp himself, and entitled, “A Reply to Mr. Law’s earnest and serious Answer (as it is called) to Dr. Trapp’s discourse on being righteous over much.” The reverend doctor, as inflammable as ever, pronounces the Methodists “a new sect of enthusiasts, or hypocrites, or both; whose doctrines and practices tend to the destruction of souls, are a scandal to Christianity, and expose it to the scoffs of libertines, infidels, and atheists.” This is not an unfair specimen of the whole 127 pages. William Law, however, was far too stout an antagonist to be silenced by Dr. Trapp. His “Serious Answer” to Trapp’s sermons, and his “Animadversions” on Trapp’s reply, whilst written in the highest style of Christian courtesy, are witheringly severe. They may be found in Wesley’s collected publications, edit. 1772, vol. vi.

Another doughty anti-Methodistic champion was the celebrated Dr. Daniel Waterland, chaplain in ordinary to his majesty, canon of Windsor, archdeacon of Middlesex, and vicar of Twickenham; one of the greatest controversialists of the age, who died at the end of the year of which we are writing, and whose collected works have since been published in eleven octavo volumes.

A few months before his death, Waterland preached two sermons, first at Twickenham, and next at Windsor, on regeneration, which, without mentioning the Methodists, were undeniably meant to serve as an antidote to the doctrines they preached. These he published in the form of an octavo pamphlet of fifty-six pages, accompanied by a mass of notes in Latin, Greek, and English, from all sorts of authors. The title of the pamphlet is, “Regeneration Stated and Explained, according to Scripture and Antiquity, in a Discourse on Titus iii. 4, 5, 6;” and its subject may be inferred from the following definition:—“The new birth, in the general, means a spiritual change, wrought upon any person by the Holy Spirit, in the use of baptism; whereby he is translated from his natural state in Adam, to a spiritual state in Christ.” Written from such a standpoint, the pamphlet of course was a tacit condemnation of the doctrines of the Methodists. It is immensely learned, but far from luminous; full of talent, but likewise full of error; exceedingly elaborate, but, to an equal extent, bewildering.

We shall mention only one other attack on Methodism and the Methodists made at this period. This was a pamphlet of fifty-five pages, with the title, “The Trial of Mr. Whitefield’s Spirit, in some remarks upon his fourth Journal.” The author makes himself merry with the discovery, that this new sect of enthusiasts, by taking to themselves the name of Methodist, have unintentionally stigmatised themselves with a designation which is branded in Scripture as evil. “The word Μεθοδεια, or Methodism, is only used twice throughout the New Testament (Ephesians iv. 14, and vi. 11), and in both places denotes that cunning craftiness whereby evil men, or evil spirits, lie in wait to deceive.” It is alleged that Wesley, Whitefield, and their followers, “have taken an appellation, perhaps through a judicial inadvertence, which the Spirit of God has peculiarly appropriated to the adversary of mankind, and to those who are leagued with him in enmity to the interests of righteousness and true holiness.” This was an ingenious hit; the writer, however, forgetting or misstating the fact, that the name of Methodists was not self-assumed, but imposed by others. “Μεθοδευσαι δε εστι το απατησαι—to be a Methodist, says St. Chrysostom, is to be beguiled.” And, from this, the author wishes the inference to be deduced, that, because the new sect of enthusiasts were called Methodists, they were all beguiled, and, of course, Wesley and Whitefield were the great beguilers. The remainder of the pamphlet is a critique on Whitefield’s Journals, which, it must be admitted, were unguardedly expressed, and which, before being printed, ought to have been revised by a kindred spirit, possessed of a soberer judgment than Whitefield had.

The Methodist persecutions of 1740 were chiefly of a literary kind. It is true that Charles Wesley met with a rough reception at Bengeworth, where Henry Seward called him “a scoundrel and a rascal”; directed the mob to “take him away and duck him”; and actually seized him by the nose and wrung it. This was bad enough, but the treatment of John Cennick and his friends was even worse. While he was preaching at Upton, in Gloucestershire, the mob assembled with a horn, a drum, and a number of brass pans, and made a most horrid hubbub; the brass pans being also used in beating the people’s heads. A man likewise put a cat into a cage, and brought a pack of hounds to make them bark at it. Another fellow and his wife, who kept an alehouse at Hannam, rode through the congregation, thrashing the people with their whips, and trampling them beneath their horses’ hoofs. Little children collected dust, which their upgrown patrons cast upon Cennick, who was also struck violently on the nose, and became a target at which to hurl dead dogs and stones.[380] But even violent and contemptuous treatment like this was not near so painful as the scurrilous attacks encountered through the press. In this way, the persecution of the Methodists was something more than a localised outburst of spleen and hate; for, in all sorts of squibs, they were gibbeted, and exposed to ridicule, throughout the kingdom.

Wesley’s trials were not trifles; but, in the midst of all, he bravely pursued the path of duty; and, after the final separation from his foolish, fanatical friends at Fetter Lane, his labours in London were attended with considerable success. On August 11, while forty or fifty were praying and giving thanks at the Foundery, two persons began to cry to God with a loud and bitter cry, and soon found peace. Five days after, a woman, at Long Lane, fell down and continued in violent agonies for an hour. In September, a great number of men forced their way into the Foundery, and began to speak big, swelling words; but, “immediately after, the hammer of the word brake the rocks in pieces.” A smuggler rushed in and cursed vehemently; but, when Wesley finished preaching, the man declared, before the congregation, that, henceforth, he would abandon smuggling and give God his heart.

Wesley’s efforts to do good were various. In London, he induced his friends to contribute the clothing they could spare, and distributed it among the poor of the Foundery society. In Bristol, besides visiting numbers of people “ill of the spotted fever,” he took into his Broadmead meeting-house twelve of the poorest people he could find, who were out of work; and, to save them at once from want and from idleness, employed them for four months in carding and spinning cotton.

Wesley concluded this eventful year at Bristol, by holding a watchnight meeting, proposed by James Rogers, a Kingswood collier, noted among his neighbours for his playing on the violin, but who, being awakened under the ministry of Charles Wesley, went home, burnt his fiddle, and told his wife that he meant to be a Methodist. To his death, James was faithful, and, besides many other important services, was the first Methodist preacher that preached at Stroud in Gloucestershire.[381]

This was the first watchnight meeting among the Methodists. The people met at half-past eight; the house was filled from end to end; and “we concluded the year,” says Wesley, “wrestling with God in prayer, and praising Him for the wonderful work which He had already wrought upon the earth.”

The meeting soon became a favourite one, and was held monthly. Wesley writes: “Some advised me to put an end to this; but, upon weighing the thing thoroughly, and comparing it with the practice of the ancient Christians, I could see no cause to forbid it. Rather, I believed it might be made of more general use.”[382] ‘The church, in ancient times, was accustomed to spend whole nights in prayer, which nights were termed vigiliæ, or vigils; and, sanctioned by such authority, Wesley appointed monthly watchnights, on the Fridays nearest the full moon, desiring that they, and they only, should attend, who could do it without prejudice to their business or families.

Little more remains to be said concerning 1740. During the entire year, Wesley preached in only three churches, namely at Newbury, and at Lanhithel, and Lantarnum, in Wales. His favourite text was Ephesians ii. 8, showing that his mind and heart were still full of the glorious truth, salvation by grace through faith in Christ.

One of his publications has been already noticed. Another was a third volume of hymns, pp. 209, by no means inferior to its predecessors in poetic excellence, or Christian character. The book is also possessed of considerable historic interest, containing, as it does, a long hymn of twenty-two verses, descriptive of Charles Wesley’s history up to this period; and likewise several hymns addressed to Whitefield; and one “for the Kingswood colliers.” The volume consists of ninety-six hymns and poems, only four of which are selected from other authors. The preface is remarkable, giving a description of the man possessed of a clean heart. He is freed from pride, self will, evil thoughts, wandering thoughts, doubts, fears, etc. Wesley, a quarter of a century afterwards, declared that this preface contains the strongest account that he ever gave of Christian perfection; and admitted, that some of the statements needed correction; especially, that the perfect Christian is so “freed from self will as not to desire ease in pain;” that, “in prayer, he is so delivered from wanderings, that he has no thought of anything past, or absent, or to come, but of God alone,” etc. Wesley never taught anything respecting Christian perfection, but what was, either directly or indirectly, contained in this preface; but some of its strong assertions he wished to modify.[383]

Another publication, issued in 1740, was entitled, “Serious Considerations concerning the Doctrines of Election and Reprobation. Extracted from a late author.” 12mo, twelve pages. It is a condensed, well argued tract on what had become a bone of contention between Wesley and his friend Whitefield. The address to the reader is beautiful: “Let us bear with one another, remembering it is the prerogative of the great God to pierce through all His own infinite schemes with an unerring eye, to surround them with an all-comprehensive view, to grasp them all in one single survey, and to spread a reconciling light over all their immense varieties. Man must yet grapple with difficulties in this dusky twilight; but God, in His time, will irradiate the earth more plentifully with His light and truth.”

Another of Wesley’s publications was a 12mo tract of nineteen pages, with the title, “The Nature and Design of Christianity, extracted from a late author” (Mr. Law); and another was Wesley’s second Journal, extending from February 1 to August 12, 1738. 12mo, pp. 90.

The year 1740, in Wesley’s history, was not marked with great religious success; but it was one of the most eventful years in his chequered life. There was a full and final separation from the Moravians; there was the separate organisation of the Methodist society at Moorfields; and there was the controversy with Whitefield. All these matters will again demand attention.

1741.

[Sidenote: 1741 Age 38]

With the exception of a week spent in the midland counties, about a month at Oxford, and three weeks in Wales, Wesley divided the year 1741, in almost equal proportions, between London and Bristol.

Whitefield arrived in England, from America, in the month of March; and, finding his congregations at Moorfields and Kennington Common dwindled down from twenty thousand to two or three hundred, he started off to Bristol, where he remained till the end of May; when he came back to London, and, on July 25, sailed thence to Scotland, writing six-and-twenty pastoralizing letters on the way, and arriving at Leith on July 30. The next three months were spent with the Erskines and others, the leaders of the Seceders, who, in the year preceding, had been solemnly expelled by the General Assembly, and had had their relation to the national church formally dissolved. Whitefield’s career of out-door preaching, and his success in Scotland, were marvellous. All the time, however, he was burdened with an enormous debt, incurred on account of his orphan house in Georgia, and was sometimes threatened with arrest. On leaving Scotland, he proceeded direct to Wales, where, on the 11th of November, he married a widow of the name of James, and set up housekeeping with borrowed furniture, though, according to an announcement in the Gentleman’s Magazine,[384] his wife had a fortune of £10,000. The rest of the year he spent chiefly in Bristol and the west of England.[385]

Charles Wesley, of course, alternated with his brother, though he preached far more at Bristol than in London. Ever and anon he composed one of his grand funereal hymns, and not unfrequently met with amusing adventures. In a Kingswood prayer-meeting, while he and others were praying for an increase of spiritual children, a wild collier brought four of his black-faced little ones, and threw the youngest on the table, saying, “You have got the mother, take the bairns as well.” In another instance, a woman came to him about her husband, who had been to hear the predestinarian gospel, returned home elect, and, in proof of it, beat his wife.

For some months, in the year 1741, Charles Wesley was in danger of subsiding into Moravian stillness; and his brother wrote to him, “The Philistines are upon thee, Samson, but the Lord is not departed from thee.” Gambold also, and Westley Hall, were inoculated with the same pernicious poison. Charles went off to Bristol, and on April 21 Wesley addressed to him the following:—

“I rejoice in your speaking your mind freely. O let our love be without dissimulation!

“As yet, I dare in nowise join with the Moravians: 1. Because their whole scheme is mystical, not scriptural. 2. Because there is darkness and closeness in their whole behaviour, and guile in almost all their words. 3. Because they utterly deny and despise self denial and the daily cross. 4. Because they, upon principle, conform to the world, in wearing gold or costly apparel. 5. Because they extend Christian liberty, in this and many other respects, beyond what is warranted in holy writ. 6. Because they are by no means zealous of good works; or, at least, only to their own people. And, lastly, because they make inward religion swallow up outward in general. For these reasons chiefly, I will rather stand quite alone, than join with them: I mean till I have full assurance, that they will spread none of their errors among the little flock committed to my charge.

“O my brother, my soul is grieved for you; the poison is in you: fair words have stolen away your heart. ‘No English man or woman is like the Moravians!’ So the matter is come to a fair issue. Five of us did still stand together a few months since; but two are gone to the right hand, Hutchins and Cennick; and two more to the left, Mr. Hall and you. Lord, if it be Thy gospel which I preach, arise and maintain Thine own cause! Adieu!”[386]

In the month of May, a reunion of Wesley’s London society with the Moravians at Fetter Lane was solemnly discussed; and all the bands met at the Foundery, on a Wednesday afternoon, to ask God to give them guidance. “It was clear to all,” writes Wesley, “even those who were before the most desirous of reunion, that the time was not come: (1) because the brethren of Fetter Lane had not given up their most essentially erroneous doctrines; and, (2) because many of us had found so much guile in their words, that we could scarce tell what they really held, and what not.”

Wesley entertained no bitterness towards the Moravians. He readily acknowledges, that they had a sincere desire to serve God; that many of them had tasted of His love that they abstained from outward sin; and that their discipline, in most respects, was excellent: but, after reading all their English publications, and “waiving their odd and affected phrases; their weak, mean, silly, childish expressions; their crude, confused, and undigested notions; and their whims, unsupported either by Scripture or sound reason,”—he found three grand, unretracted errors running through almost all their books, namely “universal salvation, antinomianism, and a kind of new, reformed quietism.” No wonder that the thought of reunion was abandoned.

A month after the above meeting, at the Foundery, Wesley made a tour among the Moravians, in the midland counties. Here Ingham had preached with great success; and here Mr. Simpson, one of the Oxford Methodists, had settled as a sort of Moravian minister. During the journey, Wesley made an experiment which he had often been urged to make, namely that of speaking to no one on sacred things, unless his heart was free to it. The result was, that, for eighty miles together, he had no need to speak at all; and he tells us that, instead of having crosses to take up and bear, he commonly fell fast asleep; and all behaved to him, as to a civil, good-natured gentleman. On reaching Ockbrook, where Simpson lived, he found that though, a few months before, there had been a great awakening all round about, three-fourths of the converts were now backsliders. Simpson had drawn the people from the Church, and had advised them to abandon devotion. He said, there was no Church of England left; and that there was no scriptural command for family or private prayer. The sum of his teaching was: “If you wish to believe, be still; and leave off what you call the means of grace, such as prayer and running to church and sacrament.” Mr. Graves, the clergyman of the parish, having offered the use of his church to Wesley, the latter preached two sermons, one on “the true gospel stillness”, and the other from his favourite text—“By grace are ye saved, through faith.”

From Ockbrook, Wesley went to Nottingham, where he found further evidences of backsliding. The room, which used to be crowded, was now half empty; and the few who did attend the services, instead of praying when they entered, sat down without any religious formality whatever, and began talking to their neighbours. When Wesley engaged in prayer among them, none knelt, and “those who stood chose the most easy and indolent posture which they conveniently could.” One of the hymn-books, published by the Wesleys, had been sent from London to be used in the public congregations; but both that and the Bible were now banished; and, in the place of them, lay the Moravian hymns and Zinzendorf’s sixteen sermons. Wesley preached twice in this Moravian meeting; and once in the market place, to an immense multitude, all of whom, with two or three exceptions, behaved with great decorum.

After spending a week at Markfield, Ockbrook, Nottingham, Melbourn, and Hemmington, and also probably becoming acquainted with the Countess of Huntingdon, who lived in this locality, Wesley returned to town, on the 16th of June, and, a fortnight after, went to Oxford, where he met his old friend Mr. Gambold, who honestly told him, he was ashamed of his company, and must be excused going to the Moravian meeting with him.

At the beginning of September, Zinzendorf wished to have an interview, and, at his request, Wesley went to Gray’s-inn Walk, a public promenade, to meet him. Zinzendorf charged him with having changed his religion; with having quarreled with the Brethren; and with having refused to be at peace with them, even after they had asked his forgiveness. In reference to Wesley’s doctrine of Christian perfection, the count became furious. “This,” said he, “is the error of errors. I pursue it through the world with fire and sword. I trample upon it. I devote it to utter destruction. Christ is our sole perfection. Whoever follows inherent perfection, denies Christ. All Christian perfection is faith in the blood of Christ; and is wholly imputed, not inherent.” Wesley asked, if they were not striving about words; and, by a series of questions, got the obfuscated German to admit, “that, a believer is altogether holy in heart and life,—that he loves God with all his heart, and serves Him with all his powers.” Wesley continued: “I desire nothing more. I mean nothing else by perfection, or Christian holiness.” Zinzendorf rejoined: “But this is not the believer’s holiness. He is not more holy if he loves more, or less holy, if he loves less. In the moment he is justified, he is sanctified wholly; and, from that time, he is neither more nor less holy, even unto death. Our whole justification, and sanctification, are in the same instant. From the moment any one is justified, his heart is as pure as it ever will be.” Wesley asked again: “Perhaps I do not comprehend your meaning. Do we not, while we deny ourselves, die more and more to the world and live to God?” Zinzendorf replied: “We reject all self denial. We trample upon it. We do, as believers, whatsoever we will, and nothing more. We laugh at all mortification. No purification precedes perfect love.”[387] And thus the conference ended.

“The count,” said Mr. Stonehouse after reading the conversation, “is a clever fellow; but the genius of Methodism is too strong for him.”[388]

Zinzendorf accused Wesley of refusing to live in peace, even after the Brethren had humbled themselves and begged his pardon. Wesley says there is a mistake in this. Fifty or more Moravians spoke bitterly against him; one or two asked his pardon, but did it in the most careless manner possible. The rest, if ashamed of their behaviour at all, managed to keep their shame a profound secret from him.[389]

As to the count’s theory, that a man is wholly sanctified the moment he is justified—a theory held by the Rev. Dr. Bunting, at all events, at the commencement of his ministerial career[390]—we say nothing; but there can be no question, that his sentiments respecting self denial, and the right of believers to do or not to do what they like, are, in a high degree, delusive and dangerous. We have here the very essence of the antinomian heresy, and are thus prepared for an entry in Charles Wesley’s journal:—

1741. September 6.—“I was astonished by a letter from my brother, relating his conference with the apostle of the Moravians. Who would believe it of Count Zinzendorf, that he should utterly deny all Christian holiness? I never could, but for a saying of his, which I heard with my own ears. Speaking of St. James’s epistle, he said: ‘If it was thrown out of the canon, I would not restore it.’”

The heresy of such a man was of vast importance; for, in this same year and month, September, 1741, Zinzendorf told Doddridge, that he had “sent out, from his own family of Moravians, three hundred preachers, who were gone into most parts of the world; and that he himself was now become the guardian of the Protestant churches in the south of France, sixty of which were assembling privately for worship.”[391]

As already stated, Charles Wesley was in danger of falling into the Moravian heresy. The following is an extract from a letter addressed to Wesley by the Countess of Huntingdon, and dated October 24, 1741.

“Since you left us, the still ones are not without their attacks. I fear much more for your brother than for myself, as the conquest of the one would be nothing in respect to the other. They have, by one of their agents, reviled me very much, but I have taken no sort of notice of it. I comfort myself, that you will approve a step with respect to them, which your brother and I have taken: no less than his declaring open war against them. He seemed under some difficulty about it at first, till he had free liberty given him to use my name, as the instrument, in God’s hand, that had delivered him from them. I rejoiced much at it, hoping it might be the means of working my deliverance from them. I have desired him to enclose to them yours on Christian perfection. The doctrine therein contained, I hope to live and die by; it is absolutely the most complete thing I know. Your brother is also to give his reasons for separating. I have great faith God will not let him fall; for many would fall with him. His natural parts, his judgment, and the improvement he has made, are so very far above the very highest of them, that I should imagine nothing but frenzy had seized upon him.

“We set out a week ago for Donnington, and you shall hear from me as soon as I arrive, and have heard how your little flock goes on in that neighbourhood.”[392]

Methodists will learn, from this interesting letter, that they owe a debt of gratitude to the noble and “elect lady” of the midland counties.

We turn to Whitefield. On his arrival from America, in the month of March, he found his position far from pleasant.

First of all, there was the melancholy death of his friend, William Seward—really Methodism’s first martyr—a man of considerable property, but of meagre education and inferior talent; Whitefield’s travelling companion in his second voyage to Georgia, and who, at the time of his being murdered, in Wales, was itinerating with Howel Harris in Glamorganshire. At Newport, the mob had torn Harris’s coat to tatters, stolen his wig, and pelted him and his companion with apples, stones, and dirt. At Caerleon, rotten eggs were thrown in all directions, Seward’s eye was struck, and, a few days after, he was entirely blind. At Monmouth, their treatment was of the same kind as at Newport and Caerleon; but Seward bravely cried, “Better endure this than hell.” At length, on reaching Hay, a villain hit him on the head; the blow was fatal; and William Seward went to inherit a martyr’s crown, at the early age of thirty-eight, on October 22, 1741.

Besides the death of Methodism’s protomartyr, there were other troubles which Whitefield had to carry. He had an orphan family of nearly a hundred persons to maintain; was above a thousand pounds in debt for them; and was threatened with arrest on account of a bill for £350, drawn, in favour of the orphan house by his dead friend, William Seward, but which had not been met by him. James Hutton, who had been his publisher, refused to have any further transactions with him. “Many of my spiritual children,” he writes, “who, when I last left England, would have plucked out their own eyes to have given me, are so prejudiced by the dear Messrs. Wesleys’ dressing up of election in such horrible colours, that they will neither hear, see, nor give me the least assistance. Yea, some of them send threatening letters, that God will speedily destroy me. As for the people of the world, they are so embittered by my injudicious and too severe expressions against Archbishop Tillotson, the author of the old Duty of Man, that they fly from me as from a viper; and, what is worst of all, I am now constrained, on account of our differing in principles, publicly to separate from my dear, dear old friends, Messrs. John and Charles Wesley.”[393]

During his passage to England, Whitefield wrote to Charles Wesley as follows: “My dear, dear brother, why did you throw out the bone of contention? Why did you print that sermon against predestination? Why did you, in particular, affix your hymn and join in putting out your late hymn-book? How can you say you will not dispute with me about election, and yet print such hymns?” And then he proceeds to state, that he had written an answer to Wesley’s sermon on free grace, and was about to have it printed in Charlestown, Boston, and London.[394]

About six weeks before his arrival in England, some one obtained a copy of the letter he had sent to Wesley, under the date of September 25, 1740,[395] (an extract of which is given in the previous chapter, page 316,) and had printed it without either his or Wesley’s consent, and circulated it gratuitously at the doors of the Foundery. Wesley heard of this; and, having procured a copy, tore it in pieces before the assembled congregation, declaring that he believed Whitefield would have done the same. The congregation imitated their minister’s example, and, in two minutes, all the copies were literally torn to tatters.

Three weeks after this, Wesley had to hurry off to Kingswood to allay the turmoils there. He met the bands, but it was a cold uncomfortable meeting. Cennick and fifteen or twenty of his friends had an interview with Wesley, who accused them of speaking against him behind his back. They replied that they had said nothing behind his back which they would not say before his face; namely, that he preached up the faithfulness of man, and not the faithfulness of God.

After a lovefeast, held in Bristol on Sunday evening, February 22, Wesley related to the Bristol Methodists, that many of their brethren at Kingswood had formed themselves into a separate society, on account of Cennick preaching doctrines different to those preached by himself and his brother. Cennick, who was present, affirmed, that Wesley’s doctrine was false. Wesley charged him with supplanting him in his own house, stealing the hearts of the people, and, by private accusations, dividing very friends. Cennick replied, “I have never privately accused you.” Wesley, who, by some means, was possessed of a letter which Cennick had recently addressed to Whitefield, answered: “My brethren, judge;” and then began to read as follows:—

“January 17, 1741.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—That you might come quickly, I have written a second time. I sit solitary, like Eli, waiting what will become of the ark. My trouble increases daily. How glorious did the gospel seem once to flourish in Kingswood! I spake of the everlasting love of Christ with sweet power; but now brother Charles is suffered to open his mouth against this truth, while the frighted sheep gaze and fly, as if no shepherd was among them. O, pray for the distressed lambs yet left in this place, that they faint not! Brother Charles pleases the world with universal redemption, and brother John follows him in everything. No atheist can preach more against predestination than they; and all who believe election are counted enemies to God, and called so. Fly, dear brother. I am as alone; I am in the midst of the plague. If God give thee leave, make haste.”

Cennick acknowledged the letter was his, that it had been sent to Whitefield, and that he retracted nothing in it. The meeting got excited, and Wesley adjourned the settlement of the business to Kingswood on Saturday next ensuing.

Here he heard all that any one wished to say, and then read the following paper:—

“BY many witnesses, it appears that several members of the band society in Kingswood have made it their common practice to scoff at the preaching of Mr. John and Charles Wesley; that they have censured and spoken evil of them behind their backs, at the very time they professed love and esteem to their faces; that they have studiously endeavoured to prejudice other members of that society against them; and, in order thereto, have belied and slandered them in divers instances.

“Therefore, not for their opinions, nor for any of them (whether they be right or wrong), but for the causes above mentioned, viz. for their scoffing at the word and ministers of God, for their talebearing, backbiting, and evil speaking, for their dissembling, lying, and slandering:

“I, John Wesley, by the consent and approbation of the band society in Kingswood, do declare the persons above mentioned to be no longer members thereof. Neither will they be so accounted, until they shall openly confess their fault, and thereby do what in them lies, to remove the scandal they have given.”

This is a remarkable document It was hardly two years since Whitefield and Wesley began to preach at Kingswood, and yet here we have a large number of their converts charged with backbiting, lying, slandering, and other crimes. “How is the gold become dim!” Were the former days better than these? We doubt it.

Here we also have the first Methodist expulsion; not for opinions, but for sins; not by the sole authority and act of John Wesley, but “by the consent and approbation” of the society, whose refractory members were to be put away. Such was Methodism, at its beginning.

Cennick, and those who sympathised with his sentiments, refused to own that they had done aught amiss; and declared that, on many occasions, he had heard both Wesley and his brother preach Popery. Wesley gave them another week to think the matter over. They were still intractable; and alleged that the real cause of their expulsion was their holding the doctrine of election. Wesley answered, “You know in your conscience it is not. There are several predestinarians in our societies both at London and Bristol, nor did I ever put any one out of either because he held that opinion.” The result of the whole was, Cennick and fifty-one others at once withdrew, and the remainder, numbering about a hundred, still adhered to Wesley.[396]

Such was the first schism in Methodist history,—John Cennick the leader,—fifty of the Kingswood members its abettors,—and John Wesley and a majority of the Kingswood society, the court enacting their expulsion.

The writer’s chief object is to furnish facts, and therefore he refrains from comment on these transactions. No doubt Cennick was sincere. After the risks he ran in preaching Christ, no one can doubt his Christian earnestness: but, having come to Kingswood at Wesley’s invitation, and having been employed by him as the teacher of his school, and also as an evangelist among the surrounding colliers, it would, at least, have been more courteous to have quietly retired from his present sphere of action, when he found his views different from those of his patron and his friend, than it was for him to pursue the controversial and divisive course he did. John Cennick had a lion’s courage and a martyr’s piety; but his passions sometimes mastered his prudence, and, for want of the serpent’s wisdom, he often failed in exhibiting the meekness of the dove.

Whitefield arrived in London a few days after the Kingswood expulsion; and Wesley, on the 25th of March, hastened off to meet him. Whitefield told him they preached two different gospels, and that he was resolved to preach against him and his brother wherever he preached at all. A weekly publication, of four folio pages, entitled “The Weekly History; or An Account of the most remarkable Particulars relating to the present Progress of the Gospel,” was immediately started by J. Lewis, Whitefield promising to supply him with fresh matter every week. This was really the first Methodist newspaper ever published. Of course, Calvinism was its inspiring genius. The principal contributors were Whitefield, Cennick, Howel Harris, and Joseph Humphreys.

The last mentioned was employed by Wesley as a sort of Moravian lay preacher, as early as the year 1738,[397] and was greatly attached to him. At this period, he was acting as Moravian minister at Deptford, and wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“DEPTFORD, April 5, 1741.

“DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,—I think I love you better than ever. I would not grieve you by any means, if I could possibly help it. I think I had never more power in preaching than I had this morning. And, if this is the consequence of electing everlasting love, may my soul be ever filled with it!”[398]

In another letter, of three weeks later date, addressed to “Mr. M——,” he avows his belief in the doctrine of final perseverance, and proceeds to say:—

“The doctrine of sinless perfection in this life, I utterly renounce. I believe the preaching of it has led many souls into darkness and confusion. I believe those that hold it, if children of God at all, are in a very legal state. I believe those who pretend to have attained it are dangerously ignorant of their own hearts. I also see that, if I incline towards universal redemption any longer, I must also hold with universal salvation.”

He then adds: “Last Saturday I sent the following letter to the Rev. Mr. J. Wesley.”

“REVEREND SIR,—I would have been joined with you to all eternity if I could; but my having continued with you so long as I have has led me into grievous temptation; and I now think it my duty no longer to join with you, but openly to renounce your peculiar doctrines. I have begun to do it at London; and, as the Lord shall enable me, will proceed to do it here at Bristol. I feel no bitterness in my spirit, but love you, pray for you, and respect you.

“I am, sir, your humble servant and unworthy brother, “JOSEPH HUMPHREYS.”

The above letter was sent to the editor of the Weekly History by Whitefield, accompanied by the following note:—

“I would have you print this letter with my last. If you think it best, I would also have it printed in the Daily Advertiser. I see the mystery of iniquity, that is working, more and more.

“Ever yours, “G. WHITEFIELD.“[399]

Humphreys and Cennick were now both at Kingswood, which was, for the time being, the head quarters of the Calvinistic schism. Here, in the month of April, the separatists got, from an old man, his copy of Wesley’s treatise against predestination, and burnt it.[400] About the same time, however, Wesley distributed a thousand copies among Whitefield’s congregation, and a thousand more at the Foundery;[401] and, in the same month, addressed the following characteristic letter to his friend.[402]

“April, 1741.

“Would you have me deal plainly with you? I believe you would; then, by the grace of God, I will.

“Of many things I find you are not rightly informed; of others you speak what you have not well weighed.

“‘The society room at Bristol,’ you say, ‘ is adorned,’ How? Why, with a piece of green cloth nailed to the desk; and two sconces for eight candles each in the middle. I know no more. Now, which of these can be spared I know not; nor would I desire more adorning, or less.

“But ‘lodgings are made for me and my brother,’ That is, in plain English, there is a little room by the school, where I speak to the persons who come to me; and a garret, in which a bed is placed for me. And do you grudge me this? Is this the voice of my brother, my son, Whitefield?

“You say further, ‘that the children at Bristol are clothed as well as taught,’ I am sorry for it, for the cloth is not paid for yet, and was bought without my consent, or knowledge. ‘But those at Kingswood have been neglected,’ This is not so, notwithstanding the heavy debt that lay upon it. One master and one mistress have been in the house ever since it was capable of receiving them. A second master has been placed there some months since; and I have long been seeking for two proper mistresses; so that as much has been done, as matters stand, if not more, than I can answer to God and man.

“Hitherto, then, there is no ground for the heavy charge of perverting your design for the poor colliers. Two years since, your design was to build them a school. To this end, you collected some money more than once; how much I cannot say, till I have my papers. But this I know, it was not near one-half of what has been expended on the work. This design you then recommended to me, and I pursued it with all my might, through such a train of difficulties as, I will be bold to say, you have not met with in your life. For many months, I collected money wherever I was, and began building, though I had not then a quarter of the money requisite to finish. However, taking all the debt upon myself, the creditors were willing to stay; and then it was that I took possession of it in my own name; that is, when the foundation was laid; and I immediately made my will, fixing you and my brother to succeed me therein.

“But it is a poor case, that you and I should be talking thus. Indeed, these things ought not to be. It lay in your power to have prevented all, and yet to have borne testimony to what you call ‘the truth.’ If you had disliked my sermon, you might have printed another on the same text, and have answered my proofs, without mentioning my name; this had been fair and friendly.”

The two friends were thus at variance; but every candid reader must honestly acknowledge, that Wesley triumphantly refutes Whitefield’s petulant objections.

Meanwhile, Whitefield’s adherents in the metropolis, within a few days after his arrival, set to work to erect him a wooden building near the Foundery, which they called “a Tabernacle, for morning’s exposition.”[403] On April 25, he went to Bristol, where Charles Wesley was officiating; and, three weeks after, wrote to a friend, saying, “The doctrines of the gospel are sadly run down, and most monstrous errors propagated. They assert, ‘that the very in-being of sin must be taken out of us, or otherwise we are not new creatures,’ However, at Bristol, error is in a great measure put a stop to.”[404]

So Whitefield thought, and yet, at this very time, Charles Wesley was preaching at Bristol and Kingswood, if possible, with greater power than ever. In June, however, Whitefield began to collect money for a rival meeting-house at Kingswood, and wished John Cennick to lay the foundation immediately, but to take care not to make the building either too large or too handsome.[405]

Wesley and Whitefield were divided; but Howel Harris, with his warm Welsh heart, tried to reunite them. In the month of October, Harris had loving interviews with both Wesley and his brother, and wrote to Whitefield, then in Scotland. Whitefield, easily moved in the path of Christian love, immediately addressed to Wesley the letter following:—

“ABERDEEN, October 10, 1741.

“REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—This morning I received a letter from brother Harris, telling me how he had conversed with you and your dear brother. May God remove all obstacles that now prevent our union! Though I hold particular election, yet I offer Jesus freely to every individual soul. You may carry sanctification to what degrees you will, only I cannot agree with you that the in-being of sin is to be destroyed in this life. In about three weeks, I hope to be at Bristol. May all disputings cease, and each of us talk of nothing but Jesus and Him crucified! This is my resolution. I am, without dissimulation,

“Ever yours, “G. WHITEFIELD.”[406]

It was nearly two years after this that Wesley wrote the piece, in his collected works, entitled, “Calvinistic Controversy” (vol. xiii., p. 478). He says:—

“Having found for some time a strong desire to unite with Mr. Whitefield, as far as possible, to cut off needless dispute, I wrote down my sentiments, as plain as I could, in the following terms:—

“There are three points in debate: 1. Unconditional election. 2. Irresistible grace. 3. Final perseverance.”

With regard to the first, Wesley expresses his belief, that God has unconditionally elected certain persons to do certain work, and certain nations to receive peculiar privileges; and allows, though he says he cannot prove, that God “has unconditionally elected some persons, thence eminently styled ‘the elect,’ to eternal glory;” but he cannot believe, that all those, not thus elected to glory, must perish everlastingly; or, that there is a soul on earth but what has the chance of escaping eternal damnation.

With regard to irresistible grace, he believes, that the grace which brings faith, and, thereby, salvation, is irresistible at that moment; and, that most believers may remember a time when God irresistibly convinced them of sin, and other times when He acted irresistibly upon their souls; but he also believes, that the grace of God, both before and after these moments, may be, and hath been resisted; and that, in general, it does not act irresistibly, but we may comply therewith, or may not. In those eminently styled “the elect” (if such there be), the grace of God is so far irresistible, that they cannot but believe, and be finally saved; but it is not true, that all those must be damned in whom it does not thus irresistibly work, or, that there is a soul living who has not any other grace than such as was designed of God to increase his damnation.

With regard to final perseverance, he believes, “that there is a state attainable in this life, from which a man cannot finally fall; and that he has attained this, who can say, ‘Old things are passed away; all things in me are become new;’ and, further, he does not deny, that all those eminently styled ‘the elect’ will infallibly persevere to the end.”[407]

In reference to “the elect,” Henry Moore adds, that Wesley told him, that, when he wrote this, he believed, with Macarius, that all who are perfected in love are thus elect.

The document from which the above is taken, was written in 1743. As Mr. Jackson says, it “evidently leans too much towards Calvinism.” It is valuable chiefly because it shows Wesley’s anxiety to be at peace with Whitefield. The latter writes as though all the blame, in reference to the rupture in their friendship, lay with Wesley; whereas this was far from being true. Wesley honestly and firmly believed the doctrine of general redemption; and, because he preached it, and published a sermon in condemnation of the doctrines opposed to it, Whitefield worked himself into a fume, and wrote his pamphlet, in which he not only tries to refute Wesley’s teaching, but unnecessarily makes a personal attack on Wesley’s character, and taunts him about casting lots,—a wanton outrage, for which, in October, 1741, he humbly begged his pardon.[408] The intolerant, excessive zeal was altogether on the side of Whitefield. Wesley believed and preached general redemption; but raised no objection to Whitefield believing and preaching election and final perseverance. Instead of reciprocating this, Whitefield, in his pamphlet, blustered; and, in his letters, whined, until the difference of opinion disturbed their friendship, and led them to build separate chapels, form separate societies, and pursue, to the end of life, separate lines of action. One of Wesley’s friends wished him to reply to Whitefield’s pamphlet. Wesley answered, “You may read Whitefield against Wesley; but you shall never read Wesley against Whitefield.”[409] In private, Wesley opposed Whitefield, but in public never. On one occasion, when the two friends met in a large social gathering, Whitefield mounted his hobby, and spoke largely and valiantly in defence of his favourite system. Wesley, on the other hand, was silent till all the company were gone, when, turning to the spurred and belted controversial knight, he quietly remarked, “Brother, are you aware of what you have done to-night?” “Yes,” said Whitefield, “I have defended truth.” “You have tried to prove,” replied Wesley, “that God is worse than the devil; for the devil can only tempt a man to sin; but, if what you have said be true, God forces a man to sin; and therefore, on your own system, God is worse than the devil.”[410]

Thus the gulf between Wesley and Whitefield was immense. “It was undesirable—indeed, it was impossible—that they should continue to address, in turn, the same congregations; for such congregations would have been kept in the pitiable condition of a ship, thrown on its beam ends, larboard and starboard, by hurricanes driving alternately east and west.”[411]

Being separated from Whitefield and the Moravians, Wesley began to purge and to organise the societies, which were now purely and properly his own. At Bristol, he took an account of every person—(1) to whom any reasonable objection was made; and (2) who was not known to and recommended by some, on whose veracity he could depend. To those who were sufficiently recommended, he gave tickets. Most of the rest he had face to face with their accusers; and such as appeared to be innocent, or confessed their faults and promised better behaviour, were then received into the society. The others were put upon trial again, unless they voluntarily expelled themselves. By this purging process, about forty were excluded.[412] He also appointed stewards, to receive and expend what was contributed weekly; and, finding the funds insufficient, he discharged two of the Bristol schoolmasters, retaining still, at Kingswood and Bristol unitedly, three masters and two mistresses for the two schools respectively.

In London, he adopted the same process, and set apart the hours from ten to two, on every day but Saturday, for speaking with the bands and other persons, that no disorderly walker, nor any of a careless or contentious spirit, might remain among them; the result of which was the society was reduced to about a thousand members.[413] Ascertaining that many of the members were without needful food, and destitute of convenient clothing, he appointed twelve persons to visit every alternate day, and to provide things needful for the sick; also to meet once a week to give an account of their proceedings, and to consult what could be done further. Women, out of work, he proposed to employ in knitting, giving them the common price for the work they did, and then adding gratuities according to their needs. To meet these expenses, he requested those who could afford it, to give a penny weekly, and to contribute any clothing which their own use did not require.

Here we have a new Methodist agency employed. Wesley had already permitted laymen to exhort and preach; he now authorised them to pay pastoral visits among his people. At present, they were mere visitors, and meetings analogous to the class-meetings of the present day did not exist. The two Wesleys often addressed the societies apart, after they had dismissed the general congregation. They also fixed certain hours for private conversation; and now they appointed visitors to visit those who through sickness, poverty, or other causes, were not able to avail themselves of such assistance. This, as yet, was all. In the present sense, bands and classes there were none, except that each society, after the manner of the Moravians, was divided into male and female, and, perhaps, married and unmarried, bands, all of them watched over by Wesley or by his brother; and the sick and poor among them visited by persons appointed to that office. In Bristol, several members applied to Wesley for baptism, and he gave the bishop notice to that effect, adding, that they desired him to baptize them by immersion.[414] The Kingswood society, having been repelled from the sacramental table at Temple church, Charles Wesley gave them the sacrament in their own humble school; and, notwithstanding his high churchism, declared that, under the circumstances, if they had not had the school, he should have felt himself justified in administering it in the wood. In London, some of the members communicated at St. Paul’s, or at their own parish churches; but, during the autumn, on five successive Sundays, Wesley availed himself of the offer of Mr. Deleznot, a French clergyman, and used his small church, in Hermitage Street, Wapping, in administering the Lord’s supper to five successive batches of about two hundred members of his society (as many as the place could well contain), until all the society, consisting of about a thousand persons, had received it.[415]

To the members at Bristol, and doubtless also at London, Wesley gave tickets. On every ticket he wrote, with his own hand, the member’s name, “so that,” says he, “the ticket implied as strong a recommendation of the person to whom it was given as if I had wrote at length, ‘I believe the bearer hereof to be one that fears God and works righteousness.’”

Wesley regarded these tickets as being equivalent to the επιστολαι συστατικαι, “commendatory letters,” mentioned by the apostle, and says they were of use: (1) because, wherever those who bore them came, they were acknowledged by their brethren, and received with all cheerfulness; (2) when the societies had to meet apart, the tickets easily distinguished who were members and who were not; (3) they supplied a quiet and inoffensive method of removing any disorderly member; for, the tickets being changed once a quarter, and, of course, no new ticket being given to such a person, it was hereby immediately known that he was no longer a member of the community.[416]

The writer is possessed of nearly a complete set of these society tickets, from the first, issued about 1742, to those given a hundred years afterwards. Many of them bear the autographs of John and Charles Wesley, William Grimshaw, and other old Methodist worthies. The earliest are wood and copper-plate engravings, printed on cardboard, without any text of Scripture: some bearing the emblem of an angel flying in the clouds of heaven, with one trumpet to his mouth, and a second in his hand; and others of the Sun of Righteousness shining on a phœnix rising out of fire. Some have a dove encircled with glory; and others have no engraving whatever, but simply an inscription, written by Charles Wesley, “August, 1746.” Some merely have the word “Society” imprinted, with the member’s name written underneath; others have a lamb carrying a flag; and others a tree with a broken stem, Jehovah as a sun shining on it, and at its foot two men, one planting a new cutting, and the other watering one already planted. Some represent Christ in the clouds of heaven, with the cross in one hand and a crown in the other; and others represent the Christian kneeling before an altar, inscribed with the words, “Pray always and faint not.” One represents Christ as washing a disciple’s feet; and another, with a text of Scripture at the top, has four lines below, in which are printed, “March 25, June 25, September 29, December 25,” with space left opposite to each for writing the member’s name, and so making one ticket serve for the four quarters of a year. One bears the impress of an anchor and a crown; and another the image of old father Time, hurrying along, with a scroll in his hand, inscribed with “Now is the accepted time.” Some are printed with black ink, some with red, and some with blue. About 1750, emblems gave place to texts of Scripture, which have been continued from that time to this.

The Methodist societies, as organised by Wesley, were thus fairly started in 1741. Meanwhile, Methodism on earth began to swell the inhabitants of heaven. At the very commencement of the year, Elizabeth Davis, of London, after she was speechless, being desired to hold up her hand if she knew she was going to God, immediately held up both. Anne Cole, on being asked by Wesley, whether she chose to live or die, answered: “I choose neither, I choose nothing. I am in my Saviour’s hands, and I have no will but His.” Another of the London members, when visited by Wesley, said: “I am very ill,—but I am very well. O, I am happy, happy, happy! My spirit continually rejoices in God my Saviour. Life or death is all one to me. I have no darkness, no cloud. My body indeed is weak and in pain, but my soul is all joy and praise.” Jane Muncy exclaimed: “I faint not, I murmur not, I rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks. God is ever with me, and I have nothing to do but praise Him.” In Bristol, a woman in her dying agonies cried out: “O, how loving is God to me! But He is loving to every man, and loves every soul as well as He loves mine.” The last words of another were, “Death stares me in the face, but I fear him not.” Hannah Richardson, who was followed to her grave by the whole of the Bristol society, the procession being pelted in the streets with dirt and stones, said: “I have no fear, no doubt, no trouble. Heaven is open! I see Jesus Christ with all His angels and saints in white. I see what I cannot utter or express.” Sister Hooper cried, “I am in great pain, but in greater joy.” Sister Lillington exclaimed, “I never felt such love before; I love every soul: I am all love, and so is God.” Rachel Peacock sang hymns incessantly, and was so filled with joy that she shouted: “Though I groan, I feel no pain at all; Christ so rejoices and fills my heart.”[417] And to all these may be added Keziah Wesley. In a letter to his brother, dated March 9, 1741, Charles Wesley writes: “Yesterday morning, sister Kezzy died in the Lord Jesus. He finished His work, and cut it short in mercy. Full of thankfulness, resignation, and love, without pain or trouble, she commended her spirit into the hands of Jesus, and fell asleep.”[418]

These were triumphs in the midst of troubles; for, besides the anxiety and pain arising out of the differences with Whitefield and the Moravians, Wesley, in 1741, had to encounter no inconsiderable amount of unprincipled persecution. At Deptford, while he was preaching, “many poor wretches were got together, utterly devoid both of common sense and common decency, who cried aloud, as if just come from ‘among the tombs.’” In London, on Shrove Tuesday, “many men of the baser sort” mixed themselves with the female part of his congregation, and behaved with great indecency. “A constable commanded them to keep the peace, in answer to which they knocked him down.” In Long Lane, while Wesley was preaching, the mob pelted him with stones, one of great size passing close past his head. In Marylebone fields, in the midst of his sermon, out of doors, missiles fell thick and fast on every side. In Charles Square, Hoxton, the rabble brought an ox which they endeavoured to drive through the congregation. A man, who happened to be a Dissenting minister, after hearing him preach at Chelsea, asked, “Quid est tibi nomen?” and, on Wesley not answering his impertinence, the pedantic puppy turned in triumph to his friends, and said, “Ah! I told you he did not understand Latin.” Among other slanders concerning him, it was currently reported that he had paid a fine of £20, for selling Geneva gin; that he kept in his house two popish priests; that he had received large remittances from Spain, in order to make a party among the poor; and that, as soon as the Spaniards landed, he was to join them with twenty thousand men. It was also rumoured, that, in Bristol, he had hanged himself, and had been cut down just in time to save his life. The Scots Magazine, for August, had a scurrilous article to the following effect. Above thirty Methodists had been in Bedlam, and six were there at present. Wesley had set up, at his Moorfields meeting-house, a number of spinning wheels, where girls who had absconded from their homes, and servants who had been discharged for neglecting their master’s business, were set to work, and were allowed sixpence daily, the overplus of their earnings going into Wesley’s pocket. Boys and girls mixed together, and were taught to call each other brother and sister in the Lord. They had to greet each other with a holy kiss, and to show the utmost affection and fondness, in imitation of the primitive Christians. In the rooms adjoining the spinning wheels were several beds, and when persons, in the Foundery congregation, fell into fits, either pretended or real, they were carried out and laid upon these beds, that Wesley might pray the evil spirits out of them, and the good spirit into them, and thus convert them.

In refutation of this tissue of unmingled falsehoods, a writer says, in the same magazine, that he had visited the Foundery, and found it “an old open house, like the tennis court at Edinburgh;” but there were no bedchambers, and no spinning wheels; and, consequently, no runaway girls nor discarded menials. And, so far from above thirty Methodists having been sent to Bedlam, the writer had made inquiry in London, and was unable to hear of one.[419]

The Gentleman’s Magazine, for the same year (page 26), has a ridiculous letter, purporting to be from a Methodist to a clergyman, in which the clergyman is charged with turning “the Scripters upside down,” and with calling the Methodists “expownding infildelfels.” Appended to the letter are annotations, stating that, in a certain barn, twenty or thirty Methodists rendezvous to hear a young schoolmaster preach, pray, and sing Wesley’s hymns; and that, recently, a mob of juveniles had chastised his ambition by throwing snowballs at him; but the preaching pedagogue, instead of ceasing, had cheered himself by singing hymns suitable to such adventurers; and a cobbler’s wife had been so excited by his dissertations upon the pangs of the new birth, that she imagined herself pregnant with devils, had been delivered of two or three, but still felt others struggling within her.

The Weekly Miscellany tells its readers that, in the assemblies of the expounding houses, lately erected in the outskirts of London by the Methodists, any one, who conceits himself inwardly moved, immediately sets up for a Scripture expounder. In a long article, it pretends to show that the Methodist preachers are like the German Anabaptists—1. Because they act contrary to the oaths they have taken. 2. Because of their invectives against the clergy. 3. Because they are against all rule and authority. 4. Because they let laymen and also women preach. 5. Because they preach in the streets. 6. Because they denounce vengeance and damnation against sinners. 7. Because they contend for absolute perfection in this life. 8. Because they pretend to be always guided by the Holy Ghost. And, 9. Because they hold the doctrine of community of goods.

The same abusive but vigorously written paper contains an attack upon the poor Methodists, by Hooker, the editor, begun in the number for March 14, and continued weekly until June 27, when this scolding periodical came to a well deserved termination. The following are a few selections:—

March 28.—Wesley pretends to cast out spirits from those whom he declares possessed of them; but he is “a grand, empty, inconsistent heretic; the ringleader, fomenter, and first cause of all the divisions, separations, factions, and feuds that have happened in Oxford, London, Bristol, and other places where he has been.”

April 25.—Wesley rebaptizes adults, on the ground that, really they have never been baptized before, the baptism of infants by sprinkling being no true baptism in his esteem. When Whitefield returned from Georgia, he preached at the Foundery, taking for his text, “O foolish Galatians, who hath bewitched you?” For this he was immediately excommunicated from the Foundery pulpit, lest the people should think that Wesley was a conjuror. “Everybody allows that there are above twenty, and some say forty, spinning wheels at the Foundery.” “Wesley well knows how to breakfast with one of his devotees, dine with another, and sup with a third, all of which retrenches the charges of housekeeping at home. Those who sit in his gallery must subscribe five shillings a quarter, and those who stand, a penny a week. He who advances half-a-crown a quarter is admitted into the close society; and he who doubles that amount becomes a member of the bands, where men and women stay all night, but for what purpose is known only to God and to themselves. The price for resolving cases of conscience is threepence each. Wesley makes at least £50 by every edition of the hymns he publishes; and thus, by his preaching, his bookselling, his workhouse, his wheedling, and his sponging, it is generally believed that he gets an income of £700 a year, and some say above £1000. This,” adds the mendacious editor, “is priest-craft in perfection.”

May 9.—The writer speculates concerning what is likely to be the end of the Methodist movement. 1. Some think if the Methodists are let alone, they will, as a matter of course, fall to pieces. 2. Others think that the irreconcilable differences between Wesley and Whitefield will effect their ruin; for Whitefield has set up a conventicle of boards not far from Wesley’s Foundery; and while one calls the other schismatic, the other in requital calls him a heretic. 3. Some think that their congregations, by neglecting their business and their work, will be reduced to beggary, and this, of course, will ruin all. 4. Lastly, others think their conduct will be such that the government will find it necessary to suppress them.

June 13.—Proposes the erection of a Methodist edifice on Blackheath. The foundation stone is to be the tombstone that prevented the resurrection of Dr. Emes, the famous French prophet. The principal entrance is to be adorned with statues of the most eminent field-preachers. The hall is to be decorated with a piece, in which the principal figure is to be Enthusiasm, sitting in an easy chair, and just delivered of two beauteous babes, the one called Superstition, and the other Infidelity. On her right hand must be a grisly old gentleman with a cloven foot, holding the new born children in a receiver, which the Pope has blessed, and gazing upon them with most fatherly affection. The pang room of the building is to be for the accommodation of those seized with the pangs of the new birth. All who run mad about election must be lodged in the predestination room,—which, by the way, is likely to be well peopled, and therefore must be large, as well as dark and gloomy, and must be adorned with the evolutions, intricacies, and involutions of a rusty chain, held at one end by the Methodistic founder, and at the other by the devil. The disputation room is, like a cockpit, to be round as a hoop, so that the disputants may have the pleasure of disputing in a circle. The expounding room is to be adorned with a picture of the founder, with a pair of scissors in one hand and a Bible in the other; a motto over his reverend head, “Dividing the word of God;” and all round about scraps of paper supposed to be texts newly clipped from the sacred Scriptures. The refectory is to have a painting to represent Wesley, Whitefield, and C. Graves at supper, with Madam Bourignon presiding. Near her must be an ass’s head boiled with sprouts and bacon; and, at the other end of the table, a dish of owls roasted and larded. Having already helped Whitefield to the jaw bone of the ass’s head, and Wesley to the sweet tooth, she now gives Mr. Graves a spoonful of the brains and a bit of tongue, which he receives with a grateful bow. The foundation stone is to be laid on the first of April; and the procession to the site are to sing, not the psalms of David, for they are not half good enough, but a hymn of Wesley’s own composing.

Ridicule like this was even worse than being pelted with brickbats and rotten eggs.

The two Wesleys and Whitefield were often roughly treated; and so also was John Cennick, the Methodist Moravian. At Swindon, the mob surrounded his congregation, rung a bell, blew a horn, and used a fire engine in drenching him and them with water. Guns were fired over the people’s heads, and rotten eggs were plentiful.[420] At Hampton, near Gloucester, the rabble, chiefly soldiers, to annoy him, beat a drum and let off squibs and crackers. For an hour and a half, hog’s wash and fœtid water were poured upon him and his congregation, who all the while stood perfectly still, in secret prayer, with their eyes and hands lifted up to heaven.[421] At Stratton, a crowd of furious men came, armed with weapons, clubs, and staves. Cudgels were used most unmercifully. Some of his congregation had blood streaming down their faces; others, chiefly women, were dragged away by the hair of their head. Sylvester Keen spat in the face of Cennick’s sister, and beat her about the head, as if he meant to kill her. The mob bellowed and roared like maniacs; but Cennick kept on preaching and praying till he was violently pulled down; when he and his friends set out for Lineham, singing hymns, and followed by the crowd, who bawled—“You cheating dog, you pickpocketing rogue, sell us a halfpenny ballad!”[422]

In the midst of such treatment, Methodism went on its way, and prospered. It is a remarkable fact, that, during 1741, there were no stricken cases, like those which occurred in 1739, excepting two at Bristol; but there were many signal seasons of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. A man, who had been an atheist for twenty years, came to the Foundery to make sport, but was so convinced of sin, that he rested not until he found peace with God. At Bristol, on one occasion, “some wept aloud, some clapped their hands, some shouted, and the rest sang praise.” In Charles Square, London, while a violent storm was raging, “their hearts danced for joy, praising ‘the glorious God that maketh the thunder.’”

Two or three other important events, occurring in the year 1741, must be noticed.

At midsummer, Wesley spent about three weeks in Oxford. Here he inquired concerning the exercises requisite in order to become a Bachelor in Divinity. The Oxford Methodists were scattered. Out of twenty-five or thirty weekly communicants, only two were left; and not one continued to attend the daily prayers of the Church. Here he met with his old friend, Mr. Gambold, who told him he need be under no concern respecting his sermon before the university, which he had come to preach, for the authorities would be utterly regardless of what he said. Here also he had a conversation with Richard Viney, originally a London tailor, but now the Oxford Moravian minister,—a man, as James Hutton tells us, whose person, delivery, and bearing prevented his sermons being acceptable to many, and yet a man, who, in this same year, was elected president of the society in Fetter Lane. Ultimately he removed to Broad Oaks, Essex, as the superintendent of the Moravian school; then, by casting lots, was condemned as an enemy of the work of God; and then joined Wesley’s society at Birstal, which he so perverted, that they “laughed at all fasting, and self denial, and family prayer,” and treated even John Nelson slightingly.[423]

Wesley preached his sermon at St. Mary’s, on Saturday, July 25, to one of the largest congregations he had seen in Oxford. His text was: “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian;” and his two divisions, (1) what is implied in being almost; and (2) what in being altogether, a Christian. The sermon is one of the most faithful that Wesley ever preached. It was printed by W. Strahan, 12mo, pages 21, and was sold at twopence.

It is almost certain, however, that this was not the sermon that Wesley meant to preach. After his decease, a mutilated manuscript in English was found among his papers, dated “July 24, 1741” (a month before he preached at Oxford), and also a copy of the same in Latin. This was a discourse on the text, “How is the faithful city become an harlot!” There can be no question that the sermon was written with the design of being delivered before the university, and that, for some reason, the design for the present was abandoned. The sermon, if preached, must inevitably have brought upon the preacher the ire of his hearers. While admitting that the university had some who were faithful witnesses of gospel truth, Wesley alleges that, comparatively speaking, they were very few. To say nothing of deists, Arians, and Socinians, some of the chief champions of the faith were far from being faultless. Tillotson had published several sermons expressly to prove that, not faith alone, but good works, are necessary in order to justification; and the great Bishop Bull had taken the same position. Wesley then proceeds to attack the members of the university in a way, perhaps, not the most prudent. He asks if it is not a fact, that many of them “believe that a good moral man, and a good Christian, mean the same?” He continues:—

“Scarcely is the form of godliness seen among us. Take any one you meet; take a second, a third, a fourth, or the twentieth. Not one of them has even the appearance of a saint, any more than of an angel. Is there no needless visiting on the sabbath day? no trifling, no impertinence of conversation? And, on other days, are not the best of our conversing hours spent in foolish talking and jesting, nay, perhaps, in wanton talking too? Are there not many among us found to eat and drink with the drunken? Are not even the hours assigned for study too commonly employed in reading plays, novels, and idle tales? How many voluntary blockheads there are among us, whose ignorance is not owing to incapacity, but to mere laziness! How few, of the vast number, who have it in their power, are truly learned men! Who is there that can be said to understand Hebrew? Might I not say, or even Greek? O what is so scarce as learning, save religion!”[424]

The remainder of this remarkable sermon is in the same strain. Its allegations, we are afraid, were true; but the sermon was far too personal to be prudent, and Wesley exercised a wise discretion in exchanging it for the other.

During the year 1741, while in Wales, Wesley was seized with a serious illness. Hastening to Bristol, he was ordered, by Dr. Middleton, to go to bed,—“a strange thing to me,” he writes, “who have not kept my bed a day for five-and-thirty years.” A dangerous fever followed, and the Bristol society held a fast and offered prayer. For eight days, he hung between life and death; and, for three weeks, he was kept a prisoner, when, contrary to the advice given him, he resumed his work, and began to preach daily.

This was a long interval of enforced retirement for a man of Wesley’s active temperament; but it was not unprofitably spent. As soon as he could, he began to read, and during his convalescence devoured half-a-dozen works. He read “the life of that truly good and great man, Mr. Philip Henry;” and “the life of Mr. Matthew Henry,—a man not to be despised, either as a scholar or a Christian, though not equal to his father.” He read “Mr. Laval’s ‘History of the Reformed Churches in France;’ full of the most amazing instances of the wickedness of men, and of the goodness and power of God.” He likewise read “Turretin’s ‘History of the Church,’ a dry, heavy, barren treatise.” He gave a second perusal to “Theologia Germanica,” and asks, “O, how was it that I could ever so admire the affected obscurity of this unscriptural writer?” He also “read again, with great surprise, part of the ‘Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius,’” and says, “so weak, credulous, thoroughly injudicious a writer have I seldom found.”

Among the pamphlets published against Wesley, during 1741, was one entitled: “The Perfectionists Examined; or, Inherent Perfection in this Life, no Scripture Doctrine. By William Fleetwood, Gent.” 8vo, 99 pages. Fleetwood asserts that, of all the open and professed enemies of the gospel, the Methodists are the worst; “they are more destructive to religion than the papists or Mahometans;” “by their artful insinuations, and outward sanctity, they have drawn numbers of silly women after them; they plainly show themselves to be some of those of whom the apostle Peter prophesied, ‘Such as bring in damnable heresies, denying the Lord that bought them’”; “and are more like French enthusiasts, or rank papists, than true Christians.” The reader must guess the rest.

Another opponent was Joseph Hart, who published a small work on “The Unreasonableness of Religion, being Remarks and Animadversions on Mr. John Wesley’s Sermon on Romans viii. 32.” Of all the enemies Wesley had, Joseph Hart was one of the most persisting, for he scarcely ever preached without endeavouring, more or less, to explode Wesley’s doctrines, as tending to lead the people into dangerous delusions.[425]

Another pamphlet, octavo, 75 pages, published during the year 1741, was entitled: “The Doctrine of Justification by Faith, stated according to the Articles of the Church of England. By Arthur Bedford, M.A., Chaplain to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.” This was written at the request of “a member of the religious societies in London,” who told the author, that, “there had been great disputes among them lately concerning this doctrine; some having advanced faith so high, as to make no necessity of a good life; and others having advanced works so high, as to make faith to consist only in a general belief, that the New Testament is the word of God.” The pamphlet is an able production, and is temperately written. To most of its sentiments, Wesley himself would have raised no objection.

It only remains to notice Wesley’s own publications during 1741.[426]

Probably the first was his sermon, entitled, “Christian Perfection.” He writes: “I think it was in the latter end of the year 1740, that I had a conversation with Dr. Gibson, then bishop of London, at Whitehall. He asked me what I meant by perfection. I told him without any disguise or reserve. When I ceased speaking, he said, ‘Mr. Wesley, if this be all you mean, publish it to all the world,’ I answered, ‘My lord, I will’; and accordingly wrote and published the sermon on Christian perfection.”[427]

The two divisions of this important sermon are: (1) in what sense Christians are not, and (2) in what sense they are, perfect. Wesley shows that no one is so perfect in this life, as to be free from ignorance, from mistakes, from infirmities, and from temptations. On the other hand, he proves that the perfect Christian is freed from outward sin; from evil thoughts; and from evil tempers. The sermon is elaborate, and has affixed to it Charles Wesley’s hymn on “The Promise of Sanctification,” consisting of twenty-eight stanzas, and beginning with the line,—“God of all power, and truth, and grace.”

Another of Wesley’s publications was, “A Collection of Psalms and Hymns.” Hitherto, all the hymn-books, except the first, had borne, on the title-page, the names of both the brothers; but this has the name of Wesley only.

A third was, “A Dialogue between a Predestinarian and his Friend.” 12mo, eight pages. The object of this short tract is to show, from the writings of Piscator, Calvin, Zanchius, and others, that predestinarianism teaches, that God causes reprobates to sin, and creates them on purpose to be damned.[428]

Besides the above, Wesley published four abridgments from other works.

1. “The Scripture Doctrine concerning Predestination, Election, and Reprobation.” 12mo, 16 pages.

2. “Serious Considerations on Absolute Predestination.” 12mo, 24 pages. The tract proves, that the doctrine of absolute predestination is objectionable: (1) because it makes God the author of sin; (2) because, it makes Him delight in the death of sinners; (3) because, it is highly injurious to Christ our Mediator; (4) because, it makes the preaching of the gospel a mere mock and illusion; etc.

3. “An Extract of the Life of Monsieur De Renty, a late Nobleman of France.” 12mo, pages 67. De Renty usually rose at five o’clock; communicated every day; and spent his time in devotion and doing good. For several years he ate but one meal a day, and even that was scanty and always of the poorest food. He often passed the night in a chair, instead of in bed, or would lie down upon a bench in his clothes and boots. He parted with several books, because richly bound; and carried no silver about him, but for works of charity. When his mother took from him a large portion of his property, he caused the Te Deum to be sung, beginning it himself. He was wont to say, “I carry about with me ordinarily a plenitude of the presence of the Holy Trinity.” In visiting the sick, he would kindle their fires, make their beds, and set in order their little household stuff. His zeal for the salvation of men was boundless. “I am ready,” said he, “to serve all men, not excepting one, and to lay down my life for any one.” He established numbers of societies at Caen and other places, for the purpose of Christians assisting one another in working out both their own and their neighbours’ salvation. He died at Paris, in the thirty-seventh year of his age, on April 24, 1649. De Renty was, in Wesley’s estimation, a model saint.

4. The fourth and last abridgment published, in 1741, was entitled, “Reflections upon the Conduct of Human Life, with reference to Learning and Knowledge.” 12mo, pages 36. This was extracted from a work written by Dr. John Norris, an old friend of Wesley’s father, and one of the principal contributors to the Athenian Gazette.[429]

The tract, throughout, is in a high degree rich and racy, and well worth reading. It unquestionably contains the great principles which guided Wesley in all his reading, writing, publishing of books, and educational efforts in general. He considered all kinds of knowledge useful; but, some being much more so than others, he devoted to them time and attention accordingly; and made the whole subordinate to the great purpose of human existence,—the glory of God, and the happiness of man. We finish the present chapter with a few sentences culled from the conclusion of this threepenny production:—

“I cannot, with any patience, reflect, that, out of so short a time as human life, consisting, it may be, of fifty or sixty years, nineteen or twenty shall be spent in hammering out a little Latin and Greek, and in learning a company of poetical fictions and fantastic stories. If one were to judge of the life of man by the proportion of it spent at school, one would think the antediluvian mark were not yet out. Besides, the things taught in seminaries are often frivolous. How many excellent and useful things might be learnt, while boys are thumbing and murdering Hesiod and Homer? Of what signification is such stuff as this, to the accomplishment of a reasonable soul? What improvement can it be to my understanding, to know the amours of Pyramus and Thisbe, or of Hero and Leander? Let any man but consider human nature, and tell me whether he thinks a boy is fit to be trusted with Ovid? And yet, to books such as these our youth is dedicated, and in these some of us employ our riper years; and, when we die, this makes one part of our funeral eulogy; though, according to the principles before laid down, we should have been as pertinently and more innocently employed all the while, if we had been picking straws in Bedlam. The measure of prosecuting learning is its usefulness to good life; and, consequently, all prosecution of it beyond or beside this end, is impertinent and immoderate. For my own part, I am so thoroughly convinced of the certainty of the principles here propounded, that I look upon myself as under almost a necessity of conducting my studies by them, and intend to study nothing at all but what serves to the advancement of piety and good life. I have spent about thirteen years in the most celebrated university in the world, in pursuing both such learning as the academical standard requires, and as my private genius inclined me to; but I intend to spend my uncertain remainder of time in studying only what makes for the moral improvement of my mind, and the regulation of my life. More particularly, I shall apply myself to read such books as are rather persuasive than instructive; such as warm, kindle, and enlarge the affections, and awaken the Divine sense in the soul; being convinced, by every day’s experience, that I have more need of heat than light; though were I for more light, still I think the love of God is the best light of the soul of man.”

This is a long extract; but it is of some consequence, as furnishing a key to the whole of Wesley’s literary pursuits—from this, the commencement of his Methodist career, to the end of his protracted life. His aim was not to shine in scholarship, but to live a life of goodness.

1742.

[Sidenote: 1742 Age 39]

Wesley now began to enlarge the sphere of his operations. Hitherto, his only stated congregations had been at Kingswood, at Bristol, and at the Foundery, London. For these, the ministrations of himself and his brother were sufficient; but, as the work increased, new preachers became needful. Cennick and Humphreys had both left him; but others supplied their places. John Nelson came to London, was converted, and, at the end of the year 1740, returned to Birstal in Yorkshire, where, impelled by the love of Christ, and almost without knowing it, he began to preach to his unconverted neighbours. Thomas Maxfield also, one of the first converts in Bristol, and who, for a year or two, seems to have travelled with Charles Wesley, perhaps in the capacity of servant, being left in London, to meet during Wesley’s absence the Foundery society, pray with them, and give them suitable advice, was insensibly led from praying to preaching,—his sermons being accompanied with such power, that numbers were made penitent and were converted. Wesley, hearing of this irregularity, hurried back to London, for the purpose of stopping it. His mother, living in his house, adjoining the Foundery, said: “John, take care what you do with respect to that young man, for he is as surely called of God to preach, as you are. Examine what have been the fruits of his preaching, and hear him yourself.” The Countess of Huntingdon also wrote: “Maxfield is one of the greatest instances of God’s peculiar favour that I know. He is my astonishment. The first time I made him expound, I expected little from him; but, before he had gone over one fifth part of his discourse, my attention was riveted, and I was immovable. His power in prayer, also, is very extraordinary.”[430]

Wesley was convinced, and the Rubicon was passed. “I am not clear,” he writes under the date of April 21, 1741, “that brother Maxfield should not expound at Greyhound Lane; nor can I as yet do without him. Our clergymen” (Stonehouse, Hall, and others) “have miscarried full as much as the laymen; and that the Moravians are other than laymen, I know not.”[431] Wesley wrote again, about four years after employing Maxfield:—

“I am bold to affirm, that these unlettered men have help from God for the great work of saving souls from death. But, indeed, in the one thing which they profess to know, they are not ignorant men. I trust there is not one of them, who is not able to go through such an examination, in substantial, practical, experimental divinity, as few of our candidates for holy orders, even in the university, are able to do. In answer to the objection, that they are laymen, I reply, the scribes of old, who were the ordinary preachers among the Jews, were not priests; they were not better than laymen. Yea, many of them were incapable of the priesthood, being not of the tribe of Levi. Hence, probably, it was, that the Jews themselves never urged it as an objection to our Lord’s preaching, that He was no priest after the order of Aaron; nor, indeed, could be; seeing He was of the tribe of Judah. Nor does it appear that any objected this to the apostles. If we come to later times, was Mr. Calvin ordained? Was he either priest or deacon? And were not most of those whom it pleased God to employ in promoting the Reformation abroad, laymen also? Could that great work have been promoted at all, in many places, if laymen had not preached? In all Protestant churches, ordination is not held a necessary pre-requisite of preaching; for in Sweden, in Germany, in Holland, and, I believe, in every Reformed church in Europe, it is not only permitted, but required, that, before any one is ordained, he shall publicly preach a year or more ad probandum facultatem. And, for this practice, they believe they have an express command of God; ‘let those first be proved, then let them use the office of a deacon, being found blameless’ (1 Tim. iii. 10). Besides, in how many churches, in England, does the parish clerk read one of the lessons, and in some the whole service of the Church, perhaps every Lord’s day? And do not other laymen constantly do the same thing in our very cathedrals? which, being under the inspection of the bishops, should be patterns to all other churches. Nay, is it not done in the universities themselves? Who ordained that singing man at Christ Church; who is likewise utterly unqualified for the work, murdering every lesson he reads; not endeavouring to read it as the word of God, but rather as an old song?”

Where is the priest, pretending that preaching belongs exclusively to those in orders, who can answer such arguments as these? But Wesley’s case was stronger than even this. He proceeds to relate that, after God had used him and his brother clergymen, in several places, in turning many from a course of sin to a course of holiness, the ministers of these places, instead of receiving them with open arms, spoke of them “as if the devil, not God, had sent them; and represented them as fellows not fit to live,—papists, heretics, traitors, conspirators against their king and country;” while the people, who had been converted by their preaching, were “driven from the Lord’s table, and were openly cursed in the name of God.” What could be done in a case like this? “No clergyman would assist at all. The expedient that remained was, to find some one among themselves, who was upright of heart, and of sound judgment in the things of God; and to desire him to meet the rest as often as he could, in order to confirm, as he was able, in the ways of God, either by reading to them, or by prayer, or by exhortation.”

This was done, and God blessed it. “In several places, by means of these unlettered men, not only those who had already begun to run well were hindered from drawing back to perdition; but other sinners also, from time to time, were converted from the error of their ways.”

“This plain account,” continues Wesley, “of the whole proceeding, I take to be the best defence of it. I know no scripture which forbids making use of such help, in a case of such necessity. And I praise God who has given even this help to those poor sheep, when ‘their own shepherds pitied them not.’”

Brave-hearted Wesley! The step he took was momentous; but he was a match for all opposers; and marvellous is the fact that the very Church, which so branded him for such a departure from Church order, is now actually copying his example. Notable, in future years, will be the incident, which has almost passed without being noticed, that, in the month of May, 1869, in his own private chapel, at London House, Dr. Jackson, Bishop of London, formally authorised eight laymen “to read prayers, and to read and explain the Holy Scriptures,” and “to conduct religious services for the poor in schools, and mission rooms, and in the open air,” in the London diocese, with the understanding and agreement that their labours will be rendered gratuitously.[432] Thus are even bishops treading in the once hated footsteps of the great Methodist.

In 1742, Wesley’s itinerating commenced in earnest. During the year, he spent about twenty-four weeks in London and its vicinity; fourteen in Bristol and the surrounding neighbourhood; one in Wales; and thirteen in making two tours to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, taking, on his way, Donnington Park, Birstal, Halifax, Dewsbury, Mirfield, Epworth, Sheffield, and other towns and villages adjoining these.

Whitefield spent the first two months in Bristol, Gloucester, and the west of England, and the three following in London. He then went to Scotland, where he continued until the end of October, when he returned to London for the remainder of the year.

Wesley and he were again friends. On April 23, Wesley writes: “I spent an agreeable hour with Mr. Whitefield. I believe he is sincere in all he says, concerning his earnest desire of joining hand in hand with all that love the Lord Jesus Christ. But if, as some would persuade me, he is not, the loss is all on his own side. I am just as I was. I go on my way, whether he goes with me or stays behind.”

This interview took place at Easter, a season of the year which Moorfields was wont to keep with uproarious hilarity. On this occasion, the spacious rendezvous was filled, from end to end, with mountebanks, players, drummers, trumpeters, merryandrews, and menageries. Whitefield mounted his field pulpit, and from twenty to thirty thousand people flocked around him. He became a target, at which were hurled dirt, dead cats, stones, and rotten eggs. A fool belonging to one of the puppetshows attempted to lash him with a whip; and a recruiting sergeant, with his drum and other musical instruments, marched through his congregation; but Whitefield, for three hours, continued praying, preaching, and singing; and then retired to the Tabernacle, with his pocket full of notes from persons who had been awakened by his sermon, and which were read amid the praises and acclamations of assembled crowds. A thousand such papers had been sent to him; and three hundred and fifty of the inquiring penitents were received into church fellowship in a single day.[433]

Wesley and Whitefield henceforth were divided, and yet united. Each pursued his own separate course; but their hearts were one. Their creeds were different; but not their aims. “Mr. Wesley,” writes Whitefield in 1742, “I think is wrong in some things; but I believe he will shine bright in glory. I have not given way to him, or to any, whom I thought in error, no not for an hour; but I think it best not to dispute, where there is no probability of convincing.”[434] And again, in a letter to Wesley himself, on October 11, 1742, he says: “I had your kind letter, dated October 5. In answer to the first part of it, I say, ‘Let old things pass away, and all things become new.’ I can also heartily say ‘Amen’ to the latter part of it—‘Let the king live for ever and controversy die,’ It has died with me long ago. I thank you, dear sir, for praying for me. I have been upon my knees praying for you and yours, and that nothing but love, lowliness, and simplicity may be among us!”[435]

To the day of his death, Whitefield breathed this loving spirit, and rejoiced to find reciprocal affection in his friend Wesley. After this, we shall refrain from adverting to his history more than we find needful,—not for want of admiration of his character and labours, but because it is impossible, in casual notices, to do him justice. He was still hounded as much as ever by the dogs of persecution. Though he was now in Scotland, where, if anywhere, his Calvinistic doctrines were likely to gain him favour, yet even there he met with virulent opposers. Among other extremely bitter pamphlets published against him, in 1742, was one printed at Edinburgh, “by a true lover of the Church and country,” who represented him as taking upon himself “the office of a thirteenth apostle,” and concluded his courteous outpouring thus: “Let all good people beware of this stroller, for he will yet find a way to wheedle you out of your money. He is as artful a mountebank as any I know.” Another pamphlet, entitled “The Declaration of the True Presbyterians, within the Kingdom of Scotland, concerning Mr. George Whitefield and the work at Cambuslang,” begun as follows:—“The declaration, protestation, and testimony of the suffering remnant of the anti-popish, anti-Lutheran, anti-prelatic, anti-Whitefieldian, anti-Erastian, anti-sectarian, true Presbyterian church of Christ in Scotland;” and then this windy performance, of thirty-two pages, proceeds to say that Whitefield is “an abjured, prelatic hireling, of as lax toleration principles as any that ever set up for the advancing the kingdom of Satan. He is a wandering star, who steers his course according to the compass of gain and advantage.” A third publication, issued in 1742, was, “A Warning against countenancing the ministrations of Mr. George Whitefield, wherein is shown that Mr. Whitefield is no minister of Jesus Christ; that his call and coming to Scotland are scandalous; that his practice is disorderly and fertile of disorder; and that his whole doctrine is, and his success must be, diabolical. By Adam Gib, minister of the gospel at Edinburgh.” In this sweet effusion of seventy-five pages, poor Whitefield is solemnly pronounced to be “one of those false Christs, of whom the church is forewarned, Matt. xxiv. 24.” After reviewing some of Whitefield’s tenets, Mr. Adam Gib deliciously remarks: “in raking through this dunghill of Mr. Whitefield’s doctrine, we have raised as much stink as will suffocate all his followers, that shall venture to draw near without stopping their noses.” “The complex scheme of his doctrine is diabolical; it proceeds through diabolical influence, and is applied unto a diabolical use, against the Mediator’s glory and the salvation of men.” This was pretty strong for a young man, twenty-nine years of age, and who, four years afterwards, became the leader of the party known by the name of Anti-burghers. We are prepared, by such pious venom, for the fact, that, in the year following, when the “associate presbytery met for renewing the national covenant of Scotland, and the solemn league and covenant of the three nations,” they drew up and printed “a confession of the sins of the ministry,” in which they humble themselves before God, for not “timeously” warning the people against Whitefield; for being “too remiss in their endeavours to prevent the sad effects of his ministrations;” for being “too little affected by the latitudinarian principles and awful delusions which he had propagated;” and for not “crying to God, that He would rebuke the devourer, and cast the false prophet and the unclean spirit out of the land.”[436]

Despite all this, Whitefield cheerily pursued the path marked out by Providence. Few men have been more entitled to the last beatitude in our Saviour’s sermon, “Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for My sake.”

It was through the timely interposition of Howel Harris, that the friendship between Wesley and Whitefield was resumed. Towards this warm-hearted Welshman Wesley cherished the most sincere affection, and, on the 6th of August, 1742, wrote to him as follows:—

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I have just read yours, dated at Trevecca, October 19, 1741. And what is it that we contend about? Allow such a perfection as you have there described, and all further dispute I account vain jangling and mere strife of words. As to the other point, we agree: (1) that no man can have any power except it be given him from above; (2) that no man can merit anything but hell, seeing all other merit is in the blood of the Lamb. For those two fundamental points, both you and I earnestly contend; what need, then, of this great gulf to be fixed between us? Brother, is thy heart with mine, as my heart is with thine? If it be, give me thy hand. I am indeed a poor, foolish, sinful worm; and how long my Lord will use me, I know not. I sometimes think the time is coming when He will lay me aside. For surely never before did He send such a labourer into such a harvest. But, so long as I am continued in the work, let us rise up together against the evil-doers; let us not weaken, but strengthen one another’s hands in God. My brother, my soul is gone forth to meet thee; let us fall upon one another’s neck. The good Lord blot out all that is past, and let there henceforward be peace between me and thee!

“I am, my dear brother, ever yours, “JOHN WESLEY.”[437]

Another of Wesley’s friends, at this period, was the Rev. Henry Piers, vicar of Bexley, a devoted man, who, through the instrumentality of Charles Wesley and Mr. Bray, had found peace with God on the 10th of June, 1738. He at once began to preach, with great fidelity, the scriptural method of salvation; and such was his success, that in August, 1739, Whitefield assisted him in administering the sacrament, in Bexley church, to nearly six hundred communicants. Keziah Wesley was an inmate of his house; and Wesley himself was a welcome visitor. He was one of the six persons who composed Wesley’s first Conference, in 1744; and one of the three who publicly walked with Wesley from the church of St. Mary’s, Oxford, when he preached, for the last time, before the university.

In 1742, the vicar of Bexley was appointed to preach at Sevenoaks, “before the right worshipful the Dean of the Arches, and the reverend the clergy of the deanery of Shoreham, assembled in visitation.” The text chosen by Mr. Piers was 1 Corinthians iv. 1, 2; and his object was to show what doctrines ministers ought to preach, and also what ought to be their tempers and behaviour. A letter to Wesley, written May 24, three days after the sermon was delivered, states that, at the beginning of his discourse, Piers was listened to with gravity; but, while dwelling upon the doctrines of the Church, his reverend auditors began to indulge in “shrewd looks and indignant smiles”; this was followed with “laughter and loud whispers,” some of them saying, “Piers is mad, crazy, and a fool.” When he came to the application of his discourse, and asked whether the clergy preached such doctrines, possessed such tempers, and led such lives, the ordinary would endure it no longer, but beckoned to the apparitor to open his pew door, and to the minister of Sevenoaks church to command Piers to stop. The minister made a sign to the preacher, but without effect. The ordinary then publicly desired Piers to pronounce the benediction, as the congregation had already heard quite enough. Piers, however, still went on; all the clergy, except one or two, walked out; and the preacher, without further interruption, finished his discourse to an attentive audience.[438]

The sermon, though written by Mr. Piers, was, previous to its being preached, revised by Wesley;[439] and, in September ensuing, was published, price sixpence,[440] with a list of the books sold by Wesley at the Foundery in Moorfields, inserted. The sermon, in point of fact, was a joint production of Wesley and his friend. Any one, comparing it with other sermons published by Mr. Piers, will perceive an unmistakable difference in style, and force of expression. The sermon was, to a great extent, Wesley’s; and, in this instance, Wesley was almost preaching by proxy.

Wesley longed for helpers; but, conscious that none would be useful unless converted, he was careful in accepting offers. Of his friend Piers he could have no doubt; but it was otherwise with respect to a clergyman from America, who called upon him at the beginning of the year, and “appeared full of good desires.” Wesley writes: “I cannot suddenly answer in this matter; I must first know what spirit he is of; for none can labour with us, unless he ‘count all things dung and dross, that he may win Christ.’” With Wesley, neither learning, nor talent, nor even orders, nor all combined, were sufficient to induce him to accept a helper, unless there was also piety. Purity in preachers is of more importance than either scholarship, or genius, or both united. The former is an essential, without which no man ought to preach; the latter are, at the best, but useful in helping a preacher to preach successfully.

In a certain sense, Methodist societies were begun in 1739; but it was not until 1742 that they were divided into classes. In January, 1739, the London society, which was really Moravian, and not Methodist, consisted of about sixty persons. Three months after that, Wesley went to Bristol, where “a few persons agreed to meet weekly, with the same intention as those in London”; and these were soon increased by “several little societies, which were already meeting in divers parts of the city,” amalgamating with them. About the same time similar societies were formed at Kingswood and at Bath.[441] These religious communities grew and multiplied. At the beginning of 1742, the London society alone, after repeated siftings, numbered about eleven hundred members.[442] Hitherto, Wesley and his brother had been their only pastors; but, on February 15, 1742, an accident led to a momentous alteration. Nearly three years before, Wesley had built his meeting-house in Bristol; but, notwithstanding the subscriptions and collections made at the time to defray the expense, a large debt was still unpaid. On the day mentioned, some of the principal members of the Bristol society met together to consult how their pecuniary obligations should be discharged. One of them stood up and said, “Let every member of the society give a penny a week, till the debt is paid.” Another answered, “Many of them are poor, and cannot afford to do it.” “Then,” said the former, “put eleven of the poorest with me; and if they can give anything, well; I will call on them weekly; and if they can give nothing, I will give for them as well as for myself. And each of you call on eleven of your neighbours weekly; receive what they give, and make up what is wanting.” “It was done,” writes Wesley; “and in a while, some of these informed me, they found such and such an one did not live as he ought. It struck me immediately, ‘This is the thing, the very thing, we have wanted so long.’”

What was the result? Wesley called together these weekly collectors of money to pay the debt on the Bristol chapel, and desired each, in addition to collecting money, to make particular inquiry into the behaviour of the members whom they visited. They did so. Many disorderly walkers were detected; and thus the society was purged of unworthy members.[443]

Within six weeks after this, on March 25, Wesley introduced the same plan in London; where he had long found it difficult to become acquainted with all the members personally. He requested “several earnest and sensible men to meet him,” to whom he explained his difficulty. They all agreed that, “to come to a sure, thorough knowledge of each member, there could be no better way than to divide the society into classes, like those at Bristol.” Wesley, at once, appointed, as leaders, “those in whom he could most confide”; and thus, after an existence of three years, the Methodist societies were divided into classes, in 1742. “This,” says Wesley, “was the origin of our classes, for which I can never sufficiently praise God; the unspeakable usefulness of the institution having ever since been more and more manifest.”[444]

At first, the leaders visited each member at his own house; but this was soon found to be inconvenient. It required more time than the leaders had to spare; and many members lived with masters, mistresses, or relations, where it was almost impossible for such visits to be made. Hence, before long, it was agreed, that each leader should meet his apportioned members all together, once a week, at a time and place most convenient for the whole. The leader began and ended each meeting with singing and prayer, and spent about an hour in conversing with those present, one by one.[445]

Thus class-meetings began. Wesley writes, “It can scarce be conceived what advantages have been reaped by this little prudential regulation. Many now experienced that Christian fellowship, of which they had not so much as an idea before. They began to bear one another’s burdens, and naturally to care for each other’s welfare. And as they had daily a more intimate acquaintance, so they had a more endeared affection for each other. Upon reflection, I could not but observe, this is the very thing which was from the beginning of Christianity. As soon as any Jews or heathen were so convinced of the truth, as to forsake sin, and seek the gospel of salvation, the first preachers immediately joined them together; took an account of their names; advised them to watch over each other; and met these κατηχουμενοι, catechumens, as they were then called, apart from the great congregation, that they might instruct, rebuke, exhort, and pray with them, and for them, according to their several necessities.”[446]

Such is Wesley’s own account of the origin of these weekly meetings. Some of the old members were, at first, extremely averse to this new arrangement, regarding it, not as a privilege, but rather a restraint. They objected, that there were no such meetings when they joined the society, and asked why such meetings should be instituted now. To this Wesley answered, that he regarded class-meetings not essential, nor of Divine institution, but merely prudential helps, which it was a pity the society had not been favoured with from the beginning. “We are always open to instruction,” says he to these complainants, “willing to be wiser every day than we were before, and to change whatever we can change for the better.”

Another objection was, “There is no scripture for classes.” Wesley replied, that there was no scripture against them; and that, in point of fact, there was much scripture for them, namely, texts which enjoined the substance of the thing, leaving indifferent circumstances to be determined by reason and experience.

The most plausible objection of all, however, was that which is often urged at the present day. Wesley writes: “They spoke far more plausibly who said, ‘The thing is well enough in itself; but the leaders have neither gifts nor graces for such an employment.’ I answer—(1) Yet such leaders as they are, it is plain God has blessed their labour. (2) If any of these is remarkably wanting in gifts or grace, he is soon taken notice of and removed. (3) If you know any such, tell it to me, not to others, and I will endeavour to exchange him for a better. (4) It may be hoped they will all be better than they are, both by experience and observation, and by the advices given them by the minister every Tuesday night, and the prayers (then in particular) offered up for them.”[447]

The appointment of these leaders was of vast importance; but it was not sufficient. Wesley continues: “As the society increased, I found it required still greater care to separate the precious from the vile. In order to this, I determined, at least once in every three months, to talk with every member myself, and to inquire at their own mouths, whether they grew in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. At these seasons, I likewise particularly inquire whether there be any misunderstanding or difference among them; that every hindrance of peace and brotherly love may be taken out of the way.”[448]

Nothing need be added to this full account of the origin of the class-meeting and the quarterly visitation of the Methodists. Wesley, from the beginning, “recognised the scriptural distinction between the church and the world. The men who possessed religion, and the men who possessed it not, were not for a moment confounded. They might be neighbours in locality, and friends in goodwill; but they were wide as the poles asunder in sentiment. The quick and the dead may be placed side by side; but no one can, for ever so short a period, mistake dead flesh for living fibre. The church and the churchyard are close by; but the worshippers in the one and the dwellers in the other are as unlike as two worlds can make them. The circle within the circle, the company of the converted, Wesley always distinguished from the mass of mankind, and made special provision for their edification in all his organisms.”[449]

After the formation of classes, the next event in point of importance, in the year 1742, was Wesley’s visit to the north of England. A combination of circumstances led to this.

John Nelson had been converted among the Methodists in London, and had returned to Birstal, in Yorkshire, where Benjamin Ingham had already founded a number of flourishing Moravian brotherhoods. Nelson began to preach in the towns of Yorkshire; his labours were greatly blessed; and many of the greatest profligates, blasphemers, drunkards, and sabbath-breakers were entirely changed. John had often invited Wesley to visit Yorkshire, and this was one of the reasons of his setting out.[450]

Another was, that the Countess of Huntingdon had earnestly urged him to proceed to Newcastle, and to employ his best efforts to improve the moral and religious condition of the colliers on the Tyne. The letter, containing this request, has not been published, but is in the possession of the Rev. James Everett.

The countess was now resident at Donnington Park, the favourite home of her noble husband, the Earl of Huntingdon, who, like herself, treated ministers of Christ with every mark of polite attention. His sisters, Lady Betty Hastings, and Lady Margaret, (who afterwards became the wife of Ingham,) had been converted through the instrumentality of the Methodists, and were now sincere and earnest Christians. Donnington became a sort of rallying place for Christian ministers and Christian people. Mr. Simpson and Mr. Graves, two converted clergymen, resided in the neighbourhood. David Taylor, one of the servants of the Earl of Huntingdon, had commenced preaching in the surrounding hamlets and villages, and had begun a work which resulted in the forming of the New Connexion of General Baptists. Miss Fanny Cooper, residing with the countess, and dying of consumption, was greatly beloved by Wesley, and wished to see him.[451] All these circumstances had to do with his setting out for the midland counties, for Yorkshire, and for Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

On the 9th of January, Lady Huntingdon wrote to him, saying, that Miss Cooper was waiting for the consolation of Israel with an indescribable firmness of faith and hope. She had read his Journal, which he had sent for her perusal, and thought there was nothing in it which ought to be left out; and that the manner in which he spoke of himself could not be mended.[452]

In another letter, dated the 15th of March, she tells him that she is sure he is a chosen vessel set for the defence of the gospel; that she has given up the school at Markfield; that John Taylor is gone to be an assistant to David Taylor, and to become a schoolmaster among the people who had been converted; and that Mr. Graves had been blessed by Wesley’s conversation, and greatly loved him.[453]

In a third letter, dated ten days later, Wesley is informed that John Taylor is about to wait upon him, and to say that, unless David Taylor (who had contracted an ill judged marriage, and fallen into the German stillness) transferred his flock to Wesley and his brother Charles, the countess would withdraw from him her support and countenance. She adds: “I would not trust David with the guidance of my soul, no, not for worlds. I find he is going to build himself a room, and to break with the ministers, and become a lay preacher. He has more pride than I ever saw in man. If he will commit his poor sheep into your hands, I will assist in the room, school, etc.; but else will I do nothing. You are much mistaken about the bishops not reading what you publish; I know they do. Let me know in your next if you approve what I have done about David.”[454]

Six weeks afterwards, Lady Huntingdon wrote again, saying that Miss Cooper was at the point of death, and wished to see Wesley; and that a horse had been ordered for John Taylor to go down with him.[455] On receiving this, Wesley started almost immediately. He reached Donnington Park on May 22; found Miss Cooper just alive; spent three days with her and the countess, rejoicing in the grace of God; and then set out for Birstal, still accompanied by John Taylor.[456] On arriving at Birstal, Wesley went to an inn and sent for John Nelson; and John came and carried him to his own humble home. Thus was the aristocratic mansion exchanged for the mason’s cottage. Numbers had been converted by John’s plain, blunt preaching; but, because he advised them to go to church and sacrament, Ingham reproved him, and forbade the members of his societies to hear him.

Ingham, to some extent at least, had fallen into the dangerous delusions of the Moravians. He had also exposed himself to suspicions of another kind. Dr. Doddridge, in a letter written a fortnight before Wesley’s visit to Birstal, says: “I am much surprised with a book, called the ‘Country Parson’s Advice to a Parishioner,’ which is circulated, with extreme diligence, by Ingham, and other Methodists in our part of the country. It artfully disguises, but most evidently contains and recommends, almost all the doctrines of popery, and none more than that fatal one of consigning conscience and fortune into the hands of the priesthood.[457] I am not hasty to smell out a Jesuit, and ever thought the Methodists had more honesty than wisdom; but this certain fact surprises me, and I should be glad of a key to it. It may be said, that they have generally appeared men of plain understandings, void of that art and learning necessary for missionaries; but all plots require tools, and have underparts, nor may these always be let into the whole design. On the whole, while they are diffusing such sentiments, Protestantism and our free constitution may have as little reason to thank them as learning and reason have already.”[458]

Wesley preached, on May 26, at noon, on the top of Birstal hill; spent the afternoon in conversing with Nelson’s converts; and, at eight at night, preached on Dewsbury moor, two miles from Birstal, and, in opposition to the Moravian tenets, “earnestly exhorted all who believed, to wait upon God in His ways, and to let their light shine before men.”

His labours were not without success. One of his hearers was Nathaniel Harrison, a young man twenty-three years of age, who soon after was made circuit steward, an office which he filled for more than twenty years, and during a long life encountered no small amount of brutal persecution for the sake of his great Master. His father turned him out of doors; his eldest brother horsewhipped him; and the mob hurled missiles at his head, and, on one occasion, were literally bespattered with his blood. Nathaniel Harrison was a happy Christian, and attained to the age of eighty years before he died; he was wont to say, “My soul is always on the wing, I only wait the summons.”[459]

Another of Wesley’s hearers was John Murgatroyd, a weaver, who became a member of the second class which was formed in Yorkshire; was present when John Nelson was pressed for a soldier; and was one of those brave-hearted Methodists who sang songs of praise at the door of Nelson’s prison. He lived to have ten children, fifty-one grandchildren, and twenty-one great grandchildren; and, after being sixty-three years a Methodist, he peacefully breathed his last breath at Wansford, in the east of Yorkshire, having, on the day before, attended three public services, and sung the praises of his Saviour with an animation which seemed to evince that he was exulting in the hope of singing the new song in heaven.[460]

Leaving Birstal, Wesley and John Taylor came to Newcastle on Friday, May 28.

This northern metropolis was then widely different to what it is at present. Then the only streets, of any consequence, were Pilgrim Street, Newgate Street, Westgate Street, the Side, and Sandgate. On the south of Westgate Street there was nothing but open country. Between Westgate Street and Newgate Street, the only buildings were the vicarage and St. John’s church; whilst between Newgate Street and the upper part of Pilgrim Street almost the only edifice was the house of the Franciscan Friars. On the east of Pilgrim Street were open fields, and on the north nothing but a few straggling houses. The town was surrounded with a wall, having turrets, towers, and gates. On what is now the centre of the town, stood the princely dwelling of Sir William Blackett, environed with extensive pleasure grounds, adorned with trees and statues. There were five churches: St. John’s, in which, besides the Sunday services, there were public prayers three times every week; St. Andrew’s, where, in addition to services on sabbaths, prayers were read every Wednesday and Friday morning; Allhallows; St. Nicholas’s, in which there was public service twice daily; and the church of St. Thomas, at the entrance of the street on Newcastle bridge. The Roman Catholics had a chapel at the Nuns; the Quakers a meeting-house in Pilgrim Street, nearly opposite to the Pilgrim’s Inn; and the Dissenters two or three chapels in different parts, and also a burial ground near Ballast Hills.[461]

As already stated, Wesley reached Newcastle on Friday night, the 28th of May. The public house, in which he lodged, belonged to a Mr. Gun, and stood a few yards northward of the site on which he built his Orphan House. This, at the time, was open country, and about a mile from busy, dirty, degraded Sandgate on the river side. On walking out, after tea, he was surprised and shocked at the abounding wickedness. Drunkenness and swearing seemed general, and even the mouths of little children were full of curses. How he spent the Saturday we are not informed; but, on Sunday morning, at seven,[462] he and John Taylor took their stand, near the pump, in Sandgate, “the poorest and most contemptible part of the town,” and began to sing the old hundredth psalm and tune. Three or four people came about them, “to see what was the matter;” these soon increased in number, and, before Wesley finished preaching, his congregation consisted of from twelve to fifteen hundred persons. When the service was ended, the people still “stood gaping, with the most profound astonishment,” upon which Wesley said: “If you desire to know who I am, my name is John Wesley. At five in the evening, with God’s help, I design to preach here again.”

Such was the commencement of Methodism in the north of England,—the preacher the renowned John Wesley, doubtless dressed in full canonicals, with plain John Taylor standing at his side,—the time seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, in the beautiful month of May,—the place Sandgate, crowded with keelmen and sailors, using, says Christopher Hopper, “the language of hell, as though they had received a liberal education in the regions of woe,”[463]—the song of praise the old hundredth psalm, which, like the grand old ocean, is as fresh and as full of music now as it was when it first was written,—and the text, the very pith of gospel truth, “He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed.”

Strict churchman as he was, there can be but little doubt, that Wesley and his companion attended the morning and afternoon services in some of the Newcastle churches; but at five o’clock, amid balmy breezes, he again took his stand on the hill, by the side of the Keelman’s Hospital. On one hand was the town with the fine old wall, fortified with towers; on the other hand were fields, stretching away to Ouseburn and Byker; behind him was the open country, dotted here and there with fragrant gardens, Jesus’s Hospital, the workhouse, the charity school of Allhallows church, and Pandon Hall, formerly the residence of the Northumbrian kings; while just before him were the swarming hordes of Sandgate, the crowded quay, and the river Tyne. The hill was covered from its summit to its base. In Moorfields and on Kennington Common, he had preached to congregations numbering from ten to twenty thousand people; but his congregation here was the largest he had ever seen. “After preaching,” he writes, “the poor people were ready to tread me under foot, out of pure love and kindness.” With difficulty, he reached his inn, where he found several of his hearers waiting his arrival. They told him they were members of a religious society, which had existed for many years, had a “fine library,” and whose “steward read a sermon every Sunday.” They urged him to remain with them, at least, a few days longer; but, having promised to be at Birstal on Tuesday night, he was unable to consent. Accordingly, rising even before the sun on Monday morning, he set out at three o’clock, rode about eighty miles, and lodged at night at Boroughbridge. The next day, he came to Birstal, holding a prayer-meeting at Knaresborough on the way; and at night, surrounded by a vast multitude, conducted a religious service of two hours and a half duration. In Birstal and its neighbourhood, he spent the next three days, preaching at Mrs. Holmes’s, near Halifax, at Dewsbury Moor, at Mirfield, and at Adwalton.

He then set out for Epworth, and went to an inn, where an old servant of his father’s and two or three poor women found him. The next day being Sunday, he offered to assist Mr. Romley, the curate, either by preaching or reading prayers; but his offer was declined, and a sermon was offensively preached by Romley against enthusiasts. After the service, John Taylor gave notice, as the people were coming out, that Mr. Wesley, not being permitted to preach in the church, designed to preach in the churchyard, at six o’clock. Accordingly, at that hour, he stood on his father’s tombstone, and preached to the largest congregation Epworth had ever witnessed. The scene was unique and inspiriting,—a living son preaching on a dead father’s grave, because the parish priest refused to allow him to officiate in a dead father’s church. “I am well assured,” writes Wesley, “that I did far more good to my Lincolnshire parishioners by preaching three days on my father’s tomb, than I did by preaching three years in his pulpit.”[464]

Contrary to his intention, he remained eight days at Epworth, and every night used his father’s tombstone as his rostrum. He also preached at Burnham, Ouston, Belton, Overthorp, and Haxey. Here religious societies had been formed; but two men, John Harrison and Richard Ridley, had poisoned them with the Moravian heresy, telling them that “all the ordinances are man’s inventions, and that if they went to church or sacrament, they would be damned.” One of them, at Belton, who once ran well, now said “he saw the devil in every corner of the church, and in the face of every one who went to it.” Still, a great work had been wrought among them, and some of them had suffered for it. “Their angry neighbours,” says Wesley, “had carried a whole wagon-load of these new heretics before a magistrate. But when he asked what they had done, there was a deep silence, for that was a point their conductors had forgotten. At length, one said ‘they pretended to be better than other people, and prayed from morning to night;’ and another said, ‘they have convarted my wife. Till she went among them she had such a tongue! and now she is as quiet as a lamb!’ ‘Take them back, take them back,’ replied the justice, ‘and let them convert all the scolds in the town.’”

As already intimated, Wesley’s preaching on his father’s grave was attended with amazing power. On one occasion, the people on every side wept aloud; and on another, several dropped down as dead; Wesley’s voice was drowned by the cries of penitents; and many there and then, in the old churchyard, found peace with God, and broke out into loud thanksgiving. A gentleman, who had not been at public worship of any kind for upwards of thirty years, stood motionless as a statue. “Sir,” asked Wesley, “are you a sinner?” “Sinner enough!” said he, and still stood staring upwards, till his wife and servant, who were both in tears, put him into his chaise, and took him home.

John Whitelamb, Wesley’s brother-in-law, clergyman at Wroote, heard him preach at Epworth, and wrote him, saying, “Your presence creates an awe, as if you were an inhabitant of another world. I cannot think as you do; but I retain the highest veneration and affection for you. The sight of you moves me strangely. My heart overflows with gratitude. I cannot refrain from tears, when I reflect, this is the man, who at Oxford was more than a father to me; this is he, whom I have there heard expound, or dispute publicly, or preach at St. Mary’s, with such applause. I am quite forgotten. None of the family ever honour me with a line! Have I been ungrateful? I have been passionate, fickle, a fool; but I hope I shall never be ungrateful.”[465]

On receiving this, Wesley hastened to visit his old friend; preached, on his way, at Haxey; then again in Whitelamb’s church; and again, at night, on his father’s tomb, to an immense multitude, the last service lasting for about three hours. He writes, “We scarce knew how to part. Oh, let none think his labour of love is lost because the fruit does not immediately appear! Near forty years did my father labour here; but he saw little fruit of all his labour. I took some pains among this people too; and my strength also seemed spent in vain: but now the fruit appeared. There were scarce any in the town on whom either my father or I had taken any pains formerly, but the seed, sown so long since, now sprung up, bringing forth repentance and remission of sins.”

Thus, despite Mr. Romley’s railing at the enthusiast, his churchyard became the scene of some of Wesley’s greatest triumphs. John Whitelamb, writing to Charles Wesley, says: “I had the honour and happiness of seeing and conversing with my brother John. He behaved to me truly like himself. I found in him, what I have always experienced heretofore, the gentleman, the friend, the brother, and the Christian.”[466]

Wesley’s visit to Epworth was a memorable one; and it is not surprising that artists have vied with each other in portraying it. Thousands of Methodist homes have pictures of Wesley preaching on his father’s tomb; and the scene itself, throughout all time, will be regarded as one of the most striking incidents in Wesley’s history. Here, at Epworth, Wesley’s venerable father had toiled, with exemplary diligence and fidelity, for the long space of nine-and-thirty years; a man who, for strength of mind and godly earnestness, had few superiors; and yet, a man whose life was a perpetual worry of poverty and persecution. Here, Wesley’s almost unequalled mother, during the whole of that period, had been the sharer of her husband’s joys and sorrows. Here had been nurtured a family, who, for genius, talent, and romantic history, must always stand high among the remarkable households of mankind. The family was now scattered. Seven years had elapsed since the father’s death. Samuel, the eldest, and Keziah, the youngest of the children, (that survived the days of infancy,) had since expired. And what about the widowed mother? We shall soon see.

Wesley left Epworth on the 14th of June; and, after preaching for four days in Sheffield and the neighbourhood, he hastened to the Countess of Huntingdon’s, and thence, by way of Coventry, Evesham, and Stroud, to the city of Bristol, which he reached on June 28.

Within a month after this, his venerable mother exchanged earth for heaven. Hearing of her illness, he hastened from Bristol to London to see her. Charles was absent, but her five daughters were with her. Wesley writes: “I found my mother on the borders of eternity; but she had no doubt or fear; nor any desire but to depart and to be with Christ.” She died of gout,[467] on Friday, July 23. Early in the morning, on awaking out of sleep, she cried, “My dear Saviour! Art Thou come to help me at my last extremity?” In the afternoon, as soon as the intercession meeting at the Foundery was ended, Wesley went to her, and found her pulse almost gone, and her fingers dead. Her look was calm, and her eyes were fixed upward. Wesley used the commendatory prayer, and, with his sisters, sang a requiem to her parting soul. She was perfectly sensible, but gasping for life. Within an hour, she died without a struggle, groan, or sigh; and Wesley and his sisters stood round her bed, and fulfilled her last request, uttered a little before she lost her speech: “Children, as soon as I am released, sing a psalm of praise to God.” The remains of this sainted lady were interred on Sunday, August 1, in Bunhill-fields. An immense multitude was present; Wesley performed the service; and then preached from Revelation xx. 12, 13. “It was,” says he, “one of the most solemn assemblies I ever saw, or expect to see on this side eternity.”[468]

Wesley spent the next three months in London and in Bristol, and in journeying to and fro; his brother Charles labouring, at the same time, at Newcastle and in the north.

On the 18th of August, he met his brother and Charles Caspar Graves in Bristol. Mr. Graves had been a student of St. Mary Magdalen College, Oxford, and was one of the Oxford Methodists. Two years after the Wesleys left for Georgia, the friends of Graves believed him to be “stark mad,” and removed him from his college. He found peace with God in 1738, and became an exceedingly zealous out-door preacher; but, in 1740, he was persuaded, and almost coerced, to sign a paper to the effect, that he now renounced the principles and practice of the Methodists; that he was heartily sorry he had occasioned scandal by attending their meetings; and that, in future, he should avoid doing so.

For nearly two years, he acted accordingly; but, on meeting the Wesleys in Bristol at the time above mentioned, he wrote to the fellows of St. Mary Magdalen College, revoking the document he had been led to sign, and declaring that he now looked upon himself “to be under no kind of obligation to observe anything contained in that scandalous paper, so unchristianly imposed upon him.”

Immediately after this, Charles Wesley and Mr. Graves set off for the north of England. Having spent a few days with John Nelson and his Methodist friends at Birstal, they proceeded to Newcastle. Mr. Graves returned to Birstal in about a fortnight; but Charles Wesley continued among the colliers of the Tyne, formed the Newcastle society, and did not return to London until his brother was ready to take his place in the month of November following.[469]

On his arrival, November 13, Wesley met, what he calls, “the wild, staring, loving society;” he took them with him to the sacrament at Allhallows church; he reproved some among them who walked disorderly; and ascertained that few were thoroughly convinced of sin, and scarcely any could witness that their sins were pardoned. Great power, however, began to attend his preaching. On one occasion, six or seven dropped down as dead; and, at another time, several of the genteel people were constrained to roar aloud for the disquietness of their hearts.

He extended his labours to the surrounding villages. At Whickham he “spoke strong, rough words;” but none of the people seemed to regard his sayings. At Tanfield Leigh, he preached “to a dead, senseless, unaffected congregation.” At Horsley, notwithstanding a bitter frost, he preached in the open air, the wind driving upon the congregation, and scattering straw and thatch among them in all directions.

In Newcastle, though the season was winter, he preached out of doors as often as he could; and, at other times, in a room, in a narrow lane, now Lisle Street, nearly opposite the site of Wesley’s Orphan House. This “room,” or “tabernacle” (as it was also called) had been built “by a fanatic of the name of Macdonald,” who had now removed to Manchester.[470] It was the first Methodist meeting-house in the north of England.

The work accomplished was marvellous. It was only eight months since Wesley entered Newcastle as a perfect stranger; and, yet, there were now above eight hundred persons joined together in his society, besides many others in the surrounding towns and villages who had been benefited by his ministry. He writes: “I never saw a work of God, in any other place, so evenly and gradually carried on. It continually rose step by step. Not so much seemed to be done at any one time, as had frequently been done at Bristol or London; but something at every time.”[471]

Among these northern converts, there were not a few, who subsequently rendered important service to the cause of Christ; brave spirits who deserve a niche in Methodistic history, but whom, for the present, we are reluctantly obliged to pass in silence.

Such a society being formed, a place for meeting became imperative. Several sites were offered; one outside the gate of Pilgrim Street was bought; and, on December 20, the foundation stone was laid; after which Wesley preached, but, three or four times during the sermon, was obliged to stop, that the people might engage in prayer and give thanks to God. The building was calculated to cost £700; Wesley had just twenty-six shillings towards this expenditure;[472] many thought it would never be completed; but Wesley writes: “I was of another mind; nothing doubting but, as it was begun for God’s sake, He would provide what was needful for the finishing it.”

This “clumsy, ponderous pile,” as John Hampson calls it, was then the largest Methodist meeting-house in England. “Clumsy and ponderous” we grant it was, but still a “pile” hallowed by associations far too sacred to be easily forgotten. Here one of the first Sunday-schools in the kingdom was established, and had not fewer than a thousand children in attendance. Here a Bible society existed before the British and Foreign Bible Society was formed. Here was one of the best choirs in England; and here, among the singers, were the sons of Mr. Scott, afterwards the celebrated Lords Eldon and Stowell.[473] Here was the resting place of John Wesley’s first itinerants; and here colliers and keelmen, from all parts of the surrounding country, would assemble, and, after the evening service, would throw themselves upon the benches, and sleep the few remaining hours till Wesley preached at five next morning.[474] The “clumsy, ponderous” old Orphan House was the head quarters of Methodism in the north of England.

Within the last four years Wesley had built “the room” at Bristol, and the school at Kingswood; and he had bought, and repaired, and almost rebuilt “that vast, uncouth heap of ruins,” called “the Foundery.” He began in Bristol without funds, but money had been furnished as he needed it; and now, with £1 6_s._, he begun to erect a building to cost £700. Three months after laying the foundation stone, in the inclement month of March, while the building was yet without roof, doors, or windows, Wesley opened it by preaching from the narrative of the rich man and Lazarus; and, afterwards, amid bricks, mortar, and a builder’s usual débris, held a watchnight, the light of a full moon probably being the only illumination the damp, cold, unfinished building had, and equinoctial gales and winter winds wafting the watchnight hymns of these happy Methodists to a higher and holier world than this. Truly the cradle in which Methodism was rocked by the hand of Providence was often rough.

Having begun the building, it was high time for Wesley to begin to find means to pay for it. Accordingly, he arranged to leave his Newcastle friends on the last day of 1742. He preached his farewell sermon—a sermon of two hours’ continuance—in the open air; men, women, and children hung upon him, and were unwilling to part with him; and, even after he had mounted his horse and started on his journey, “a muckle woman” kept her hold of him, and ran by his horse’s side, through thick and thin, till the town was fairly left behind him.

We thus find Methodism firmly rooted in Bristol, Kingswood, London, and Newcastle; and, besides this, Wesley writes: “In this year many other societies were formed in Somersetshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, Leicestershire, Warwickshire, and Nottinghamshire, as well as the southern parts of Yorkshire.”[475]

Not only were churches on earth multiplied, but additions were made to the church in heaven. Mr. Dolman, who rarely failed to be at the Foundery by five o’clock, died full of love, and peace, and joy in believing. James Angel gave up his spirit to God in the full triumph of faith. Mary Whittle cried out: “It is done, it is done! Christ lives in me;” and died in a moment. Another female member of the London society expired with the words, “I fear not death; it hath no sting for me. I shall live for evermore.” Sarah Whiskin cried out, “My Lord and my God!” fetched a double sigh, and died. John Woolley, a child of thirteen years, threw his arms wide open, and said, “Come, come, Lord Jesus! I am Thine;” and soon after breathed his last. And Lucy Godshall died basking in the light of her Saviour’s countenance. All these belonged to the London society.

The purest gold is sometimes mixed with dross; and so it was with Methodism. Some of the Foundery society fanatically talked of feeling the blood of Christ running upon their arms, their breasts, their hearts, and down their throats. Wesley met them, and denounced their folly as the empty dreams of heated imaginations. Good John Brown, of Tanfield Leigh, two or three days after his conversion, came riding through Newcastle, hallooing and shouting, and driving all the people before him; telling them that God had revealed to him that he should be a king, and should tread all his enemies beneath his feet. Wesley arrested him, and sent him home immediately, advising him to cry day and night to God, lest the devil should gain an advantage over him. These were rare exceptions, and were promptly checked.

Two, who called themselves prophets, came to Wesley in London, stating, that they were sent from God to say, he would shortly be born’d again; and that, unless he turned them out, they would stay in the house till it was done. He gravely answered, that he would not turn them out, and took them down into the room of the society. Here he left them. “It was tolerably cold,” says he, “and they had neither meat nor drink. However, there they sat from morning to evening, when they quietly went away, and I have heard nothing from them since.”

In 1742, persecution by means of the public press had, to some extent, abated;[476] but mobs and vulgar-minded men were as violent as ever. At Long Lane, in London, they threw large stones upon the house in which Wesley was preaching, which, with the tiles, fell among the people, endangering their lives. At Chelsea, burning substances were cast into the room till it was filled with smoke. At Pensford, near Bristol, a hired rabble brought a bull, which they had been baiting, and tried to drive it among the people; and then, forcing their way to the little table on which Wesley stood, they “tore it bit from bit,” with fiendish vengeance. A similar outrage was perpetrated in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel. The mob did their utmost to force a herd of cattle among the congregation; and then threw showers of stones, one of which struck Wesley between the eyes; but, wiping away the blood, he continued the service as if nought had happened. At Cardiff, while Charles Wesley was preaching, women were kicked, and their clothes set on fire by rockets, thrown into the room among them; the desk in which the preacher stood was dashed to pieces, and the Bible wrested from his hands, one of the brutal persecutors solemnly declaring that, if he went straight to hell for doing it, he would persecute the Methodists to his dying day.[477]

In the midst of such violence, Wesley calmly pursued the path of duty, praying, preaching, visiting the sick and dying, forming societies, building chapels, reading, writing, and publishing.

During the year, he read Dr. Pitcairn’s works,—“dry, sour, and controversial;” Jacob Behmen’s Exposition of Genesis, the “most sublime nonsense, inimitable bombast, fustian not to be paralleled, all of a piece with his inspired interpretation of the word tetragrammaton; Madame Guyon’s “Short Method of Prayer,” and “Les Torrents Spirituelles,” from which “poor quietist” the Moravians had taken many of their unscriptural expressions; “The Life of Ignatius Loyola,” “a surprising book,” concerning “one of the greatest men that ever engaged in supporting so bad a cause;” and “The Life of Gregory Lopez,” “a good and wise, though much mistaken man.”

Wesley’s publications, during 1742, were the following:—

1. “A Companion for the Altar. Extracted from Thomas à Kempis.” 12mo, 24 pages.

2. “An Extract of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’s Journal, from August 12, 1738, to November 1, 1739.” 12mo, 98 pages.

3. “A Treatise on Christian Prudence. Extracted from Mr. Norris.”[478] 12mo, 35 pages.

4. “A Collection of Hymns, translated from the German;” 36 pages. These were twenty-four in number, and had previously been published in his “Hymns and Sacred Poems.”

5. “A Narrative of the Work of God, at and near Northampton in New England. Extracted from Mr. Edwards’s Letter to Dr. Coleman.” 12mo, 48 pages.

6. “A Collection of Tunes set to Music, as they are commonly sung at the Foundery.” Duodecimo, of thirty-six pages, containing forty-three tunes for one voice only, some set in the treble and some in the tenor clef.[479]

Great revivals of religion have generally been attended by copious productions of hymns of praise; and thus it was at the rise of Methodism. This was emphatically the great era of hymn writing in the English church. Watts, Doddridge, and Erskine poured forth the joys of their converted hearts, and furnished lyric lines, which have been used, in sacred worship, by millions. But of all the hymnists then living, the Wesleys were the most remarkable. A competent authority has estimated that, during Wesley’s lifetime there were published not fewer than six thousand six hundred hymns from the pen of Charles Wesley only.[480] Having furnished their societies with so many hymns, no wonder that the Wesleys collected and furnished tunes. Their religion made them happy; and happiness always finds vent in song. The old Methodists were remarkable for their singing. Why? Because their hearts throbbed with the “joy unspeakable and full of glory.” Make a man happy, and he is sure to sing. Thus it was with Wesley and the thousands who looked to him as their great leader. Naturally, the Wesleys were full of poetry; and religion, so far from extinguishing the fire, fanned it into a holy flame. Their taste in music may be gathered from Wesley’s directions to his preachers. “Suit the tune to the words. Avoid complex tunes, which it is scarcely possible to sing with devotion. Repeating the same words so often, especially while another repeats different words, shocks all common sense, necessarily brings in dead formality, and has no more religion in it than a Lancashire hornpipe. Sing no anthems. Do not suffer the people to sing too slow. In every society, let them learn to sing; and let them always learn our own tunes first. Let the women constantly sing their parts alone. Let no man sing with them, unless he understands the notes, and sings the bass, as it is pricked down in the book. Introduce no new tunes till they are perfect in the old. Let no organ be placed anywhere, till proposed in the Conference. Recommend our tune-book everywhere; and if you cannot sing yourself, choose a person or two in each place to pitch the tune for you. Exhort every one in the congregation to sing, not one in ten only.”[481]

Well would it be if Methodist ministers were to enforce such rules as these, instead of leaving the most beautiful part of public worship, as is too often done, to the irreligious whims and criminal caprice of organists and choirs. No one can doubt the fact that, within the last forty years, the singing in Methodist chapels has deteriorated to an extent which ought to be alarming. The tunes now too generally sung are intolerably insipid; and, as to any sympathy between them and the inspiriting hymns of Charles Wesley, it would be preposterous to say that a particle of such sympathy exists. Such singing may suit the classic taste of fashionable congregations assembled amid the chilling influence of gothic decorations; but it bears no resemblance whatever to the general outbursts of heartfelt praise, adoration, and thanksgiving, which characterised the old Methodists. It is high time for Methodist preachers to keep John Wesley’s rules respecting singing; to substitute John Wesley’s tunes and others like them for the soulless sounds now called classic music; and to feel that, before God and man, they are as much responsible for the singing in sanctuaries as they are for that part of public worship which consists of prayer.

7. Wesley’s last publication, in 1742, was “The Principles of a Methodist,” 12mo, 32 pages. This was written in reply to a pamphlet of the Rev. Josiah Tucker, who had tried to show that the Methodists, in the first instance, had been the disciples of William Law the mystic, and then of the Moravians; and, that now their principles were a perfect “medley of Calvinism, Arminianism, Quakerism, Quietism, and Montanism, all thrown together.”[482]

In reply to the charge of believing inconsistencies, Wesley remarks:—1. That Mr. Law’s system of truth had never been the creed of the Methodists. He himself was eight years at Oxford before he read any of Mr. Law’s writings; and when he did read them, so far from making them his creed, he had objections to almost every page. 2. That the Germans, with whom he travelled to Georgia, infused into him no ideas about justification, or anything else; for he came back with the same notions he had when he went; but Peter Bohler’s affirmation that true faith in Christ is always attended with “dominion over sin, and constant peace from a sense of forgiveness,” and that “justification was an instantaneous work,”—led him to make anxious inquiry, which resulted in his conviction, that Bohler’s doctrine was true, and that, notwithstanding all his past good performances, he himself was still without true faith in Christ. 3. He repudiates the inconsistent creed which Mr. Tucker puts into his mouth, and concludes as follows:—“I may say many things which have been said before, and perhaps by Calvin or Arminius, by Montanus or Barclay, or the Archbishop of Cambray; but it cannot thence be inferred that I hold a ‘medley of all their principles,—Calvinism, Arminianism, Montanism, Quakerism, Quietism, all thrown together,’ There might as well have been added Judaism, Mahommedanism, Paganism. It would have made the period rounder, and been full as easily proved, I mean asserted; for no other proof is yet produced.”

This was Wesley’s first battle. In his “address to the reader,” he remarks:—

“I have often wrote on controverted points before; but not with an eye to any particular person. So that this is the first time I have appeared in controversy, properly so called. Indeed I have not wanted occasion to do it before; particularly when, after many stabs in the dark, I was publicly attacked, not by an open enemy, but by my own familiar friend.” [Whitefield.] “But I could not answer him. I could only cover my face and say, Και συ εις εκεινων; και συ, τεκνον; ‘Art thou also among them? art thou, my son?’

“I now tread an untried path, ‘with fear and trembling’; fear, not of my adversary, but of myself. I fear my own spirit, lest I ‘fall where many mightier have been slain.’ Every disputant seems to think (as every soldier) that he may hit his opponent as much as he can; nay, that he ought to do his worst to him, or he cannot make the best of his own cause.”

Wesley then denounces this mode of conducting controversy, and declares that he wishes to treat Mr. Tucker and all opponents as he would treat his own brother. In such a spirit, Wesley began his long continued, perhaps unparalleled, controversial life.[483]

1743.

[Sidenote: 1743 Age 40]

During the year 1743, Wesley spent about fourteen weeks in London, ten in Bristol and its vicinity, thirteen in Newcastle and the neighbourhood, three in Cornwall, and twelve in travelling chiefly to the north of England. He was now a thorough itinerant; and itinerating in England then was widely different from what it is at present. Turnpike roads did not exist; and no stage coach went farther north than the town of York.[484] Wesley travelled on horseback, reading as he rode, and usually having one of his preachers with him. In a life like this, there was much of both hardship and incident. For instance, on New Year’s day, between Doncaster and Epworth, he met a man so drunk that he could hardly keep his seat, but who, on discovering that Wesley was his fellow traveller, cried out, “I am a Christian! I am a Churchman! I am none of your Culamites!” And then, as if afraid that Wesley might turn out to be the devil, away he went, as fast as his horse could carry him. Twelve days after, on reaching Stratford upon Avon, Wesley was requested to visit a woman of middle age, who, with a distorted face, and a lolling tongue, had bellowed so horribly, in the presence of the parish minister, that he pronounced her possessed with demons. Wesley went, but, staring at her visitor, she said nothing ailed her. After singing a verse or two, Wesley and his friends began to pray. Just as he commenced, he felt as if he “had been plunged into cold water,” and immediately there was a tremendous roar. The woman was reared up in bed, her whole body moving, without bending either joint or limb. Then it writhed into all kinds of postures, the poor wretch still bellowing. Wesley, however, continued praying, until all demoniacal symptoms ceased, and the woman began rejoicing and praising God. On another occasion, in the month of April, while baiting his horse at Sandhutton, he found sitting, in the chimney corner of the public house, a good natured man, who was enjoying his grog with the greatest gusto. Wesley began to talk to him about sacred things, having no suspicion that he was talking to the parish priest. And yet so it was; but the reverend tippler, instead of boiling over with offence, begged his reprover to call upon him when he next visited his village. In July, when he and John Downes reached Darlington, from Newcastle, both their horses lay down and died; and, in August, when he was leaving London for Bristol, his saddle slipped upon his horse’s neck; he was jerked over the horse’s head; and the horse itself ran back to Smithfield. Six days later, being in Exeter, he went to church both morning and afternoon, and writes: “the sermon in the morning was quite innocent of meaning; what that in the afternoon was, I know not; for I could not hear a single sentence.” In October, when he was leaving Epworth, he had to cross the Trent in a ferry boat; a terrible storm was raging; and the cargo consisted of three horses and eight men and women. In the midst of the river, the side of the boat was under water, and the horses and men rolling one over another, while Wesley was laid in the bottom, pinned down with a large iron bar, and utterly unable to help himself. Presently, however, the horses jumped into the water, and the boat was lightened, and came safe to land. Such were some of the incidents Wesley met with in 1743.

One of the first events in this memorable year was the organisation of the Calvinistic Methodists in Wales. At a meeting held at Watford (near Cardiff), on January 5 and 6, and at which there were present four clergymen—Whitefield, Rowlands, Powell, and Williams, and three laymen—Howel Harris, Joseph Humphreys, and John Cennick, it was agreed that “public exhorters” should be employed, and that each “public exhorter,” with the assistance of “private exhorters,” should take the oversight of twelve or fourteen societies. Each “private exhorter” was to inspect only one or two societies, and was to follow his ordinary calling. Howel Harris was to be a general travelling superintendent; and the clergymen were to itinerate as much as they were able. Each society was to have a box, under the care of stewards, to receive weekly contributions towards the support of the general work; and the clergymen and exhorters were to meet in conference once, or oftener, every year.[485] Thus Whitefield, Harris, Humphreys, and Cennick began to organise their societies before the Wesleys did.

After an absence of seven weeks, Wesley returned to Newcastle, on the 19th of February, and at once set to work to purge the society of unworthy members. Since he left, on December 30, seventy-six had forsaken the society; and sixty-four were now expelled, about eight hundred still remaining. Of those who had voluntarily withdrawn themselves, a large proportion were Dissenters, who left, because otherwise their ministers refused to them the sacrament; thirty-three because their husbands, wives, parents, masters, or acquaintance objected; five because such bad things were said of the society; nine because they would not be laughed at; one because she was afraid of falling into fits; and fourteen for sundry other reasons. Among those expelled, there were two for swearing; two for sabbath breaking; seventeen for drunkenness; two for retailing spirituous liquors; three for quarreling; one for beating his wife; three for wilful lying; four for railing; one for laziness; and twenty-nine for lightness and carelessness. Thus, within a few months after its formation, the Newcastle society was purged of one hundred and forty of its members.

Joined with Newcastle were a number of country places, at each of which Wesley preached every week, excepting Swalwell, where he went only once a fortnight. These were Horsley, Pelton, Chowden, South Biddick, Tanfield, Birtley, and Placey. At Chowden, he found he had got into the very Kingswood of the north; twenty or thirty wild children, in rags and almost nakedness, flocking round about him. At Pelton, in the midst of the sermon, one of the colliers began to shout amain from an excess of joy; but their usual token of approbation was clapping Wesley on the back. At Placey, the colliers had always been in the first rank for savage ignorance and all kinds of wickedness. Every Sunday men, women, and children met together to dance, fight, curse and swear, and play at chuck ball, span farthing, or whatever came to hand; but, notwithstanding this, when Wesley went among them, on the 1st of April, and preached amid wind, sleet, and snow till he was encased in ice, “they gave earnest heed to the things which were spoken.”

In Newcastle, almost every night, there were scenes of great excitement. Numbers dropped down, lost their strength, and were seized with agonies. Some said, they felt as if a sword was running through them; others thought a great weight upon them; others could hardly breathe; and others felt as if their bodies were being torn to pieces. “These symptoms,” says Wesley, “I can no more impute to any natural causes, than to the Spirit of God. I can make no doubt, but it was Satan tearing them, as they were coming to Christ. And hence proceeded those grievous cries, whereby he might design both to discredit the work of God, and to affright fearful people from hearing that word whereby their souls might be saved.”

Wesley left on April 7, and on the 30th of May was succeeded by his brother. Charles put an end to these annoying fits, and says, “I am more and more convinced it was a device of Satan to stop the course of the gospel.” He preached to “a thousand wild people” at Sunderland. At South Shields, his congregation consisted of “a huge multitude; many of them very fierce and threatening”; while the churchwardens and others tried to interrupt him by throwing dirt, and even money among the people. The mob at North Shields, led on by the parish priest, roughly saluted him; his reverence commanding a man to blow a horn, and his companions to shout.

Charles left on the 21st of June, and, eight days afterwards, was succeeded by John. The society was further reduced, by fresh backslidings, to about six hundred members. Wesley spent nearly three weeks among them; formed a society out of “his favourite congregation at Placey;” and then returned to London.

He came again on October 31st, and found the following advertisement was published:—

“FOR THE BENEFIT OF MR. ESTE.

By the Edinburgh Company of Comedians, on Friday, November 4,

will be acted a Comedy, called

THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS;

To which will be added, a Farce, called,

TRICK UPON TRICK, OR METHODISM DISPLAYED.”

The day came; and about fifteen hundred people assembled in Moot Hall to see the funny farce, some hundreds having to sit upon the stage. Soon after the comedians began the first act of “The Conscious Lovers,” the seats upon the stage broke down, and their occupants were left sprawling in all directions. In the midst of the second act, all the shilling seats gave a crack, and began to sink. The people shrieked, and numbers ran away. When the third act was commencing, the entire stage suddenly sunk about six inches, and the players precipitately fled. At the end of the act, all the sixpenny seats, in a moment, fell with an alarming crash, which caused cries on every side. Most of the people had now left the hall, but, two or three hundred still remaining, Este, who was to act the Methodist, came forward and told them he was determined that the farce should be performed. While he was speaking, the stage sunk six inches more; when the valorous comedian and the remnant of his audience took to their heels in the utmost confusion. The week after, however, the farce was acted, and hundreds of people went again to see it.

One or two incidents in connection with Wesley’s northern journeys may be noticed here.

While returning to the south, at the beginning of the year, he was, for the first time in his life, repelled from the sacramental table. This occurred at Epworth. Having preached, on his father’s tomb, to a large congregation, gathered from the neighbouring towns, and it being the sacramental Sunday, some of the people went to Romley, the curate, to ask his permission to communicate; to whom the proud priest replied, “Tell Mr. Wesley, I shall not give him the sacrament; for he is not fit.” Wesley writes, “How wise a God is our God! there could not have been so fit a place under heaven, where this should befal me first, as my father’s house, the place of my nativity, and the very place where, ‘according to the straitest sect of our religion,’ I had so long ‘lived a Pharisee.’ It was also fit, in the highest degree, that he who repelled me from that very table where I had myself so often distributed the bread of life, should be one who owed his all in this world to the tender love which my father had shown to his, as well as personally to himself.”

While on his third journey to Newcastle, in 1743, Wesley paid his first visit to the town of Grimsby. Here a woman—a magdalen, who was parted from her husband—offered him a convenient place for preaching, and, under his sermon, became a penitent. Wesley, after hearing her domestic history, told her she must return instantly to her forsaken spouse. She replied, her husband was at Newcastle, and she knew not how to reach him. Wesley said, “I am going to Newcastle to-morrow morning. William Blow is going with me; and you shall ride behind him.” This was an odd arrangement, and perhaps not too prudent; but it was carried out. The poor creature rode to Newcastle, sad and sombre; there she met her husband; and, a short time after, was drowned at sea, while on her way to Hull.

The year 1743 will always be memorable for the riots in Staffordshire. At this period, West Bromwich was an open common, covered with heath, and burrowed with rabbit warrens. Wednesbury was a small country town, irregularly built, the roads following ancient footways, and leaving wide spaces unoccupied. One of these was called the “High Bullen,” and was the place where bulls were baited. So extensively did this barbarous sport prevail in the “black country,” that, in Tipton parish, nineteen of these furious animals were baited at one of the annual wakes. Wednesbury, however, was most celebrated for its cockfights. Indeed, the Wednesbury “cockings,” as Charles Knight informs us, were almost as famous as the races of the “Derby day” at the present time. Recreations are an index to character, and sports, such as these, reflected, as well as moulded, the moral condition of the people.

Charles Wesley, accompanied by Mr. Graves, was the first Methodist who preached at Wednesbury. This was in November, 1742.[486] His brother followed in January, 1743, and spent four days among the people, preached eight sermons, and formed a society of about one hundred members.[487] Mr. Egginton, the vicar, was extremely courteous, told Wesley he had done much good already, and he doubted not would do much more, invited him to his house, and said the oftener he came the better.[488]

Wesley was followed by Mr. Williams, a Welshman, who, it is alleged, vilified the clergy, and called them dumb dogs that could not bark. After him came a bricklayer; then a plumber and glazier, both sent from London; and, under their preaching, people fell down in fits, and made strange hideous noises. Malice, spleen, and feuds sprung up. The Methodists spoke ill natured things of their lawful minister, and told the members of the Church of England, that they would all be damned. These things, it is said, exasperated ignorant people, and were the principal cause of the subsequent disturbances.[489] Wesley paid a second visit to Wednesbury on the 15th of April, and says, “the inexcusable folly of Mr. Williams had so provoked Mr. Egginton, that his former love was turned into bitter hatred.” Wesley went to church, where Egginton delivered, with great bitterness of voice and manner, what Wesley pronounced, the most wicked sermon he ever heard; and, two days afterwards, while he himself was preaching, a neighbouring parson, who was extremely drunk, after using many unseemly and bitter words, tried to ride over his congregation.

Charles Wesley came on the 20th of May, and found the society increased to above three hundred. “The enemy,” he writes, “rages exceedingly, and preaches against them. A few have returned railing for railing; but the generality have behaved as the followers of Christ.” A Dissenter had given a piece of ground upon which to build a chapel, and Charles says, “I consecrated it by a hymn.” He went to Walsal, accompanied by many of the brethren, singing songs of praise. He preached from the steps of the market house, the mob roaring, shouting, and throwing stones incessantly. Many struck him, but none hurt him.

Soon after this, while a small party of Wednesbury Methodists were returning from Darlaston, singing hymns, the Darlaston mob began to pelt them with stones and dirt; while the united mobs of Darlaston, Walsal, and Bilston smashed the windows of most of the Methodist houses in Wednesbury, Darlaston, and West Bromwich.[490] In some instances, money was extorted, and in others furniture was broken, spoiled, or stolen; and even pregnant women were beaten with clubs and otherwise abused.[491] John Adams, John Eaton, and Francis Ward went to Walsal for a warrant to apprehend the rioters. The magistrate, Mr. Persehouse, told them they had themselves to blame for the outrage that had been committed, and refused their application.[492] The mob hurled against them all sorts of missiles, and when the magistrate was asked to quiet these disturbers of the public peace, he swung his hat round his head, and cried, “Huzza!” Mr. Taylor, the curate of Walsal, came, not to stop the outrage, but to encourage the rioters in their violence. One of them struck Francis Ward on the eye, and cut it so, that he expected to lose his sight. He went into a shop and had it dressed, when the ruffians again pursued him, and beat him most unmercifully. He escaped into the public house, and was again fetched out, and dragged along the street, and through the public kennels, till he lost his strength, and was hardly able to stand erect.

Wesley writes, June 18th: “I received a full account of the terrible riots which had been in Staffordshire. I was not surprised at all, neither should I have wondered if, after the advices they had so often received from the pulpit, as well as from the episcopal chair, the zealous high churchmen had rose and cut all that were Methodists in pieces.”

He immediately set out to assist the poor Methodists, as far as he was able, and came to Francis Ward’s on the 22nd. After hearing the statements of the people, he “thought it best to inquire whether there could be any help from the laws of the land”; and rode to Counsellor Littleton at Tamworth, to ask his opinion on the matter.

The mob were still as violent as ever. On the very day before Wesley’s arrival at Francis Ward’s, a large crowd came to the house of John Eaton, who was a constable. John went to the door, with his constable’s staff, and began to read the act of parliament against riots; but stones flew so thick about his head, that he was obliged to leave off reading and to retire. They then broke all his windows, destroyed the door of his dwelling, and smashed his clock to pieces. On the same day, two or three of the Methodists were singing a hymn in John Adams’ house, when a pack of apprentices came and threw stones through the windows. A mob destroyed Jonas Turner’s windows with a club, threw three baskets full of stones to break his furniture, and ruthlessly dragged him along the ground a distance of sixty yards. They went to Mary Turner’s house, at West Bromwich, and hunted her and her two daughters with stones and stakes, threatening to knock them on the head, and to bury them in a ditch. They came to John Bird’s house, felled his daughter, snatched money from his wife, and then broke ten of his windows, besides destroying sash frames, shutters, chests of drawers, doors, and dressers. They took Humphrey Hands by the throat, swore they would be the death of him, gave him a great swing, and hurled him on the ground. On rising, they struck him on the eye, and again knocked him down. They then smashed all his windows, shivered many of his household goods, and broke all the shelves, drawers, pots, and bottles in his shop, and destroyed almost all his medicines. All this happened within a day or two of Wesley’s coming to Francis Ward’s. Indeed, at this very time, there were in and about Wednesbury more than eighty houses, all of which had their windows damaged, and in many of which not three panes of glass were left unbroken.[493]

Counsellor Littleton assured Wesley they might have an easy remedy, if they resolutely prosecuted, as the law directed; and doubtless this encouraged John Griffiths and Francis Ward to apply, at the end of June, to another magistrate for protection and redress; but, having stated their case to his worship, he talked to them roughly, made game of them, refused a warrant, and said, “I suppose you follow these parsons that come about. I will neither meddle nor make.”

For some time, preaching was suspended; and then came Messrs. Graves and Williams, who, however, confined their preaching to private houses.[494] At length, on October 20, Wesley himself again entered this wild beasts’ den. At noon, he preached in the centre of the town, and was not disturbed; but, two or three hours afterwards, while he was writing at Francis Ward’s, the mob beset the house, and cried, “Bring out the minister; we will have the minister!” At Wesley’s request, three of the most furious came into the house, and, after the interchange of a few sentences, were perfectly appeased. With these men to clear the way, Wesley went out, and, standing in the midst of the surging mob, asked them what they wanted with him. Some said, “We want you to go with us to the justice.” Wesley replied, “That I will, with all my heart”; and away they went. Before they had walked a mile, the night came on, accompanied with heavy rain. Bentley Hall, the residence of Mr. Lane, the magistrate, was two miles distant. Some pushed forward, and told Mr. Lane, that they were bringing Wesley before his worship. “What have I to do with Wesley?” quoth the magistrate; “take him back again.” Presently the crowd came up, and began knocking for admittance. A servant told them his master was in bed. The magistrate declined to see them, but his son asked their business. A spokesman answered, “To be plain, sir, if I must speak the truth, all the fault I find with him is, that he preaches better than our parsons.” Another said, “Sir, it is a downright shame; he makes people rise at five in the morning to sing psalms.[495] What advice would your worship give us?” “Go home,” said Lane, the younger, “and be quiet.”

Finding it impossible to obtain an audience of Mr. Lane, they then hurried Wesley to Walsal, to Mr. justice Persehouse. It was now about seven o’clock, and, of course, was dark. Persehouse, however, also refused to see them, on the ground that, like magisterial Mr. Lane, he was gone to bed; and hence there was nothing for it but to trudge back again. About fifty of the crowd undertook to be Wesley’s convoy; but, before they had gone more than a hundred yards, the mob of Walsal ran after them; some were pelted; others fled; and Wesley was left, alone and unbefriended, in the hands of the victorious ruffians. Some tried to seize him by the collar, and to pull him down. A big lusty fellow, just behind him, struck him several times with an oaken club. Another rushed through the crowd, lifted his arm to strike, but, on a sudden, let it drop, and only stroked Wesley’s head, saying “What soft hair he has!” One man struck him on the breast; and another on the mouth, with such force, that the blood gushed out. He was dragged back to Walsal; and, attempting to enter a large house, the door of which was standing open, he was seized by the hair of the head, and hindered. He was then paraded through the main street, from one end of Walsal to the other. Here he stood, and asked, “Are you willing to hear me speak?” Many cried, “No, no! knock out his brains; down with him; kill him at once!” Wesley asked, “What evil have I done? which of you all have I wronged in word or deed?” Again they cried, “Bring him away, bring him away!” Wesley began to pray; and now a man, who just before headed the mob, turned and said, “Sir, I will spend my life for you; follow me, and no one shall hurt a hair of your head.” Two or three of his companions joined him; the mob parted; and these three or four brave ruffians, the captains of the rabble on all occasions, and one of them a prizefighter in a bear garden, took Wesley and carried him safely through the infuriated crowd. He writes: “a little before ten o’clock, God brought me safe to Wednesbury; having lost only one flap of my waistcoat, and a little skin from one of my hands. From the beginning to the end I found the same presence of mind, as if I had been sitting in my own study. But I took no thought for one moment before another; only once it came into my mind, that, if they should throw me into the river, it would spoil the papers that were in my pocket. For myself, I did not doubt but I should swim across, having but a thin coat and a light pair of boots.”

It is right to add, that, in the midst of all these perils, there were four brave Methodists who clung to Wesley, resolved to live or die with him, namely, William Sitch, Edward Slater, John Griffiths, and Joan Parks. When Wesley asked William Sitch, what he expected when the mob seized them, William answered with a martyr’s spirit, “To die for Him, who died for us.” And when Joan Parks was asked if she was not afraid, she said: “No, no more than I am now. I could trust God for you, as well as for myself.”

Such was the beginning of Methodism in the “black country.” “The heathen raged, and the people imagined a vain thing. But He that sitteth in the heavens laughed; the Lord had them in derision.” Human justice there was none; but Divine protection was sufficient. Wesley was carried to the houses of Lane and Persehouse, but these two magisterial worthies refused to see him; and yet, only eight days before, they had the effrontery to issue the following proclamation, which Wesley justly calls one of the greatest curiosities, of the kind, that England had ever seen:—

“To all High Constables, Petty Constables, and other of His Majesty’s Peace Officers, within the county of Staffordshire, and particularly to the Constable of Tipton:—

“Whereas, we, His Majesty’s Justices of the Peace for the said county of Stafford, have received information, that several disorderly persons, styling themselves Methodist preachers, go about raising routs and riots, to the great damage of His Majesty’s liege people, and against the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King.

“These are in His Majesty’s name, to command you, and every one of you, within your respective districts, to make diligent search after the said Methodist preachers, and to bring him or them before some of us His said Majesty’s Justices of the Peace, to be examined concerning their unlawful doings.

“Given under our hands and seals, this 12th day of October, 1743.

“J. LANE, “W. PERSEHOUSE.”[496]

It is a remarkable fact, however, that, notwithstanding Wesley’s rough usage, and the pretentiously loyal proclamation of these two unjust justices, Charles Wesley boldly bearded the lions in their den only five days after his brother so miraculously escaped. He found the poor Methodists “standing fast in one mind and spirit, in nothing terrified by their adversaries.” He writes: “Never before was I in so primitive an assembly. We sung praises lustily, and with a good courage; and could all set our seal to the truth of our Lord’s saying, ‘Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.’ We assembled before day to sing hymns of praise to Christ; and, as soon as it was light, I walked down the town, and preached boldly on Revelation ii. 10. It was a most glorious time. Our souls were satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and we longed for our Lord’s coming to confess us before His Father and His holy angels.”[497]

Even this is not all. The clergyman at Darlaston was so struck with the meek behaviour of the Methodists, in the midst of suffering, that he offered to join the Wesleys in punishing the rioters;[498] while “honest Munchin,” as he was called, the captain of the rabble, who first came to Wesley’s help and rescued him, was so impressed with his spirit and behaviour, that he immediately forsook his gang of godless companions, joined the Methodists, and was received, by Charles Wesley, as a member on trial, only five days after Wesley’s deliverance. “What thought you of my brother?” asked Charles Wesley of “honest Munchin.” “Think of him!” said he, “I thought he is a mon of God; and God was on his side, when so mony of us could not kill one mon.”

It may here be added, that “Munchin” was a nickname only,—a provincial word expressive of coarse, brutal strength. The real name of Wesley’s deliverer was George Clifton. He lived in a small house at the foot of Holloway Bank, and never tired of telling, in after days, how God stayed his hand, when he nearly took Wesley’s life. He died in Birmingham, at the age of eighty-five, in the year 1789, and was buried in St. Paul’s churchyard. It is a notable incident[499] that, while Wesley’s persecutors passed quickly away, nearly all who took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, lived, like “honest Munchin,” a long and a peaceful life, and saw their children’s children walking in the fear of God.

Unfortunately, the “Staffordshire riots” did not terminate in October, 1743; and, in order to complete the summary, we must trespass, for a moment, on the events of 1744.

We learn from the pamphlet already quoted, “Papers giving an account of the Rise and Progress of Methodism at Wednesbury and in other parishes adjacent,” that, after the bold visit of Charles Wesley, Messrs. Graves and Williams, who, for months past, had preached only in private houses, now begun to preach publicly. At Christmas, Whitefield came and spent several days in preaching in the streets with his accustomed eloquence and power; and then, on February 2, 1744, Charles Wesley again entered the field of action. Egginton, the Wednesbury vicar, had drawn up a paper, and sent the crier to give notice, that all the Methodists must sign it, or else their houses would be immediately demolished. It was to this effect, “that they would never read, or sing, or pray together, or hear the Methodist parsons any more.” Several signed through fear; and every one who did was mulcted a penny to assist in making the rabble drunk.[500]

This was not more than about a month before Charles Wesley’s visit. When he came, however, Egginton was dead; but, in the meantime, not a Methodist in Darlaston had escaped the renewed violence of the vicar’s godless mob, except two or three who had bought exemption by giving their purses to the lawless gang. The windows of all the Methodists were broken, neither glass, lead, nor frames remaining. Tables, chairs, chests of drawers, and whatever furniture was not easily removable, were dashed in pieces. Feather beds were torn to shreds, and the feathers strewed about the rooms[501] in all directions.

No craven-hearted parson would have ventured to preach to humanised fiends like these; and yet these were pre-eminently the men whom the Wesleys tried to benefit and save. At the risk of being murdered, they fearlessly told them of their sin and danger. More than once they had hazarded their lives; and now, Charles was in the midst of these begrimed ruffians, as courageous as ever. He escaped, but the poor Methodists were again made to suffer from the more than brutal violence of their fiendish neighbours.

One man’s wife, about Candlemas, was abused in a manner too horrible to relate; and, because he tried to bring some of the recreants to justice, his windows were broken; his furniture and tools destroyed; all his wife’s linen was torn to tatters; his bed and bedstead were cut; and his Bible and Prayer-Book pulled to pieces. On Shrove Tuesday, the house of Francis Ward was forcibly entered, and all his goods were stolen. John Darby’s house was broken open, his furniture and five stalls of bees destroyed, and his poultry filched. Other houses were plundered and injured in like manner. Some of the mob were armed with swords, some with clubs, and some with axes. The outrages, if possible, were even worse than those some months before. One man cut Mary Turner’s bible into fragments with his axe. Another swore he would beat out Mrs. Sheldon’s brains with her fire shovel. Joshua Constable was attacked by an outrageous gang, his house, in part, pulled down, his goods destroyed and stolen, and his wife violently and brutally assaulted. For six days, in the early part of 1744, this lawless riot lasted, and the damage done to the property of the Wednesbury Methodists amounted to a serious sum. Applications for redress were made to not fewer than three magistrates, but to no purpose. The document, containing many of the above facts, was drawn up on February 26, 1744 when the persecuted Methodists remark:—“We keep meeting together morning and evening, are in great peace and love with each other, and are nothing terrified by our adversaries. God grant we may endure to the end!”[502]

Leaving the “black country,” we must pass to other scenes of fiendish violence, and yet sacred triumph.

Cornwall, at this period, was as imbruted as Staffordshire. Smuggling was considered an honourable traffic, and the plunder of shipwrecked mariners was accounted a lawful prize. Drunkenness was general; and cockfighting, bullbaiting, wrestling, and hurling were the favourite amusements of the people. Francis Truscott relates that, at the time when the Wesleys first went to Cornwall, there was a village, about five miles from Helstone, which was literally without a Bible, and which had, no religious book whatever, except a single copy of the Book of Common Prayer, kept at the public house. On one occasion, during a terrific storm, when the people feared that the world was ending, they fled in consternation to the tavern, that Tom, the tapster, might secure them protection by reading them a prayer. Having fallen upon their knees, Tom hastily snatched a well thumbed book; and began, with great pomposity, to read about storms, wrecks, and rafts, until his mistress, finding that some mistake was made, cried out, “Tom, that is ‘Robin Cruso’!” “No,” said Tom, “it is the Prayer-Book;” and on he went until he came to a description of man Friday, when his mistress again vociferated that she was certain Tom was reading “Robin Cruso.” “Well, well,” said Tom, “suppose I am; there are as good prayers in ‘Robin Cruso’ as in any other book”; and so Tom proceeded, till the storm abated, and the conscience stricken company dispersed, complacently believing that they had done their duty.[503]

While the people, however, were thus generally sunk in ignorance and vice, there were a few exceptions. Among these were Catherine Quick and eleven others, at St. Ives, who frequently met together to pray, and to read Burkitt’s Notes on the New Testament. This godly band of pious people was visited by Captain Turner, a Methodist from Bristol; and this led Catherine Quick and her associates to invite Wesley to visit them.[504]

Charles Wesley was the first to come. Entering St. Ives, on July 16, Mr. Shepherd met him; the boys of the place gave him a rough salute; and Mr. Nance made him his welcome guest. The day after his arrival, he went to church, where the rector preached a railing sermon against the Methodists, or, as he called them, “the new sect, enemies to the Church, seducers, troublers, scribes, pharisees, and hypocrites.” Immediately after being thus religiously regaled, Charles and his godly inviters went to the church at Wednock, where Mr. Hoblin, the curate, poured out such a hotch-potch of railing and foolish lies as might have made even the devil blush. Charles told the preacher, that he had been misinformed; upon which his reverence replied, with more coarseness than courtesy, “You are a liar,” and then left him. On the day following, when Charles Wesley went to the market house, at St. Ives, and commenced singing the hundredth psalm, the mob began to beat a drum and shout. Four days later, when he had just named his text, the same unruly ruffians rushed upon his congregation, and threatened to murder them. The sconces of the room were broken, the windows dashed in pieces, and the shutters, benches, and, indeed, everything except the walls, destroyed. They asseverated, that Charles Wesley should not preach again, and lifted up their hands and clubs to strike him. The women were beaten, dragged about, and trampled on without mercy; until, at length, the rascals fell to quarreling among themselves, broke the town clerk’s head, and left the room. Two days after, while preaching at Wednock, the minister’s mob fell upon the congregation, and swore most horribly, that they would be revenged on them for their taking the people from the church, and making such a disturbance on the sabbath day. Sticks and stones were used, and ten cowardly ruffians attacked one unarmed man, beat him with their clubs, and knocked him to the ground. The day following, at St. Ives, the service was broken up by the mob throwing eggs and stones, and swearing they would pull down the walls of the room, whose windows, benches, and sconces they had already ruthlessly destroyed. At Pool, on July 26, the churchwarden shouted, and hallooed, and put his hat to Charles Wesley’s mouth to prevent his preaching.

All these outrages were principally prompted by the parsons, who continually spoke of the Methodists as popish emissaries, and who, to use the Rev. Mr. Hoblin’s fisticuff language, “ought to be driven away by blows, and not by arguments.” At length, the mayor of St. Ives appointed twenty new constables to suppress the rioters by force of arms, “and plainly told Mr. Hoblin, the fire and fagot minister, that he would not be perjured to gratify any man’s malice.”

Charles Wesley came to St. Ives on the 16th of July, and set out, on his return to London, on August 8, his brother having summoned him to attend a conference with the adherents of Whitefield and with the Moravians. In this way, his labours in Cornwall were interrupted; but, a fortnight after, his brother, accompanied by John Nelson, John Downes, and Mr. Shepherd, succeeded him. Nelson and Downes had but one horse between them, and, hence, rode by turns. They reached St. Ives on August 30, and found the society increased to about a hundred and twenty, nearly a hundred of whom had found peace with God. John Nelson began to work at his trade as a stonemason; and, as opportunity permitted, preached at St. Just, the Land’s End, and other places. John Downes fell ill of a fever, and was unable to preach at all. Wesley and Nelson slept upon the floor, Wesley using Nelson’s top coat for a pillow, and Nelson using Burkitt’s Notes on the New Testament for his. One morning, at three o’clock, after using this hard bed for a fortnight, Wesley turned over, clapped Nelson on the side, and jocosely said: “Brother Nelson, let us be of good cheer, for the skin is off but one side yet.” Their board also was as hard as their bed. They were continually preaching; but “it was seldom,” says Nelson, “that any one asked us to eat or drink. One day, as we returned from St. Hilary Downs, Mr. Wesley stopped his horse to pick the blackberries, saying, ‘Brother Nelson, we ought to be thankful, that there are plenty of blackberries; for this is the best country I ever saw for getting an appetite, but the worst for getting food.’”[505]

Wesley spent three weeks in Cornwall, leaving Nelson behind him. Upon the whole, he had been kindly treated. The mob at St. Ives, it is true, welcomed him with a loud huzza; and serenaded him before his window with the harmless ditty:—

“Charles Wesley is come to town, To try if he can pull the churches down.”

But, during his stay, the only act of violence he met with was, on one occasion, when the mob burst into the room at St. Ives, and a ruffian struck him on the head.

On his way to Cornwall, and also on returning, Wesley preached at Exeter, and visited a lad, and a clergyman in prison, both sentenced to suffer death. His vast congregation “in that solemn amphitheatre,” as he calls the castle yard, was such an one as he had rarely seen,—“void both of anger, fear, and love.” He also preached at the cross in Taunton, where a man, attempting to make disturbance, so exasperated the congregation, that there was a general cry, “Knock the rascal down, beat out his brains!” and Wesley had to interfere to prevent his being roughly handled. He likewise paid a flying visit to the Isles of Scilly, crossing the ocean in a fishing boat, and singing amid the swelling waves:—

“When passing through the watery deep, I ask in faith His promised aid; The waves an awful distance keep, And shrink from my devoted head, Fearless their violence I dare; They cannot harm,—for God is there.”

It has been already stated, that Charles Wesley was summoned from Cornwall to attend a conference in London, consisting of the leading men of the three communities,—the Arminian Methodists, the Calvinistic Methodists, and the Moravians. The object of the conference was, by mutual explanations and concessions, to cultivate a better understanding with each other; so that the parties might avoid all unnecessary collision, and unite, as far as was practicable, in advancing what they believed to be the work of God. Wesley drew up a statement of the questions at issue between himself and Whitefield, with the concessions he was prepared to make.[506] Mr. Jackson says, the project had its origin with Wesley,[507] and perhaps it had; but, a year before this, John Cennick expressed a wish for the same sort of meeting. In a letter to Whitefield’s wife, dated May 6, 1742, he writes:—“I have had it much impressed upon my mind, that it would be right in the sight of God, that all our preachers, all Mr. Wesley’s, and all the Moravian brethren should meet together. Who knows but we might unite? Or if not, we might consent in principles as far as we can, and love one another. At least, I think all our preachers should meet, as the apostles did, often. I know it would be for good; but I suspend my judgment to the elder brethren.”[508]

It may thus be doubtful whether the proposal for the conference originated with Wesley or with Cennick; but, through no fault of Wesley’s, the proposal was abortive. To be present at the conference, Wesley travelled from Newcastle; his brother came all the way from Cornwall; and John Nelson trudged from Yorkshire. But Whitefield, who was in London, seems to have declined the invitation; the Moravians refused to come; and, though Spangenberg had promised to attend, he left England instead of doing so; while James Hutton said, his brethren had orders not to confer at all, unless the archbishop of Canterbury, or the bishop of London, were also present.[509]

This was the last attempt at union; but perhaps it suggested to Wesley’s mind the idea of having conferences of his own, which he began to hold twelve months afterwards.

Not a little of the time of the two Wesleys was now employed in pastoralizing the societies they had formed in London, Bristol, and other places. In Bristol, in the month of January, Wesley spoke to each member of society, and rejoiced in finding them neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. He did the same at Kingswood, and remarks: “I cannot understand how any minister can hope ever to give up his account with joy, unless (as Ignatius advises) he knows all his flock by name; not overlooking the men servants and maid servants.” In London, he and his brother began visiting the society together, on February 2, which they continued from six in the morning to six at night, until the visiting was completed. The same practice was pursued at Newcastle.

The London society now consisted of nineteen hundred and fifty members; and, before the year was ended, it numbered two and twenty hundred. This was a large church, gathered within the last four years, and needing a more than ordinary amount of pastoral attention. The members only, to say nothing of children, servants, and outside hearers, were almost sufficient to fill the Foundery chapel twice over. More room became imperative. Without this, it seemed to be impossible to extend, or even to conserve the work. London had one Methodist chapel already; before the year was ended, it had two others.

In the month of May, Wesley had the offer of a chapel in West Street, Seven Dials, which about sixty years before had been built by the French Protestants. He accepted the offer, and opened the chapel, as a Methodist place of worship, on Trinity Sunday, the first service lasting from ten o’clock till three. At five, he preached again to an immense congregation at the Great Gardens; then met the leaders; and after them the bands; and yet, at ten o’clock at night, he was less weary than when he began his enormous day’s work in the morning. Here, when in London, he and his brother now regularly officiated on Sunday mornings and evenings, read the liturgy, and administered the sacraments. The Lord’s supper was celebrated at the morning service on both the first and second Sundays of the month, and the attendance was so numerous, that, in both instances, the service usually lasted at least five hours. This was longer than even Wesley thought desirable, and led him to divide the communicants into three divisions, so that not more than about six hundred might communicate on the same occasion. These were enormous gatherings, with which those of the present day will hardly bear comparison.

Three months after he took possession of the West Street chapel, Wesley became the occupier of a third, which had been built in Bermondsey, Southwark, by a Unitarian. Being vacant, Wesley took it. Some objected to this. “What!” said a zealous woman, “what! will Mr. Wesley preach at Snowsfields? Surely not! there is not such another place in London. The people there are not men, but devils!” This was just the sort of reason to induce Wesley, not to stay away, but go. Accordingly, on August 8, he opened Snowsfields chapel by preaching from the words—“Jesus said, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

Wesley did more than this for the London society. Visiting the sick he regarded as an imperative Christian duty. Sending them help was not enough. Besides, to neglect this was not only to neglect a duty, but to lose a means of grace. “One great reason,” says Wesley, “why the rich have so little sympathy for the poor, is, because they so seldom visit them.” “All,” he adds, “who desire to escape the everlasting fire, and to inherit the everlasting kingdom, are equally concerned, according to their power, to practise this important duty.”[510] Holding such sentiments, Wesley himself, throughout life, visited the poor and the afflicted, to the utmost of his ability; but, of course, as an itinerant evangelist, when he had done his best, much was left untouched. Hence, in the year 1743, he appointed in London visitors of the sick, as distinct office bearers in his society.[511] Stewards had been appointed already, to receive the contributions of the society, which amounted to nearly £8 per week; and to distribute them, partly in repairing and paying for chapel premises, partly in paying debts, partly in other necessary expenses, and partly in relieving the afflicted and the poor. The stewards, seven in number, were to be frugal; to have no long accounts; to give none, that asked relief, either an ill word or an ill look; and to expect no thanks from man. They met together every Thursday morning at six o’clock, and distributed all the money paid to them up to the previous Tuesday night; so that all receipts and disbursements were concluded within the week. The stewards, however, soon found a difficulty with regard to the afflicted. Some were ready to perish before they heard of them; and, even when they became acquainted with their illness, being persons generally employed in trade, they were unable to visit them as often as they wished. To meet this deficiency, Wesley called together the whole of the London society; showed how impossible it was for the stewards to visit all the sick in all parts of the metropolis; desired the leaders to be more careful in inquiring after sick cases, and in giving early information concerning them; and then appealed to the assembled members and asked for volunteers for this important work. Numbers cheerfully responded, out of whom Wesley selected forty-six, whom he judged to be of the most tender, loving spirit. He then divided London into twenty-three districts, and arranged that the sick, in each district, should be visited, by a couple of visitors, three times every week; and that the visitors, besides inquiring into the state of the people’s souls, should relieve those of them in want, and should present their accounts to the stewards weekly. Wesley writes:—

“Upon reflection, I saw how exactly, in this also, we had copied after the primitive church. What were the ancient deacons? What was Phœbe, the deaconess, but such a visitor of the sick?”

Four rules were to be observed:—

“1. Be plain and open in dealing with souls. 2. Be mild, tender, patient. 3. Be cleanly in all you do for the sick. 4. Be not nice.”

Wesley adds, five years afterwards:—

“We have ever since had great reason to praise God for His continued blessing on this undertaking. Many lives have been saved, many sicknesses healed, much pain and want prevented or removed. Many heavy hearts have been made glad, many mourners comforted; and the visitors have found, from Him whom they serve, a present reward for all their labour.”[512]

The two thousand members of the London society contributed about £400 a year, or, at the rate of a shilling per member per quarter. The Bristol society consisted of seven hundred members, and, after the same ratio, would contribute £140 per year. Eight hundred members at Newcastle would raise £160; and the societies at Kingswood and other places might give £100 additional: thus making the Methodist income, for 1743, something like £800. Out of this, all chapel expenses had to be defrayed; a large proportion was given to the afflicted poor; something was necessary for the contingent expenses of Wesley’s helpers; and the remainder,—how much was it?—was perhaps given to the two Wesleys to meet some of their own necessary wants. These were the men preying upon the pockets of the poor, and making themselves a fortune out of other people’s money! Such falsehoods were current, and were not entirely disbelieved even by some of Wesley’s own relatives.

Poor Emily Wesley, a classical scholar, and no mean poet,—after teaching in a boarding school where she was ill used and worse paid, and after marrying a poor Quaker, who did little for her, and soon left her—was now a penniless and dependent widow, maintained entirely by her two brothers, and living at the Foundery. Emily, in a petulant humour, wrote to her brother John, accusing him of the want of kindness and of natural affection, notwithstanding his reputed riches. John, in reply, wrote one of his most pungent letters, of which the following is a copy:—

“NEWCASTLE, June 30, 1743.

“DEAR EMILY,—Once, I think, I told you my mind freely before; I am constrained to do so once again. You say, ‘From the time of my coming to London, till last Christmas, you would not do me the least kindness.’ Do I dream, or you? Whose house were you in for three months, and upwards? By whose money were you sustained? It is a poor case, that I am forced to mention these things.

“But, ‘I would not take you lodgings in fifteen weeks.’ No, nor should I have done in fifteen years. I never once imagined, that you expected me to do this! Shall I leave the word of God to serve tables? You should know I have quite other things to mind; temporal things I shall mind less and less.

“‘When I was removed you never concerned yourself about me.’ That is not the fact. What my brother does, I do. Besides, I myself spoke to you abundance of times, before Christmas last.

“‘When I was at preaching, you would scarce speak to me.’ Yes; at least as much as to my sister Wright, or, indeed, as I did to any else at those times.

“‘I impute all your unkindness to one principle you hold, that natural affection is a great weakness, if not a sin.’ What is this principle I hold? That natural affection is a sin? or that adultery is a virtue? or that Mahommed was a prophet of God? and that Jesus Christ was a son of Belial? You may as well impute all these principles to me as one. I hold one just as much as the other. O Emmy, never let that idle, senseless accusation come out of your mouth.

“Do you hold that principle, ‘that we ought to be just (i. e. pay our debts) before we are merciful’? If I held it, I should not give one shilling for these two years, either to you or any other. And, indeed, I have, for some time, stayed my hand; so that I give next to nothing, except what I give to my relations. And I am often in doubt with regard to that, not whether natural affection be not a sin; but whether it ought to supersede common justice. You know nothing of my temporal circumstances, and the straits I am in, almost continually; so that were it not for the reputation of my great riches, I could not stand one week.

“I have now done with myself, and have only a few words concerning you. You are of all creatures the most unthankful to God and man. I stand amazed at you. How little have you profited under such means of improvement! Surely whenever your eyes are opened, whenever you see your own tempers, with the advantages you have enjoyed, you will make no scruple to pronounce yourself, (whores and murderers not excepted,) the very chief of sinners.—I am, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[513]

This is a caustic letter; and yet John Wesley was a loving brother. For nearly thirty years afterwards, Emily Harper was a resident in the preachers’ house at West Street, was a constant attendant on the ministry of her brothers, and died in peace, at the age of eighty, about the year 1772.

Much has been already related respecting the Methodist persecutions of 1743; but the whole has not been told. At Newcastle, three Dissenting ministers agreed together to exclude all from the holy communion, who would not refrain from attending Wesley’s ministry. One of them publicly affirmed, that the Methodist preachers were all papists, and that their doctrine was Popery. Another preached against them, and said, “Many texts in the Bible are for them; but you ought not to mind these texts; for the papists have put them in.” At Cowbridge, in Wales, when Wesley attempted to preach, the mob shouted, cursed, blasphemed, and threw showers of stones almost without intermission. At Bristol, a clergyman preached, in several of the city churches, against the upstart Methodists; and was about to do so in the church of St. Nicholas, when, after naming his text, he was seized with a rattling in his throat, fell backward against the pulpit door, and, on the Sunday following, expired. At Egham, Wesley went to church, and listened to one of the most miserable sermons he ever heard; stuffed with dull, senseless, improbable lies against those whom the parson complimented with the title of “false prophets.”

At Sheffield, the ministers of the town so inflamed the people, that they were ready to tear the Methodists to pieces. An army officer drew his sword, and presented it at Charles Wesley’s breast. The meeting-house was ruthlessly demolished, and the mob encouraged by the constable. The windows of Mr. Bennett’s house, in which Charles Wesley lodged, were smashed to atoms; and stones flew thick and fast in all directions. Near Barley Hall, a few miles from Sheffield, Charles Wesley and David Taylor were assaulted with a storm of stones, eggs, and dirt; David was wounded in the head and lost his hat; and the clothes of his companion were besmeared with filth.[514]

At Hampton, in Gloucestershire, the mob threatened to make aprons of Whitefield’s gown; broke a young lady’s arm; threw Mr. Adams twice into a pool of water; seized Whitefield for the purpose of casting him into a pit of lime;[515] and, from four in the afternoon till midnight, continued rioting, and declaring that no Anabaptists, etc., should preach there, upon pain of being first put into a skin-pit, and afterwards into a brook. Women were pulled down the stairs by the hair of their heads; Mr. Williams was twice thrown into a hole full of noisome reptiles and stagnant water, and was beaten, and dragged along the kennel; while the Methodists, in general, were mobbed to such an extent, that many expected to be murdered, and hid themselves in holes and corners, to avoid their enemies.

All this was bad enough; but there was something else, perhaps, quite as painful. The press, in its attacks, became as virulent as ever. Among other publications issued, was the following: “The Notions of the Methodists fully disproved, with a Vindication of the Clergy of the Church of England from their Aspersions. In two Letters to the Rev. Mr. John Wesley. Newcastle: 1743.” In this precious morsel, of near a hundred pages, the Methodists are branded as “conceited, vain boasters,” and “ignorant, giddy, presumptuous enthusiasts.” Wesley is accused of “compassing sea and land to gain proselytes”; of “making unwarrantable dissensions in the Church”; and of “prejudicing the people, wherever he came, against his brethren the clergy.” “You are,” writes this northern pamphleteer, “guilty both of schism and rebellion, which are two very grievous and damnable sins. You are the sower and ringleader of dissension, endeavouring with unwearied assiduity to set the flock at variance with their ministers and each other. You assume to yourself great wisdom and high attainments in all spiritual knowledge; but it requires no depth of understanding, to judge whether your character and conduct suit that of the spiritually or carnally wise man in St. James. You scruple not to accuse the clergy of almost universally teaching devilish doctrine, and of being deceitful workers; but, however you may boast of your conversions, you will in the end render yourselves the ridicule of mankind. You go from one end of the nation to another, lamenting the heresies of your brethren, and instilling into the people’s minds, that they are led into errors by their pastors; when the truth is, you are perverting them with solifidian and antinomian blasphemies. Consider, sir, how wicked and abominable in the sight of God it is for you to misrepresent your brethren to the people, in this scandalous manner. The mischief is, the giddy multitude, like the Athenians, love to spend their time in nothing else but hearing some new thing. They are tired with the solid, plain, and rational way of preaching they have been accustomed to in the Church, and think it dry and insipid in comparison of the powerful charms of that ecstatic eloquence, those highflown metaphors, those pretty rhymes, those taking gestures, with which you tickle and bewitch them. You give a deplorable account of the debt you have contracted by the building of your meeting-houses; but unless you can bring better proof than you have hitherto done, of the necessity there is to give yourself all this trouble and expense, all wise and considerate men, without any breach of charity, will look upon subscriptions for carrying on your designs, as little less than picking the poor people’s pockets, and robbing them of that which should maintain their families.”

Such is a specimen of the malignant slanders cast upon Wesley by this northern clergyman.

It has been already stated, that the Rev. Henry Piers preached, in 1742, before the clergy of the deanery of Shoreham, a visitation sermon, which Wesley revised, and which, at the time of its delivery, gave great offence. The preacher chosen for this office, in 1743, was of another stamp; and his sermon also was published, with the following title: “Of Speaking as the Oracles of God. A Sermon, preached before the Reverend the Clergy of the Deanery of Shoreham, at the Visitation, held in the Parish Church of Farningham, on Thursday, May 19, 1743. By John Andrews, M.A., Vicar of that Church.” 8vo, 30 pages. The world would have sustained no loss, if Mr. Andrews’ sermon had not been printed. The preacher sneers at the fancies of theological empirics, in one paragraph, and, in the next, speaks of the doctrines of “justification and regeneration as questions and strifes of words, which profit not.” Mr. Piers’ visitation sermon is attacked on the subject of faith; and the assembled clergy of the deanery of Shoreham are officially informed, that “every one, that is rightly and duly baptized, not only receives the outward ordinance, but the inward and spiritual grace annexed to it.”

Another pamphlet, published at this period, was, “A Fine Picture of Enthusiasm, chiefly drawn by Dr. Scott; with an application to our modern Methodists.” 40 pages. Dedicated to the Bishop of London. In this miserable morceau, we are told, that “there are thousands flocking after those enthusiasts, Whitefield and Wesley, who appear to be deluding crowds of people into a passionate, mechanical religion.” One of them, at least, is suspected to be a masked Jesuit; and both have courted persecution, but have had a mortifying disappointment. The singing of the Methodists is enchanting, and their tunes the most melodious that ever were composed for church music; but their hymns are irrational, and, like their prayers, dwell upon a word, or are immediate addresses to the Son of God, and represent Him as much more compassionate to the human race than God the Father ever was. “One of these artful teachers,” says the writer, “has ordered the tickets for his people to be impressed with the crucifix; and this, with their confessions and other customs, intimates a manifest fondness for the orthodox institutions of the Church of Rome. These modest teachers have not failed to trumpet their own extraordinary piety and holiness, as well as their extraordinary knowledge and illumination; and this has been done with great effect among the people. Their doctrine has very generally occasioned disorder in the passions of their hearers; the screamings and convulsions common among them, in their public assemblies, being called convictions. Vast numbers have gone melancholy among them. Many have been led to quit their lawful and necessary employment; to neglect their husbands, children, and families; and from useful members in society have become mopes and visionaries, incapable of pursuing their proper business, or of supporting themselves with decency.”

A fourth publication, belonging to the year 1743, was “The Progress of Methodism in Bristol; or, the Methodist Unmasked: wherein the doctrines, discipline, policy, divisions, and successes of that novel sect are fully detected and properly displayed in Hudibrastick verse, by an Impartial Hand. To which is added, by way of appendix, the Paper-Controversy between Mr. Robert Williams, supported by Thomas Christie, Esq., Recorder of Savannah, and the Rev. Mr. Wesley, supported only by his own integrity and assurance. Together with authentic extracts, taken from a late narrative of the state of Georgia, relating to the conduct of that gentleman during his abode in that colony. Bristol: 1743.” 16mo, 72 pages.

Among other things, this mendacious pamphlet contains an affidavit, sworn by Robert Williams before Stephen Clutterbuck, Mayor of Bristol, to the effect, that two freeholders at Savannah became bail for Wesley’s appearance at the sessions to take his trial, and that he dishonourably escaped from the colony and left his bondsmen in the lurch. To this Wesley replied: “Captain Robert Williams, you know in your own soul, that every word of this is a pure invention, without one grain of truth from the beginning of it to the end. What amends can you ever make, either to God, or to me, or to the world? Into what a dreadful dilemma have you brought yourself! You must either openly retract an open slander, or you must wade through thick and thin to support it, till that God, to whom I appeal, shall maintain His own cause, and sweep you away from the earth.”[516]

Whitefield and Wesley, in this scurrilous production, are accused of preaching to get money, and of placing men with plates at each gate and stile of the fields in which they harangued the people, to gather collections for the Orphan House in Georgia and the Room in Bristol. Wesley is charged with pretending to work miracles; for, upon a company of women falling down before him, he first of all prays over them, then sings a hymn, and then exorcises devils. In the midst of a most severe winter, he had taken his converts, early in the morning, through frost and snow, to the river Froom, at Baptist Mills, where, on the ice being broken, he and they went into the water, where, with “limbs shuddering and teeth hackering,” he baptized or dipped them. Class-meetings are described, the leaders of which note the sins of those who confess to them, register them in a book, and, in due season, “report them to John, who admonishes one, reprimands another, and expels a third.” At first, each member gave a penny, but now the lowest payment was twopence weekly. At present there were forty-eight classes in Bristol, each class containing “an even dozen.” After the watchnight meetings at Kingswood,

“Men, boys, and girls, and women too, Come strolling home at morning two:”

and at the nightly lovefeasts, “the ghostly father and all his sons draw near—

“The pious sisters, wives, and misses, And greet them well with holy kisses.”

But enough of this. What did Wesley himself publish in 1743?

1. “Nature, Design, and General Rules of the United Societies, in London, Bristol, Kingswood, and Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Newcastle-upon-Tyne: printed by John Gooding, on the Side. Price one penny. 1743.” Twelve pages.

This, the first edition of the “Rules,” is signed by John Wesley only, and bears date February 23, 1743. A second edition was issued, signed by both John and Charles Wesley, and dated May 1, 1743. The first edition has annexed “A Prayer for those who are convinced of Sin,” consisting of eighteen stanzas of four lines each, and from which is taken the beautiful hymn, numbered 462, in the Wesleyan Hymn-Book, and beginning with the line, “O let the prisoners‘mournful’ cries”; a production admirably appropriate to the circumstances in which the members of the first Methodist societies were placed.

Societies cannot exist without rules. Up to the present, Wesley had regulated his societies by vivâ voce instructions and direct authority; but, as the Methodists increased and multiplied, this became more difficult, and hence the publication now mentioned. The Rules were both written and published at Newcastle upon Tyne. Eleven days after the date they bear, Wesley read them to the Newcastle society, and desired the members seriously to consider whether they were willing to observe them. The careful reader will remark the designation which Wesley gives to his societies, as well as his description of their “nature and design.” They are not “Wesleyan,” or “Methodist,” but “United Societies.” As compared with the rules now in use, there are a few variations in the original edition deserving of being noticed. For instance, in the list of the leader’s duties, the first in order was, to receive from each person in his class, once a week, what the members were willing to give toward the relief of the poor. This is now altered thus: “to receive what they are willing to give for the support of the gospel.” The present rule forbidding “brother going to law with brother,” in the first and several subsequent editions, simply read, “going to law.” To the original rule, “the giving or taking things on usury,” has been added the words, “that is, unlawful interest;” and to the rule prohibiting “uncharitable or unprofitable conversation,” there was added, in the fourth edition, published in 1744, “especially, speaking evil of ministers or those in authority,” words now changed for “magistrates or ministers.” In the list of things forbidden in the present Rules, is the important one, “borrowing without a probability of paying; or taking up goods without a probability of paying for them;” this is not in the first editions. And among the duties enjoined is “family and private prayer”; but in the first edition the word family is not found, though, in the fourth edition, published twelve months afterwards, it was inserted.

The curious reader will forgive these trifles. They are all the variations found in the first edition of the Rules, as compared with the Rules now in use. The Rules themselves are too well known to require insertion.

2. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1743, was “A Word in Season; or, Advice to a Soldier.” 12mo, six pages. This is a model tract, and shows that, from the first, soldiers excited Wesley’s sympathy.

3. “Thoughts on Marriage and Celibacy.” 12mo, twelve pages. A strange production, substantially embodied in the piece in Wesley’s collected works, entitled, “Thoughts on a Single Life” (see vol. xxiv., page 252, orig. edit.). What shall we say of this? Wesley admits, that the popish doctrine forbidding to marry is a doctrine of devils, and that a person may be as holy in a married as in a single state; but he proceeds to show, that the happy few who have power to abstain from marriage are free from a thousand nameless domestic trials which are found sooner or later in every family. They are at liberty from the greatest of all entanglements, the loving one creature above all others; they have leisure to improve themselves; and, having no wife or children to provide for, may give all their worldly substance to God. Those highly favoured celibates are exhorted to prize the advantages they enjoy, and to be careful to keep them; they are to avoid all needless conversation, much more all intimacy with those of the other sex; all softness and effeminacy; all delicacy and needless self indulgence; and all sloth, inactivity, and indolence. They are to sleep no more than nature requires; to use as much bodily exercise as they can; to fast, and practise self denial; to wait upon the Lord without distraction; and to give all their time and their money to God. On the whole, without disputing whether the married or single life is the more perfect state. Wesley concludes by adding, “We may safely say, Blessed are they who abstain from things lawful in themselves, in order to be more devoted to God.”

Thirty years afterwards, when Wesley was twitted for marrying, after expressing such opinions, he averred, that his opinions with regard to the advantages of a single life were still unchanged; and that he entered the married state “for reasons best known to himself.”[517] This was a lame reply to a reasonable reflection on inconsistency. Wesley’s tract was a mistake; or, if not, Wesley ought to have adopted his own principles, and have lived and died a celibate.

4. In July, 1743, Wesley wrote his “Instructions for Children,” which reached a second edition in 1745, 12mo, 38 pages. Prefixed, was a preface, addressed “to all parents and schoolmasters,” stating, that a great part of the tract was translated from the French, and that it contained “the true principles of the Christian education of children,” and that these “should in all reason be instilled into them, as soon as they can distinguish good from evil.”

The first twelve lessons are a catechism, respecting God, the creation and the fall of man, man’s redemption, the means of grace, hell, and heaven. Then follow lessons how to regulate our desires, understanding, joy, and practices.

Repenting is defined as “being thoroughly convinced of our sinfulness, guilt, and helplessness”; faith in Christ, as “a conviction that Christ has loved me and given Himself for me;” holiness, as “the love of God and of all mankind for God’s sake.” Wesley asserts that “they who teach children to love praise, train them for the devil”; and that “fathers and mothers who give children everything they like, are the worst enemies they have.”

Wesley considered these “Instructions for Children,” extracted from Abbé Fleury and M. Poiret, superior, “for depth of sense and plainness of language, to anything in the English tongue.”[518] The Church Catechism he declared to be “utterly improper for children of six or seven years old,” and thought “it would be far better to teach them the short catechism, prefixed to the ‘Instructions.’”[519] Accordingly, he requested all his preachers to give children the “Instructions,” and to encourage them in committing the book to memory; while they themselves were to make it the subject of special study.[520]

Wesley’s attention to children is proverbial. “When I was a child,” said Robert Southey, “I was in a house, in Bristol, where Wesley was. On running downstairs before him, with a beautiful little sister of my own, he overtook us on the landing, when he lifted my sister in his arms and kissed her. Placing her on her feet again, he then put his hand upon my head, and blessed me; and I feel,” continued the bard, his eyes glistening with tears, and yet in a tone of grateful and tender recollection, “I feel as though I had the blessing of that good man upon me still.”[521]

In Wesley’s well known sermon on “Family Religion,” he lays it down that “the wickedness of children is generally owing to the fault or neglect of their parents.” The souls of children ought to be fed as often as their bodies. Methodists are exhorted not to send their sons “to any of the large public schools (for they are nurseries of all manner of wickedness), but to a private school, kept by some pious man, who endeavours to instruct a small number of children in religion and learning together.” He raises the same objection to “large boarding schools” for girls; for “in these seminaries, the children teach one another pride, vanity, affectation, intrigue, artifice, and, in short, everything which a Christian woman ought not to learn.” He adds: “I never yet knew a pious, sensible woman, that had been bred at a large boarding school, who did not aver, one might as well send a young maid to be bred in Drury Lane.”[522]

This is sweeping language; but at that period it was not without truth.

5. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1743, was, “A Practical Treatise on Christian Perfection. Extracted from a late author.” 12mo, 115 pages. This was an abridgment of William Law’s pungent book, published in 1726.

6. Another was an abridgment of Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress,” 12mo, 49 pages, price fourpence. Little did Wesley think that, within a hundred years, the whole of the glorious dreamer’s immortal work would be sold for a fourth of the price charged for his own fragment.

7. Wesley’s last, and most important work, which reached a second edition in the year it was published, was “An Earnest Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion,” 12mo, 53 pages.[523]

This was a clarion cry which created greater consternation than ever in the camp of Wesley’s enemies. First of all, he describes religion—the faith by which it is attained—and its reasonableness. Then, turning from those who do not receive the Christian system to those who say they do, he charges them, in the name of God, either to profess themselves infidels, or to be Christians; either to cast off the Bible, or their sins. “A common swearer, a sabbath breaker, a whoremonger, a drunkard, who says he believes the Scripture is of God, is a monster upon earth, the greatest contradiction to his own, as well as to the reason of all mankind.” After this, Wesley replies to the objections raised against Methodist doctrines, and to the calumny, that he and his coadjutors were papists in disguise, undermining the Church, and making preaching the means of replenishing their purses. It had been reported, that he received £1300 a year at the Foundery only, over and above what he received from Bristol, Kingswood, Newcastle, and other places. To this he answers, that the moneys given by the Methodists never come into his hands at all; but are received and expended by the stewards, in relieving the poor, and in buying, erecting, or repairing chapels; and that, so far from there being any overplus when this was done, he himself, at this moment, was in debt to the amount of £650, on account of the meeting-houses in London, Bristol, and Newcastle. He had “deliberately thrown up his ease, most of his friends, his reputation, and that way of life which of all others was most agreeable both to his natural temper and education; he had toiled day and night, spent all his time and strength, knowingly destroyed a firm constitution, and was hastening into weakness, pain, diseases, death,—to gain a debt of six or seven hundred pounds.” Then addressing himself to his brother clergy, he asks:—

“For what price will you preach eighteen or nineteen times every week; and this throughout the year? What shall I give you to travel seven or eight hundred miles, in all weathers, every two or three months? For what salary will you abstain from all other diversions than the doing good, and the praising God? I am mistaken if you would not prefer strangling to such a life, even with thousands of gold and silver.

“I will now simply tell you my sense of these matters, whether you will hear or whether you will forbear. Food and raiment I have; such food as I choose to eat, and such raiment as I choose to put on: I have a place where to lay my head: I have what is needful for life and godliness: and I apprehend this is all the world can afford. The kings of the earth can give me no more. For as to gold and silver, I count it dung and dross; I trample it under my feet; I esteem it just as the mire of the streets. I desire it not; I seek it not; I only fear lest any of it should cleave to me, and I should not be able to shake it off before my spirit returns to God. I will take care (God being my helper), that none of the accursed thing shall be found in my tents when the Lord calleth me hence. Hear ye this, all you who have discovered the treasures which I am to leave behind me; if I leave behind me £10,—above my debts and my books, or what may happen to be due on account of them,—you and all mankind bear witness against me, that I lived and died a thief and a robber.”

Wesley kept his word; for, within twelve months of his decease, he closed his cash-book with the following words, written with a tremulous hand, so as to be scarcely legible:—“For upwards of eighty-six years, I have kept my accounts exactly; I will not attempt it any longer, being satisfied with the continual conviction, that I save all I can, and give all I can; that is, all I have.”

1744.

[Sidenote: 1744 Age 41]

Wesley spent more than half of the year 1744 in London and its immediate neighbourhood. He made about half-a-dozen visits to Bristol; and three months were occupied in a tour to Cornwall, thence to Yorkshire and Newcastle, and thence to London.

Charles Wesley spent the year in London, Bristol, Cornwall, Staffordshire, Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, at Newcastle, Nottingham, Sheffield, and other intervening places.

Whitefield commenced the year with rejoicing over the birth of his firstborn,—a boy expected to be a minister, and publicly baptized in the Tabernacle, where thousands, on the occasion, joined in singing a doggrel hymn, written by an aged and doting widow. On the 8th of February, this infant prodigy suddenly expired in the Bell Inn, Gloucester, where Whitefield himself was born; and, after being taken to the church in which Whitefield was baptized, first communicated, and first preached, was then buried, Whitefield returning to London deeply pondering the meaning of what he calls “this blessed riddle.” The next four months were chiefly spent in the metropolis; after which he and his wife repaired to Plymouth for the purpose of sailing to America. Here they were detained for several weeks, waiting for the convoy in whose company the voyage was to be attempted. During the interval, Whitefield preached in the town and neighbourhood with great success, and was nearly murdered by a villain, who beat him most unmercifully with his golden-headed cane. At length, he set sail in company with nearly one hundred and fifty ships; and, after not a few adventures, landed in New England, at the end of October, but was so extremely ill, that, for several weeks, he was almost incapable of preaching. In point of fact, Whitefield preached but very little, during the year 1744, except in London and in Plymouth, and in their respective vicinities.

One of the chief events of 1744 was the threat of a French invasion. On the 15th of February, the king sent a message to the houses of parliament, to the effect, that he had received undoubted intelligence, that the eldest son of the pretender to his crown was arrived in France, and that preparations were being made to invade England.

Parliament replied, that they looked upon such a design with the greatest indignation and abhorrence, and would use every effort to frustrate and defeat so desperate and insolent an attempt.

Great excitement followed. The coast was watched with the utmost care. A double guard was mounted at the Tower, and also at St. James’s. All military officers were ordered to their posts of duty. Workmen in the king’s yards were directed to wear arms and accoutrements, and to be exercised every morning; and instructions were given to the militia of the county of Kent, to assemble at the earliest notice.[524] The Habeas Corpus act was suspended, and a proclamation was issued for a general fast. All papists and reputed papists were forbidden to remain within ten miles of the cities of Westminster and London. The Earl of Barrymore was arrested and committed to the Tower, on the charge of enlisting men for the Pretender. Loyal addresses were presented to the king by the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, by the merchants of London, by the convocation of the province of Canterbury, by the Quakers, by the Protestant Dissenters, and by many others. The city of Dublin offered a reward of £6000 for apprehending the Pretender, or his son, either alive or dead, should they attempt to land in Ireland; and sixty thousand fire arms and accoutrements were seized in suspected houses in the southern parts of that island. War was declared against France on the 29th of March, and the whole kingdom seemed to be inflamed with martial ardour.

How did this affect Wesley? Two days after the king informed parliament of the threatened invasion, Wesley and his London society held a day of solemn fasting and prayer. When the proclamation was published requiring all papists to leave London, though he had appointed to go out of town, he determined to stay, so as to cut off all occasion of reproach; but on the 2nd of March (the last day mentioned in the proclamation), while he was at a house in Spitalfields, a magistrate and the parish officers came in search of papists. Wesley was glad of the opportunity to explain the principles and the practices of the Methodists. The searchers were satisfied, and Wesley was allowed to depart in peace, a large mob merely gaping, staring, and hallooing as loud as they were able. Some of his friends pressed him to write an address to the king, on behalf of the Methodists. He did so, and described them as “a people scattered and peeled, and trodden underfoot; traduced as inclined to Popery, and consequently disaffected to his majesty.” They were, however, “a part of the Protestant Church established in these kingdoms; they detested the fundamental doctrines of the Church of Rome; and were steadily attached to his majesty’s royal person and illustrious house, and ready to obey him to the uttermost, in all things which they conceived to be agreeable to the written word of God.” “Silver and gold,” he adds, “most of us must own, we have none; but such as we have we humbly beg your majesty to accept, together with our hearts and prayers.” Charles Wesley objected to the sending of this address in the name of the Methodists, because it would constitute them a sect, or at least would seem to allow that they were a body distinct from the national Church. He wished his brother to guard against this, and then, in the name of the Lord, to address the king.[525] Upon further consideration the address was laid aside.

Wesley’s troubles were not ended. On the 20th of March, he received a summons from the Surrey magistrates, to appear at the court at St. Margaret’s Hill. He did so, and asked, “Has any one anything to lay to my charge?” None replied; but, at length, one of the magistrates said, “Sir, are you willing to take the oaths to his majesty, and to sign the declaration against Popery?” Wesley replied, “I am”; which he did accordingly, and was permitted to depart in peace.

Why was this? Besides the general calumny cast upon the Methodists, that they were papists, it was at this time currently reported, that Wesley had recently been seen with the Pretender in France. Might not this be the reason of the unnecessary and annoying summons to appear at St. Margaret’s Hill?

In the same month, a warrant was issued, by a magistrate of the west riding of Yorkshire, to compel the attendance of five witnesses to give evidence at Wakefield, that they had heard Charles Wesley speak “treasonable words, as praying for the banished, or for the Pretender.” At the time appointed, March 15, Charles himself appeared in the magisterial court, and engaged to prove, that all the Methodists, “to a man, were true members of the Church of England, and loyal subjects of his majesty, King George”; and then desired their worships to administer to him the oaths. All the summoned witnesses retracted their accusations; and yet the Methodist itinerant was insulted at the door of the magistrates’ room, for eight long hours, when Mr. justice Burton, with consummate coolness, told him he might go, for they had nought against him. “Sir,” said Charles, “that is not sufficient: I cannot depart till my character is cleared. It is no trifling matter. Even my life is concerned in the charge.” At length, their worships reluctantly acknowledged, in explicit terms, that his “loyalty was unquestionable”; and he took his leave for Birstal, where the Methodists of the neighbourhood met him on a hill, and joined him in singing “praises lustily, and with a good courage.” All this arose out of one of the witnesses having heard him praying, on the 12th of February, that “the Lord would call home His banished”; the words being used, of course, in a sense purely spiritual.

Other inconveniences and acts of violence arose out of the threatened invasion of the French. John Slocomb, a poor baker’s boy, who was now one of Wesley’s preachers in Cornwall, was arrested, under a press warrant, and taken by his own uncle to prison, where he was kept a week, and then brought before the commissioners, who, finding no cause to punish or detain him, were obliged, at last, notwithstanding all their threatenings, to let him go. In Nottingham, two other preachers, John Healey and Thomas Westall, were similarly arrested, the magistrates demanding their horses for the king’s service, and refusing to believe they had none till they sent and searched. The case of John Nelson is known to every one, and will ever stand as one of the most sublime and tragic chapters in Methodistic history. John Downes, another itinerant, while preaching at Epworth, was seized and pressed for the king’s service, and sent as a prisoner to Lincoln gaol. And then, to all these must be added the mournful case of Thomas Beard, a quiet and peaceable man, who was torn from his trade, and wife and children, in Yorkshire, and sent away as a soldier, for no other crime, either committed or pretended, than that of calling sinners to repentance; and who, while lodged in the hospital at Newcastle, died; and, as one of the first martyrs among the Methodists, escaped from his cruel enemies on earth, to the company of the beatified in heaven.

Thus did the hot-headed friends of King George II. do their utmost to make leal Methodists disloyal to the throne and house of Hanover; but the effort failed; for, from first to last, more faithful subjects than Wesley’s followers the throne of England has never had. “It is my religion,” wrote Wesley, more than thirty years after this, “which obliges me to put men in mind to be subject to principalities and powers. Loyalty is with me an essential branch of religion, and which I am sorry any Methodist should forget. There is the closest connection, therefore, between my religious and political conduct; the selfsame authority enjoining me to fear God, and to honour the king.”[526]

Two events occurred, in the year 1744, which deserve special mention: the first Methodist conference, and Wesley’s last university sermon.

The conference began on Monday, June 25, and continued the five following days. It was held at the Foundery, London; and consisted of the two Wesleys, and four other clergymen, namely, John Hodges, Henry Piers, Samuel Taylor, and John Meriton; also of four lay preachers—Thomas Richards, Thomas Maxfield, John Bennet, and John Downes.[527]

Mr. Hodges was the rector of Wenvo, in Wales, a good man, who, from the first, was friendly to the Methodists, and who showed his love for Wesley, in 1758, by writing him a reproof for the tartness of some of his controversial writings, and which Wesley had the honest manliness to publish in his Arminian Magazine.

Mr. Piers has been already noticed. Samuel Taylor was the great great grandson of the celebrated Dr. Rowland Taylor, of Hadleigh, in Suffolk, who was forcibly ejected from his church; whom Gardiner, from the woolsack, addressed as “a knave, a traitor, and a villain”; whom Bonner was about to strike with his crosier, and was only hindered by Taylor telling him he would strike again; and who, amid the tears and prayers of his afflicted flock, was put into a pitch barrel, by the bloodthirsty papists, on the 9th of February, 1555, and was set on fire, one zealous vagabond flinging a fagot at his head, and another impatient ruffian cleaving his skull with a halbert, while he was singing in the flames, “In God have I put my trust, I will not fear what man can do unto me.” The descendant of this brave-hearted martyr partook of his ancestor’s zealous and heroic spirit. He was vicar of Quinton in Gloucestershire; but his heart was larger than his parish. Like Wesley, he went out into the highways and hedges, and was a sharer in the brutal persecutions of Wednesbury, Darlaston, and other places. Richard Whatcoat, one of the first Methodist bishops in America, when a child, sat under his ministry, and received impressions which he never lost.[528] As a preacher, Mr. Taylor was zealous, pathetic, and powerful. He died about the year 1750.[529]

Mr. Meriton had been educated in one of the universities, and was now a clergyman from the Isle of Man.[530] The last years of his life seem to have been chiefly spent in accompanying the two Wesleys in their preaching excursions, and in assisting them in the chapels they had built. He died in 1753.

Of the four lay members of the first Methodist conference, three afterwards left Wesley, and became ministers of other churches. John Downes was the only one who lived and died a Methodist.

The day before the conference commenced was one to be remembered. Besides the ordinary preaching services, a lovefeast was held, at which six ordained ministers were present; and, during the day, the sacrament was administered to the whole of the London society, now numbering between two and three thousand members. At this grand sacramental service five clergymen assisted.

On the day following, the conference was opened, with solemn prayer, a sermon by Charles Wesley, and the baptism of an adult, who there and then found peace with God.[531] The three points debated were:—1. What to teach. 2. How to teach. 3. How to regulate doctrine, discipline, and practice.

In reference to the first point, it was settled that, to be justified is to be pardoned, and received into God’s favour; that faith, preceded by repentance, is the condition of justification; that repentance is a conviction of sin; that faith, in general, is a Divine, supernatural elenchos of things not seen; and that justifying faith is a conviction, by the Holy Ghost, that Christ loved me, and gave Himself for me; that no man can be justified and not know it; that the immediate fruits of justifying faith are peace, joy, love, power over all outward sin, and power to keep down inward sin; that wilful sin is inconsistent with justifying faith; that no believer need ever again come into condemnation; that works are necessary for the continuance of faith, which cannot be lost but for want of them; and that St. Paul and St. James do not contradict each other, when one says Abraham was not justified by works, and the other that he was, because they do not speak of the same justification, and because they do not speak of the same works,—St. Paul speaking of works that precede faith, and St. James of works that spring from it.

The Conference further agreed, that Adam’s sin is imputed to all mankind in the sense, that in consequence of such sin—(1) our bodies are mortal; (2) our souls disunited from God, and of a sinful, devilish nature; and (3) we are liable to death eternal. It was further agreed, that the Bible never expressly affirms, that God imputes the righteousness of Christ to any, but rather, that faith is imputed to us for righteousness. At the same time, the Conference conceived that, by the merits of Christ, all men are cleared from the guilt of Adam’s actual sin; that their bodies will become immortal after the resurrection; that their souls receive a capacity of spiritual life, and an actual spark or seed thereof; and that all believers are reconciled to God and made partakers of the Divine nature.

Sanctification was defined, a renewal in the image of God, in righteousness and true holiness; to be a perfect Christian is to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, implying the destruction of all inward sin; and faith is the condition and instrument by which such a state of grace is obtained.

Proceeding to other matters, the Conference resolved to defend the doctrine of the Church of England both by their preaching and living; to obey the bishops in all things indifferent, and to observe the canons as far as they could with a safe conscience; and, finally, to exert themselves to the utmost not to entail a schism in the Church, by their hearers forming themselves into a distinct sect; though they agreed that they must not neglect the present opportunity of saving souls, for fear of consequences which might possibly or probably happen, after they were dead.

The belief was expressed, that the design of God in raising up the preachers, called Methodists, was to reform the nation, more particularly the Church; and to spread scriptural holiness through the land. It was decided that, wherever they preached, they ought to endeavour to form societies, because where societies were not formed, the preacher would not be able to give proper instructions to them that were convinced of sin; nor the people to watch over one another in love, bear one another’s burdens, and build up each other in faith and holiness. It was stated, that the Methodists were divided into four sections; namely, the united societies, the bands, the select societies, and the penitents. The united societies, who were the most numerous, consisted of awakened persons. The bands were selected from these, and consisted of those who were supposed to have remission of sins. The select societies were taken from the bands, and were composed of those who seemed to walk in the light of God’s countenance. The penitents were those who, for the present, were fallen from grace. After this, the rules of the united societies, and of the bands, were read. The rules of the select societies were the same as those of the bands, with three additions:—1. That nothing spoken in their meetings be spoken again. 2. That every member submit to his minister in all indifferent things. 3. That, till they could have all things common, every member should bring, once a week, all he could spare toward a common stock. The penitents were left without rules.

It was agreed, that lay assistants were allowable only in cases of necessity. They were to expound every morning and evening; to meet the united societies, the bands, the select societies, and the penitents, once a week; to visit the classes once a quarter; to hear and decide all differences; to put the disorderly back on trial, and to receive on trial for the bands or society; to see that the stewards, the leaders, schoolmasters, and housekeepers faithfully discharged their several offices; and to meet the leaders and the stewards weekly, and to examine their accounts. They were to be serious; to converse sparingly and cautiously with women; to take no step towards marriage without first acquainting Wesley or his brother clergymen; and to do nothing as a gentleman, for they had no more to do with this character than with that of a dancing master. They were to be ashamed of nothing but sin; not of fetching wood, or drawing water; not of cleaning their own shoes, or their neighbour’s. They were to take no money of any one, and were to contract no debts without Wesley’s knowledge; they were not to mend the rules, but keep them; to employ their time as Wesley directed, and to keep journals, as well for Wesley’s satisfaction as for profit to themselves.[532]

It was decided, that they should preach most, where those of them who were clergymen could preach in a church; where they could get the greatest number of quiet and willing hearers; and where they had most success. It was agreed, that field preaching had been used too sparingly; that every alternate meeting of the society, in every place, should be strictly private; and that at the other meeting strangers might be admitted with caution, but not the same person above twice or thrice. To improve the usefulness of classleaders, it was resolved that each leader should be diligently examined, concerning his method of meeting a class; that all of them should converse with the preachers, as frequently and as freely as possible; that they should attend the leaders’ meeting every week, bringing notes of all sick persons in their classes; and that none should speak in the leaders’ meeting but the preacher or the steward, unless in answer to a question. The members were to be more closely examined, at the general visitation of the classes; the married men and married women, and the single men and single women were to be met apart once a quarter; and all the members were to be visited at their own houses, at times fixed for such a purpose. Tickets were to be given to none, till they were recommended by a leader with whom they had met three months on trial; and new members were to be admitted into the society only on the Sunday following the quarterly visitation, their names being read on the Sunday night previous. It was agreed, also that it was lawful for Methodists to bear arms; and that they might use the law as defendants, and perhaps in some cases as plaintiffs.[533]

Other regulations were adopted, either at this or ensuing conferences, as follows: preachers were to meet the children in every place, and give them suitable exhortations; they were to preach expressly and strongly against sabbath breaking, dram drinking, evil speaking, unprofitable conversation, lightness, gaiety, or expensiveness of apparel, and contracting debts without sufficient care to discharge them; they were to recommend to every society, frequently and earnestly, the books that Wesley published, as preferable to any other; they were to use their best endeavours to extirpate smuggling, and also bribery at elections; they were to speak to any that desired it, every day after the morning and evening preaching. As often as possible, they were to rise at four o’clock; to spend two or three minutes every hour in earnest prayer; to observe strictly the morning and evening hour of retirement; to rarely employ above an hour at a time in conversation; to use all the means of grace; to keep watchnights once a month; to take a regular catalogue of the societies once a year; to speak freely to each other, and never to part without prayer. They were never to preach more than twice a day, unless on Sundays or extraordinary occasions; to begin and end the service precisely at the time appointed; to always suit their subject to their congregations; to choose the plainest texts possible, and to beware of allegorizing and rambling from their texts. They were to avoid everything awkward or affected, either in phrase, gesture, or pronunciation; to sing no hymns of their own composing; to choose hymns proper for the congregation; not to sing more than five or six verses at a time, and to suit the tune to the nature of the hymns. After preaching, they were recommended to take lemonade, candied orange peel, or a little soft, warm ale; and to avoid late suppers, and egg and wine, as downright poison.[534]

Here we find six clergymen and four lay preachers, not elaborating an ecclesiastical structure, but carefully considering the greatest truths of the Christian religion, and investigating the duties of its preachers. Six days were spent in this important work. They desired nothing, said Wesley, but to save their own souls and those that heard them. Their doctrines, so simple and encouraging, were not the popular theology of the age; but they were in the Scriptures, and what every sinner needed. They little thought, that they were constructing a platform which would survive their times, and originating a long series of annual conferences which would become one of the most important institutions in the world; a central power, conveying religious benefits to every quarter of the globe, and serving as a model for framing other similar institutions both at home and abroad. The doctrines agreed upon are still the staple doctrines of the Methodist communities, and the elements of Methodist discipline may be found in the minutes of this the first Methodist conference.

Leaving Wesley’s first conference, we pass to his last sermon before the university of Oxford.

The day appointed for the sermon was Friday, August 24, the anniversary of St. Bartholomew, and occurred in Oxford race week. The duty came to Wesley by rotation; and had he declined it, he must have paid three guineas for a substitute. We have three accounts of this celebrated sermon. From Charles Wesley we learn, that he and Mr. Piers and Mr. Meriton were present at its delivery; that the audience was a large one, and much increased by the racers; that the congregation gave the utmost attention; that some of the heads of colleges stood during the whole service, and fixed their eyes upon the preacher; and that, after the sermon, the little band of four Methodist clergymen walked away in form, none daring to join them.[535]

Wesley’s own account is as follows:—

“I preached, I suppose the last time, at St. Mary’s. Be it so. I am now clear of the blood of these men. I have fully delivered my own soul. The beadle came to me afterwards, and told me the vice-chancellor had sent him for my notes. I sent them without delay, not without admiring the wise providence of God. Perhaps few men of note would have given a sermon of mine the reading, if I had put it into their hands; but, by this means, it came to be read, probably more than once, by every man of eminence in the university.”[536]

“I am well pleased that the sermon was preached on the very day on which, in the last century, near two thousand burning and shining lights were put out at one stroke. Yet what a wide difference is there between their case and mine! They were turned out of house and home, and all that they had; whereas I am only hindered from preaching, without any other loss; and that in a kind of honourable manner; it being determined that, when my next turn to preach came, they would pay another person to preach for me; and so they did, twice or thrice, even to the time that I resigned my fellowship.”[537]

The third account is by the celebrated Dr. Kennicott, who was, at this period, in the twenty-fifth year of his age, and an undergraduate of Wadham College. He had no sympathy with the Methodists, and yet he appears to have been deeply impressed with Wesley’s sermon. He writes:—

“All that are masters of arts, and on the foundation of any college, are set down in a roll, as they take their degree; and, in that order, preach before the university, or pay three guineas for a preacher in their stead; and as no clergyman can avoid his turn, so the university can refuse none; otherwise Mr. Wesley would not have preached. He came to Oxford some time before, and preached frequently every day in courts, public houses, and elsewhere. On Friday morning, having held forth twice in private, at five and at eight, he came to St. Mary’s at ten o’clock. There were present the vice-chancellor, the proctors, most of the heads of houses, a vast number of gownsmen, and a multitude of private people, with many of Wesley’s own people, both brethren and sisters. He is neither tall nor fat; for the latter would ill become a Methodist. His black hair, quite smooth, and parted very exactly, added to a peculiar composure in his countenance, showed him to be an uncommon man. His prayer was soft, short, and conformable to the rules of the university. His text was Acts iv. 31. He spoke it very slowly, and with an agreeable emphasis.” [Here follows a description of the sermon.] “When he came to what he called his plain, practical conclusion, he fired his address with so much zeal and unbounded satire as quite spoiled what otherwise might have been turned to great advantage; for, as I liked some, so I disliked other parts of his discourse extremely. I liked some of his freedom, such as calling the generality of young gownsmen ‘a generation of triflers,’ and many other just invectives. But, considering how many shining lights are here, that are the glory of the Christian cause, his sacred censure was much too flaming and strong, and his charity much too weak in not making large allowances. But, so far from allowances, he concluded, with a lifted up eye, in this most solemn form, ‘It is time for Thee, Lord, to lay to Thine hand;’ words full of such presumption and seeming imprecation, that they gave an universal shock. This, and the assertion that Oxford was not a Christian city, and this country not a Christian nation, were the most offensive parts of the sermon, except when he accused the whole body (and confessed himself to be one of the number) of the sin of perjury; and for this reason, because, upon becoming members of a college, every person takes an oath to observe the statutes of the university, and no one observes them in all things. Had these things been omitted, and his censures moderated, I think his discourse, as to style, and delivery, would have been uncommonly pleasing to others as well as to myself. He is allowed to be a man of great parts, and that by the excellent Dean of Christ Church (Dr. Conybeare); for the day he preached, the dean generously said of him, ‘John Wesley will always be thought a man of sound sense, though an enthusiast.’ However, the vice-chancellor sent for the sermon, and I hear the heads of colleges intend to show their resentment.”[538]

This obnoxious sermon was published a few weeks after it was preached, and was advertised in the October magazines, price sixpence.[539] Another edition was issued in the same year, at Newcastle on Tyne, 12mo, eighteen pages.

In a preface to the reader, Wesley says, that he never intended to print the latter part of the sermon; but “the false and scurrilous accounts of it which had been published, almost in every corner of the nation, now constrained him to publish the whole, just as it was preached, that men of reason might judge for themselves.”

The sermon has three divisions, and considers Christianity under three distinct aspects—(1) As beginning to exist in individuals. (2) As spreading from one to another. (3) As covering the earth. Of these nothing need be said. That which gave offence was the “plain, practical application,” which is quite one third of the entire discourse. The following extracts will show what it was that gave the offence which Oxford authorities never pardoned; and also the fidelity and Christian courage of the preacher in uttering such sentiments before such a congregation.

“I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God, if ye do account me a madman or a fool, yet as a fool bear with me. It is utterly needful, that some one should use great plainness of speech towards you. It is more especially needful at this time; for who knoweth but it is the last? And who will use this plainness, if I do not? Therefore I, even I, will speak. And I adjure you, by the living God, that ye steel not your hearts against receiving a blessing at my hands.

“Let me ask you then, in tender love, and in the spirit of meekness, Is this city a Christian city? Is Christianity, scriptural Christianity, found here? Are we, considered as a community of men, so filled with the Holy Ghost as to enjoy in our hearts, and show forth in our lives, the genuine fruits of that Spirit? Are all the magistrates, all heads and governors of colleges and halls, and their respective societies, (not to speak of the inhabitants of the town,) of one heart and soul? Is the love of God shed abroad in our hearts? Are our tempers the same that were in Christ? And are our lives agreeable thereto?

“In the fear, and in the presence of the great God, before whom both you and I shall shortly appear, I pray you that are in authority over us, whom I reverence for your office sake, to consider, Are you filled with the Holy Ghost? Are ye lively portraitures of Him whom ye are appointed to represent among men? Ye magistrates and rulers, are all the thoughts of your hearts, all your tempers and desires, suitable to your high calling? Are all your words like unto those which come out of the mouth of God? Is there in all your actions dignity and love?

“Ye venerable men, who are more especially called to form the tender minds of youth, are you filled with the Holy Ghost? with all those fruits of the Spirit, which your important office so indispensably requires? Do you continually remind those under your care, that the one rational end of all our studies is to know, love, and serve the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He hath sent? Do you inculcate upon them, day by day, that without love all learning is but splendid ignorance, pompous folly, vexation of spirit? Has all you teach an actual tendency to the love of God, and of all mankind for His sake? Do you put forth all your strength in the vast work you have undertaken—using every talent which God hath lent you, and that to the uttermost of your power?

“What example is set them” [the youth] “by us who enjoy the beneficence of our forefathers,—by fellows, students, scholars,—more especially those who are of some rank and eminence? Do ye, brethren, abound in the fruits of the Spirit,—in lowliness of mind, in self denial and mortification, in seriousness and composure of spirit, in patience, meekness, sobriety, temperance, and in unwearied, restless endeavours to do good, in every kind, unto all men? Is this the general character of fellows of colleges? I fear it is not. Rather, have not pride and haughtiness of spirit, impatience and peevishness, sloth and indolence, gluttony and sensuality, and even a proverbial uselessness, been objected to us, perhaps not always by our enemies, nor wholly without ground?

“Many of us are more immediately consecrated to God, called to minister in holy things. Are we then patterns to the rest, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity? From what motives did we enter upon this office? Was it with a single eye to serve God? Have we clearly determined to give ourselves wholly to it? Do we forsake and set aside, as much as in us lies, all worldly cares and studies? Are we apt to teach? Are we taught of God, that we may be able to teach others also? What are the seals of our apostleship? Who, that were dead in trespasses and sins, have been quickened by our word? Have we a burning zeal to save souls from death; so that, for their sake, we often forget even to eat our bread?

“Once more, What shall we say concerning the youth of this place? Have you either the form or the power of Christian godliness? Are you humble, teachable, advisable? or stubborn, self willed, heady, and high-minded? Are you obedient to your superiors as to parents? Or do you despise those to whom you owe the tenderest reverence? Are you diligent in pursuing your studies with all your strength, crowding as much work into every day as it can contain? Rather, do you not waste day after day, either in reading what has no tendency to Christianity, or in gaming, or in—you know not what? Do you, out of principle, take care to owe no man anything? Do you remember the sabbath day to keep it holy? Do you know how to possess your bodies in sanctification and in honour? Are not drunkenness and uncleanness found among you? Yea, are there not of you, who glory in their shame? Do not many of you take the name of God in vain, perhaps habitually, without either remorse or fear? Yea, are there not a multitude of you that are forsworn? Be not surprised, brethren; before God and this congregation, I own myself to have been of that number; solemnly swearing to observe all those customs, which I then knew nothing of; and those statutes, which I did not so much as read over, either then or for some years after. What is perjury, if this is not?

“May it not be one of the consequences of this, that so many of you are a generation of triflers? triflers with God, with one another, and with your own souls? How few of you spend, from one week to another, a single hour in private prayer? How few have any thought of God in the general tenour of your conversation? Can you bear, unless now and then, in a church, any talk of the Holy Ghost? Would you not take it for granted, if one began such a conversation, that it was either hypocrisy or enthusiasm? In the name of the Lord God almighty, I ask, What religion are you of? Even the talk of Christianity ye cannot, will not bear. O my brethren! What a Christian city is this? It is time for Thee, Lord, to lay to Thine hand.

“For indeed, what probability, what possibility is there, that Christianity, scriptural Christianity, should be again the religion of this place? that all orders of men among us should speak and live as men filled with the Holy Ghost? By whom should this Christianity be restored? By those of you that are in authority? Are you desirous it should be restored? And do ye not count your fortune, liberty, life, dear unto yourselves, so ye may be instrumental in restoring it? But suppose ye have this desire, who hath any power proportioned to the effect? Perhaps some of you have made a few faint attempts, but with how small success? Shall Christianity then be restored by young, unknown, inconsiderable men? I know not whether ye yourselves would suffer it. Would not some of you cry out, ‘Young man, in so doing thou reproachest us’? But there is no danger of your being put to the proof; so hath iniquity overspread us like a flood. Whom then shall God send? The famine, the pestilence, or the sword, the last messengers of God to a guilty land? The armies of the Romish aliens, to reform us into our first love? Nay, rather, let us fall into Thy hand, O Lord, and let us not fall into the hand of man!”

This is not only the substance, but nearly the whole of the “plain, practical application,” that created so much offence. Who can find fault with it? Rather, who will not commend the bold preacher, who, in such yearning accents, gave utterance to truths of the highest consequence, but which perhaps no one but himself, in such a congregation, durst have uttered? Would to God that pulpits had more of this courageous, pitying fidelity, at the present day! Is it not a fact, that preaching now-a-days consists so much of polite and pious platitudes, that, so far from saving souls, it is almost powerless? The age is too refined to tolerate preachers of the stamp of Luther, Knox, and Wesley. The words of the prophets are, in this pretentiously polite period of the church’s history, well worth pondering: “They have healed the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace; when there is no peace.” “This is a rebellious people, lying children, children that will not hear the law of the Lord; which say to the seers, See not; and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto us right things; speak unto us smooth things; prophesy deceits.”

It was Wesley’s fidelity, far more than the novelty of his doctrines and proceedings, that brought upon him the persecutions he encountered. Of these, he and the Methodists had already had their share; but the vials of the people’s wrath were far from being emptied. The outrages in Staffordshire and other places have been already mentioned. “In Cornwall,” says Wesley, “the war against the Methodists was carried on with far more vigour than that against the Spaniards.” “At St. Ives,” writes Henry Millard, “the word of God runs and is glorified; but the devil rages horribly.” At Camborne, Thomas Westall was pulled down while preaching in Mr. Harris’s house; was carried to Penzance, where Dr. Borlase wrote a “mittimus” committing him to the house of correction at Bodmin as a vagrant; and here he was kept till the next quarter sessions, when the justices, then assembled, knowing a little more of the laws of God and man than Dr. Borlase and his Penzance confrères, declared his commitment to be illegal, and set him at liberty. “For what pay,” asks Wesley, justly proud of his preachers, “could we procure men to do this service,—to be always ready to go to prison or to death?” Dr. Borlase was a man of unquestioned sense and learning; but he was a bigot of the purest water. On his asking Jonathan Reeves to point him out a man who had been the better for hearing the Methodists, Jonathan pointed to John Daniel, then before him. “Get along,” cried the doctor. “Get along; you are a parcel of mad, crazy headed fellows;” and taking them by the shoulders, he thrust them to the doors. After this, we find him issuing warrants for the apprehension of Methodists; sending Thomas Maxfield to be a soldier; and signing a warrant for the arrest of Wesley himself; yet all this was not sufficient to prevent Wesley rendering to the Cornish bigot his due share of literary praise. “I looked over,” writes Wesley, in 1757, “Dr. Borlase’s Antiquities of Cornwall. He is a fine writer, and quite master of his subject. He has distinguished, with amazing accuracy, the ancient Saxon monuments from the more ancient Roman, and from those of the Druids, the most ancient of all.”[540] The doctor died in 1772.

Dr. Borlase was not alone; for his brother clergymen raged against the Methodists without measure, and, in their sermons, retailed the grossest lies concerning them. A poor woman complained to the mayor of St. Ives of some one throwing a huge stone into her house, which fell on a pillow within a few inches of her suckling child. His worship damned her, and said she might go about her business. One of the clergy told Jonathan Reeves, he wished the Bible were in Latin only, so that none of the common people could read it.[541] The mob at St. Ives saluted Wesley with stones and dirt; and pulled down the meeting-house, “for joy that Admiral Matthews had beat the Spaniards.” It was a gratifying fact, however, that, notwithstanding the fierceness of the Cornish persecution, not more than three or four of the Methodists turned cowardly deserters, while the rest, instead of being shaken, were confirmed in their principles by the violence of their enemies.

The press was still vigorously employed. An anonymous pamphlet, entitled “Observations upon the Conduct and Behaviour of a certain Sect usually designated by the name of Methodists,” 4to, pages 24, was written by Dr. Gibson, and obtained considerable approval from his brother bishops.[542] In this prelatical publication, the Methodists are charged with setting government at defiance, by appointing public places of religious worship, and by preaching in the open air, without taking the prescribed oaths, and subscribing the declaration against Popery. They broke the rules of the church of which they professed themselves members, by going to other than their own parish churches to receive the sacrament. Their doctrines and practices were a dis-service to religion—1. Because they set the standard of religion so high, that some were led to disregard religion altogether. 2. Because they carried the doctrine of justification by faith alone to such a height, as not to allow that the observance of moral duties is a condition of being justified. 3. Because a due attendance on the public offices of religion answered the purposes of devotion better than the “sudden agonies, roarings, screamings, tremblings, ravings, and madness of the Methodists.” 4. Because their exalted strains of religion led to spiritual pride, and to contempt of their superiors. In short, the irregular practices of the Methodists were of the like nature as those which had so great a share in bringing in the religious confusions of the last century.

Whitefield replied to this pamphlet in two small quarto tracts, of fourteen and twenty-four pages respectively. This evoked “A Serious and Expostulatory Letter,” by the Rev. Thomas Church, M.A., vicar of Battersea, and prebendary of St. Paul’s;[543] and also another letter, of fifty pages, “by a Gentleman of Pembroke College, Oxford.” In the latter production, the Methodists are censured for “suffering their heated imaginations to mount to such an exalted pitch, that it hurries them out of their senses, evaporates the religious spirit, and leaves nothing but sensuality in the heated machine.” Whitefield’s answer to “Observations on the Conduct and Behaviour of the Methodists” is politely said to be “stuffed with the coaxing and wheedling of the woman, the daring of the rebel, the pertness of the coxcomb, the evasions of the jesuit, and the bitterness of the bigot.” It is unblushingly affirmed, that the Methodists “can curse, rail, and berogue their antagonists, though in Scripture language, so as hardly to be exceeded by any pope, or spiritual bully, that ever yet appeared in Christendom.” They are a “rag-tag mob,” using “lascivious and blasphemously languishing expressions when they talk of the Redeemer’s love.” “They cant and blaspheme the Holy Spirit, and appeal to starts and sallies of flesh and blood for the inspiration of the Holy One.” They are “a set of creatures of the lowest rank, most of them illiterate, and of desperate fortunes; cursing, reviling, and showing their teeth at every one that does not approve of their frenzy and extravagance.” Whitefield was “crafty and malicious enough to be suspected of any wicked enterprise,—a person of wicked principles, travelling over all counties, to establish newfangled societies”; and he and his friends were “heads and spiritual directors of hot-brained cobblers, all big with venom against the clergy of the Established Church.” The author “trembles and shudders,” lest the Methodists should be “betrayed, by their feelings and stretchings, into a bed of eternal fire and brimstone, appointed for the reception of the lewd, the concupiscent, and the blasphemous.”

These are fair specimens of the foul foamings of this valiant defender of Church and state.

Another pamphlet, published in 1744, was “A Charge against Enthusiasm,” delivered, in several parts of his diocese, by the Bishop of Lichfield; and the object of which was to prove that “the indwelling and inward witnessing of the Spirit in believers’ hearts, as also praying and preaching by the Spirit, are all the extraordinary gifts and operations of the Holy Ghost, belonging only to the apostolical and primitive times, and that, consequently, all pretensions to such favours in these last days are vain and enthusiastical.”

Another, published at a shilling, was “Remarks on Mr. J. Wesley’s last Journal, by Thomas Church, A.M.,”[544] the prebendary of St. Paul’s already mentioned. Mr. Church sums up his charges against Wesley thus: “It is impossible for you to put an entire stop to the enormities of the Moravians, while you still (1) too much commend these men; (2) hold principles in common with them, from which these enormities naturally follow; and, (3) maintain other errors more than theirs, and are guilty of enthusiasm to the highest degree.” Mr. Church’s “Remarks,” however, will have to be noticed in the next chapter.

In addition to all this foam and fury against the Methodists, must be mentioned an equally vile attack of another kind. At the Brecon assizes, held in the month of August, the grand jury deemed it their duty to make a presentment to the presiding judge to the following effect: “that the Methodists held illegal meetings,” and that their “preachers pretended to expound the Scriptures by virtue of inspiration”; that, by this means, “they collected together great numbers of disorderly persons, very much endangering the peace of our sovereign lord the king; and that, unless their proceedings were timely suppressed, they might endanger the peace of the kingdom in general.” At all events, “the pretended preachers, or teachers, at their irregular meetings, by their enthusiastic doctrines, very much confounded and disordered the minds of his majesty’s good subjects”; and this, “in time, might lead to the overthrowing of our good government, both in Church and state.” Finally, the judge is requested, if the authority of the present court was not sufficient for the purpose, to apply to some superior authority, in order to put an end to the “villainous scheme” of “such dangerous assemblies.”[545]

Thus had Methodism to make its way through the opposition of vulgar mobs, fiery priests, lampooning pamphleteers, unjust magistrates, and grand juries. Gamaliel’s advice was set aside: “Refrain from these men, and let them alone; for if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought: but if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it; lest haply ye be found even to fight against God.”

Wesley’s longest journey, in 1744, was from London to Cornwall, thence to Newcastle, and thence to London. Nearly three months were spent upon this evangelistic tour: many hundreds of miles were traversed, not by rail, or even in stage coaches, but on horseback, over the most miserable roads, the rider sometimes battered with rain and hail for hours together, and at others plunging through drifts of snow enough to engulf both man and beast. About a hundred sermons were preached: some, at Gwennap and at St. Stithian, to thousands upon thousands of attentive hearers; some in public houses; some on village greens; and a few in parish churches.

One of the churches Wesley was permitted to occupy was at Laneast, in Cornwall, of which Mr. Bennett was the aged clergyman. Another was at Landau, in Wales. “Such a church,” says Wesley, “I never saw before. There was not a glass window belonging to it; but only boards, with holes bored here and there, through which a dim light glimmered. Yet even here the light of God’s countenance has shone on many hearts.” In the former of these churches a strange scene was witnessed in the month of August. Charles Wesley was preaching “against harmless diversions,” having three clergymen, Messrs. Meriton, Thompson, and Bennett, among his auditors. “By harmless diversions,” exclaimed the preacher, “I was kept asleep in the devils arms, secure in a state of damnation, for eighteen years.” No sooner were the words uttered than Meriton added aloud, “And I for twenty-five!” “And I,” cried Thompson, “for thirty-five!” “And I,” said Bennett, the venerable minister of the church, “and I for above seventy.”

Strange and stirring incidents came across Wesley’s path. In his father’s church, at Epworth, he heard Mr. Romley preach two of the bitterest and falsest sermons he ever listened to. On proceeding to Syke House, some of his friends met him and said a drunken mob was awaiting his arrival, who would press all the men in the congregation for soldiers. Others declared, the mob was just about to fire the meeting-house, or pull it to the ground. Wesley calmly answered, “Our only way is to make the best use of it while standing;” and, accordingly, he entered it at once, and expounded the tenth chapter of Matthew. At Durham, he met John Nelson and Thomas Beard, at that time with their regiment, and took them to his inn, and said, “Brother Nelson, lose no time; speak and spare not, for God has work for you to do in every place where your lot is cast; and when you have fulfilled His good pleasure, He will burst your bonds asunder, and we shall rejoice together.”[546] At Chinley, in Derbyshire, lived a poor widow, of the name of Godhard, with a family of four small children. At her request, Wesley made Chinley a resting place, and preached. Finding the widow’s house too small, he stood upon a chair near to a miller’s dam. The miller, enraged at Wesley and his congregation daring to worship in such proximity to his premises, let off the water for the purpose of drowning Wesley’s voice. The effort was a failure; truth triumphed; Chinley became a Methodist preaching place; and, in order to provide the preachers when they called with a cup of tea, the poor widow and her children set apart the whole of every Friday night for winding bobbins, depositing the earnings, as a sacred treasure, in an old pint mug, and never touching them except to meet the necessities of Wesley’s itinerants when paying their gospel visits.[547]

Already Wesley’s lay preachers had become a considerable host. In different parts of the kingdom there were, at least, forty of these devoted evangelists.[548] Some of them, as John Brown, of Newcastle, David Taylor, John Downes, John Nelson, William Shepherd, John Slocomb, Thomas Westall, Thomas Beard, John Haime, Thomas Richards, John Bennet, and Thomas Maxfield, have been already mentioned. Besides these, there were—John Haughton, originally a weaver, who, whilst the mob, in the city of Cork, were burning Wesley in effigy, threw up the window and began to preach to the people in the street; and who, afterwards, obtained episcopal ordination and settled in the sister country;—Jonathan Reeves, who was with Wesley when he laid the first stone of the Orphan House at Newcastle, and who, after passing through a great amount of persecution, became an ordained minister of the Church of England, preached in London, and died in 1778, testifying that all his hope was in Christ Jesus;—Enoch Williams, pious, deeply devoted to his work, faithful and successful, and brought to an untimely grave in 1744;—Thomas Williams, extremely popular as a preacher; but haughty, revengeful, headstrong, and unmanageable; a great favourite among the London young ladies; but a maligner of the two Wesleys; expelled in 1744, but taken back on declaring, before many witnesses, that the slanders he had propagated against Wesley and his brother were grossly false; the man who introduced Methodism into Ireland in 1747, but who was again expelled from the Methodist society in 1755; and then, through the Countess of Huntingdon, obtained episcopal ordination, and for several years acted as a clergyman in the neighbourhood of High Wycombe;—Thomas Meyrick, a native of Cornwall, educated for the law, a poet, but expelled from the Methodist connexion in 1750, after which he became a clergyman of the Established Church, and died, we fear, a drunkard, at Halifax, in 1770;—John Trembath, one of Wesley’s most courageous preachers, though somewhat vain and stubborn; then a farmer and a fibber; and, for a long series of years, an impoverished vagabond, who died about 1794;—Alexander Coates, a poor Scotch “laddie,” fond of books, who could speak in Gaelic, read with fluency in Dutch and Danish, and had some acquaintance with Hebrew, Greek, and Latin; the honoured instrument in the conversion of Mr. Crosse, the well known Bradford vicar; one of the best of men, and a most useful preacher, who died, at Newcastle, in 1765, in perfect peace;—William Darney, another Scotchman, honest, bold, impetuous, a rhymer, and painfully eccentric, but who was used by Providence in converting Grimshaw, and who prided himself upon never “dabbing people with untempered mortar”;—Nicholas Gilbert, a man of deep piety, and of great simplicity, possessed of considerable talents, and pronounced by Wesley “an excellent preacher”;—Samuel Larwood, who in 1754 became a Dissenting minister in the borough of Southwark;—James Jones, one of the first fruits of Wesley’s ministry in Staffordshire, as bold as a lion, and who built, at his own expense, the first Methodist chapel at Tipton Green;—Joseph Jones, who left the itinerancy in 1760, became a farmer in the county of Somerset, and acted as a local preacher to the end of life;—Herbert Jenkins, who afterwards became one of Whitefield’s preachers, and laboured in the Tabernacle connexion;—John Maddern, a man of genuine piety, and a lively, zealous preacher;—Henry Millard, who, after narrowly escaping a violent death at the hands of a Cornish mob, fell a victim to an attack of small pox, in 1746;—William Prior, of whom Charles Wesley, in a manuscript letter now before us, dated 1755, writes: “William Prior is ordained, without learning, interest, or aught but Providence to recommend him”;—Robert Swindells, a man of great benevolence, who was never heard to speak an unkind word of any one, had no enemy, and died full of days, riches, and honour in 1783;—James Wheatley, of Norwich notoriety, where he was often dragged by the hair of his head through the streets of the city, built a large chapel, and became immensely popular, but who ultimately died, beneath a cloud, in Bristol;—Francis Walker, a native of Tewkesbury, pious, honest, and upright, his talents small, but his preaching lively, zealous, and useful, an instrument of great good to souls wherever he went, and who settled in the city of Gloucester, where he died in peace. And to all these must be added William Biggs, Thomas Crouch, John Hall, Thomas Hardwick, Francis Scott, David Tratham, Thomas Willes, and William Holmes.

Little more remains to be related concerning the year 1744. The Newcastle society was increasingly earnest, there hardly being a trifler left. The society at Bristol was not so perfect as it should have been, many of the members crying out, “Faith, faith! Believe, believe!” but making little account of the fruits of faith, either of holiness or good works. The London society was poor, but generous. At a single collection, in the month of February, they contributed nearly fifty pounds to relieve the destitute around them, and which Wesley at once laid out in buying clothes for those whom he knew to be diligent and yet in want. A month later, they made a second collection of about thirty pounds. A month later still, a third collection of about six-and-twenty pounds; and to these three collections were added ninety pounds more in the shape of private subscriptions; making altogether £196 raised by the poor London Methodists, and employed in providing clothing for three hundred and sixty persons.

Already some of Wesley’s people began to profess Christian perfection; but he was extremely cautious in receiving their testimony. At the end of the year, he writes:—

“I was with two persons who believe they are saved from all sin. Be it so, or not, why should we not rejoice in the work of God, so far as it is unquestionably wrought in them? For instance, I ask John C——, ‘Do you always pray? Do you rejoice in God every moment? Do you in everything give thanks? In loss? In pain? In sickness, weariness, disappointments? Do you desire nothing? Do you fear nothing? Do you feel the love of God continually in your heart? Have you a witness in whatever you speak or do, that it is pleasing to God?’ If he can solemnly and deliberately answer in the affirmative, why do I not rejoice and praise God on his behalf? Perhaps, because I have an exceeding complex idea of sanctification, or a sanctified man. And so, for fear he should not have attained all I include in that idea, I cannot rejoice in what he has attained.”

This is significant language. Wesley preached the doctrine; but he was slow to believe those who professed to experience it; and it is a fact more remarkable, that, so far as there is evidence to show, Wesley never, to the day of his death, professed as much as this himself. Hundreds, if not thousands, of his followers did; perhaps he himself was restrained from doing so, by a dislike to high profession, or by a conscientious fear, that he hardly reached the standard above set up.

The thing occasioned him great anxiety. A short time before his death, he wrote as follows:—

“Four or five and forty years ago, I had no distinct views of what the apostle meant by exhorting us to ‘leave the principles of the doctrine of Christ, and go on to perfection;’ but two or three persons in London, whom I knew to be truly sincere, desired to give me an account of their experience. It appeared exceeding strange, being different from any that I had heard before. The next year, two or three more persons at Bristol, and two or three at Kingswood, coming to me severally, gave me exactly the same account of their experience. A few years after, I desired all those in London who made the same profession, to come to me all together at the Foundery, that I might be thoroughly satisfied. I desired that man of God, Thomas Walsh, to give us the meeting there. When we met, first one of us, and then another, asked them the most searching questions we could devise. They answered every one without hesitation, and with the utmost simplicity, so that we were fully persuaded, they did not deceive themselves. In the years 1759 to 1762 their numbers multiplied exceedingly, not only in London and Bristol, but in various parts of Ireland as well as England. Not trusting to the testimony of others, I carefully examined most of these myself; and, in London alone, I found 652 members of our society who were exceeding clear in their experience, and of whose testimony I could see no reason to doubt. I believe no year has passed since that time, wherein God has not wrought the same work in many others; and every one of these (without a single exception) has declared, that his deliverance from sin was instantaneous; that the change was wrought in a moment. Had half of these, or one third, or one in twenty, declared it was gradually wrought in them, I should have believed this, with regard to them, and thought that some were gradually sanctified and some instantaneously. But as I have not found, in so long a space of time, a single person speaking thus, I cannot but believe, that sanctification is commonly, if not always, an instantaneous work.”[549]

This is a subject of vast importance, and will often recur in future pages. Meanwhile, all will give Wesley credit for the utmost sincerity, though some may doubt whether human experience is, in itself, sufficient to settle and decide Christian doctrine.

Wesley’s pen was, if possible, more busily employed than ever; not so much in composing original productions, as in abridging and revising the works of others. During the year 1744, he published the following:—

1. The sermon preached before the Oxford university on August 24.

2. An Extract from his Journal, from November 1, 1739, to September 3, 1741. With prefatory Letter to the Moravian Church, dated June 24, 1744; and two hymns annexed, on “The Means of Grace,” and “The Bloody Issue,” both having reference to the Moravian controversy.

3. The Rules of the Band Societies. These, as we have already seen, were read at the conference held in June. During the year, they were published in the form following:—“The Nature, Design, and General Rules of the United Societies, in London, Bristol, Kingswood, and Newcastle upon Tyne. The fourth edition. To which are subjoined the Rules of the Band Societies. London: printed by William Strahan. 1744.” 12mo, twelve pages. The Rules of the band societies were the same as those which Wesley had drawn up for the Moravian bands, in 1738. The band society members were composed, as previously stated, of persons who professed to have obtained the forgiveness of sins. They were middle class Methodists; that is, in a more advanced state than the members of the “United Societies,” but not so advanced as the “Select Societies.” The questions to be proposed to every one before he was admitted were to the following effect:—1. Have you forgiveness of sins? 2. Peace with God? 3. The witness of the Spirit? 4. Is the love of God shed abroad in your heart? 5. Has no sin dominion over you? 6. Do you desire to be told of your faults? 7. Do you desire we should tell you whatsoever we think, fear, or hear concerning you? 8. Is it your desire and design, on this and all other occasions, to speak everything that is in your heart, without exception, without disguise, and without reserve?

The propriety of such questions will be doubted, and especially of other five which had to be proposed at every meeting, and which have been given in a previous chapter. (See page 210.) It would have been no loss to Methodism or to the religious world, if these queries, first drawn up by Wesley on Christmas day, 1738, had been allowed to slumber in the shades of Moravian oblivion. At present, they are never used; and though, in the first instance, they might be adapted to the Moravian brotherhood, they are far too inquisitorial for Methodists.

The bands had to meet once a week; and were bound to observe the following “Directions”:—

I. To abstain from evil, especially buying or selling on the sabbath; tasting spirituous liquors; pawning; backbiting; wearing needless ornaments, as rings, earrings, necklaces, lace, and ruffles; and taking snuff or tobacco.

II. To maintain good works,—especially almsgiving; reproving sin; together with diligence, frugality, and self denial.

III. To use all the ordinances of God; especially service at church, and sacrament once a week; likewise every public meeting of the bands; the ministry of the word every morning; private prayer every day; reading the Scriptures at every vacant hour; and observing all Fridays in the year as days of fasting or abstinence.

4. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1744, was “Modern Christianity exemplified at Wednesbury, and other adjacent places in Staffordshire.” 12mo, twenty-eight pages. The substance of this pamphlet has been already given in the account of the Staffordshire riots; but the prayer at the end of it is too remarkable to be passed without notice. The following is an extract:—

“Lo, I come, if this soul and body may be useful to anything, to do Thy will, O God. If it please Thee to use the power Thou hast over dust and ashes, here they are to suffer Thy good pleasure. If Thou pleasest to visit me either with pain or dishonour, I will humble myself under it, and, through Thy grace, be obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Hereafter no man can take away anything from me, no life, no honour, no estate; since I am ready to lay them down, as soon as I perceive Thou requirest them at my hands. Nevertheless, O Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from me; but if not, Thy will be done.”

What was the spirit of the ancient martyrs if this was not?

5. A fifth publication, “Hymns for Times of Trouble and Persecution” (12mo, forty-seven pages), was issued in the names of “John and Charles Wesley” unitedly. It contains thirteen hymns for times of trouble; sixteen for times of persecution; and four to be sung in a tumult.

The remainder of Wesley’s publications, during the present year, were collections or abridgments of the works of other authors, namely:—

1. “A Collection of Moral and Sacred Poems from the most celebrated English authors.” Three volumes, 1024 pages, in 12mo. The work is dedicated to “the right honourable the Countess of Huntingdon.” Wesley truly observes, that there is nothing in the collection “contrary to virtue; nothing that can in any way offend the chastest ear, or give pain to the tenderest heart. Whatever is really essential to the most sublime divinity, as well as the purest and most refined morality, will be found therein. The most just and important sentiments are here represented with all the ornaments both of wit and language, and in the clearest, fullest, strongest light.”

“There is,” writes Mr. Marriott,[550] “a circumstance little known regarding this ‘Collection.’ A few months after the publication of these volumes, Dodsley (the publisher) called upon Wesley for reparation of a piracy, which the latter had unwittingly committed, and for which he agreed to pay him £50.” This was done on February 8, 1745, by payment of a £20 bank note, and a cheque for £30, payable in three months.

2. “A Brief Account of the occasion, process, and issue of a late Trial at the Assize held at Gloucester, 3rd March, 1743. Between some of the people called Methodists, Plaintiffs, and certain Persons of Minchinhampton, in the said county, Defendants. Extracted from Mr. Whitefield’s Letter. By John Wesley.” Twelve pages, 12mo.

This was a sort of companion tract to “Modern Christianity at Wednesbury.” Appended is “a prayer for his majesty King George,” in ten verses of four lines each, which, in a somewhat altered form, is now the 465th hymn in the Methodist Hymn-Book.

3. “A Collection of Prayers for Families.” 12mo, 24 pages.

Wesley considered family religion as indispensable to the preservation and extension of the work of God. Some of the first Methodists neglected it; and, as a consequence, their children shook off all religion and abandoned themselves to wickedness.[551] “Family religion,” said Wesley, twenty years after this, “is the grand desideratum among the Methodists.”[552]

To promote this, Wesley published his “Prayers for Families,” in 1744. The prayers are only fourteen in number; that is, a prayer for every morning and every evening during a single week; but anything more devout, scriptural, appropriate, and religiously rich it would be difficult to conceive.

4. “The Case of John Nelson, written by himself. Published by John Wesley.” 12mo, 36 pages.

5. “An Extract of Count Zinzendorf’s Discourses on the Redemption of Man by the Death of Christ.” 12mo, 78 pages.

These loosely worded “Discourses,” sixteen in number, were first published in 1740, in 12mo, two hundred and two pages. They were all founded upon Luther’s explanation of the second article of the Apostles’ creed; “I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son our Lord.”

6. “A Serious Call to a Holy Life. Extracted from a late author.” 12mo, 230 pages. This was an abridgment of the well known work of William Law, and was printed by John Gooding, of Newcastle upon Tyne. It consists of nineteen chapters, dwelling on Christian devotion; the duties of all orders and ranks of men and women, of all ages, to practise it; the happiness arising from doing so; and recommendations in reference to it.

It is impossible to give the reader, by any brief description here, an adequate idea of this powerful and pungent book. He must read it for himself. When will the young people of the present day, imbibing the froth of sensational writing, learn that books, like wine, are none the worse for being old?

7. “The Life of God in the Soul of Man; or, the Nature and Excellency of the Christian Religion.” 12mo, forty-eight pages.

This was an extract from an excellent treatise, written by the Rev. Henry Scougal, a Scottish minister, who died at the early age of twenty-eight, in the year 1678. The book breathes the sublimest piety; and, in style, is pure and elegant.

8. “The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God. Extracted from Mr. Edwards, minister of Northampton, in New England.” 12mo, 48 pages.

By publishing this calm, pointed, argumentative treatise, Wesley made its sentiments his own; and, from it, the reader may easily infer what were Wesley’s opinions respecting the religious revival with which he and his contemporaries were connected. (See page 218.) The following is a synopsis of the answers to objections.

It is no sign, that a work is not Divine, because it is carried on in a way unusual and extraordinary. The Spirit is sovereign in His operations. We ought not to limit God where He has not limited Himself. Neither is a work to be judged by any effects on the bodies of men; such as tears, trembling, groans, loud outcries, agonies, or faintings; for there is reason to believe, that great outpourings of the Spirit, both in the prophetic and apostolic ages, were not wholly without these extraordinary effects. The same is true respecting religious commotion among the people, for this is the natural result of such a work. Further, though many of the converts may be guilty of great imprudences and irregularities, neither is this a sign that the work is not the work of God; for, in a mixed multitude of wise and unwise, young and old, all under powerful impressions, no wonder that some should behave themselves imprudently. It was thus in the apostolic churches, and this is not unlikely to continue while weakness is one of the elements of human nature. There may be errors in judgment, and some delusions of Satan intermixed with the revival; but that is not conclusive evidence, that the work in general is not the work of the Holy Ghost. Some may fall away into scandalous practices; but, if we look into church history, we shall find no instance of a great revival of religion but what has been attended with such relapses. The work may have been promoted by ministers strongly preaching the terrors of the law; but what of that? If there really be a hell of dreadful and never ending torments, ought not those exposed to it to be earnestly warned of their fearful danger? For ministers to preach of hell, and warn sinners to avoid it in a cold, careless, hesitating manner, is to contradict themselves, and to defeat their own purposes. The manner in which the thing is said is, in such a case, more effectual than the words employed. It may be unreasonable to think of frightening a man to heaven; but it is not unreasonable to endeavour to frighten him away from hell.

Such, in substance, were the sentiments to which Wesley affixed his imprimatur in 1744,—sentiments still worth pondering, because always true.

Great revivals may be, often are, and perhaps must be, attended with circumstances which enlightened and sober minded Christians dislike; but rather than be without revivals, where is the man who loves Christ and the souls of sinners, who would not gladly crucify his own dislikes?

Twelve months after this, in the year 1745, Wesley, appealing to men of reason and religion, who were in doubt, whether the revival then vouchsafed was the work of God, observed:—“You have all the proof of this you can reasonably expect or desire. That, in many places, abundance of notorious sinners are totally reformed, is declared by a thousand eye and ear witnesses both of their present and past behaviour. What would you have more? What pretence can you have for doubting any longer? Do you delay fixing your judgment till you see a work of God, without any stumbling block attending it? That never was yet, nor ever will. ‘It must needs be that offences will come.’ And scarce ever was there such a work of God before, with so few as have attended this.”[553]

1745.

[Sidenote: 1745 Age 42]

Whitefield, during the whole of the year 1745, was in America. Charles Wesley spent about thirty-eight weeks in London; and about fourteen in Bristol, Wales, and the west of England. Wesley himself was nearly five months in London and its vicinity; about a month in Bristol and the neighbourhood; two months were spent in a tour to Cornwall; and four months in two journeys to Newcastle and the north of England.

Persecution somewhat abated, especially in the form of printed attacks and scandals; not because Methodism was less hated, but because the attention of the country was turned to the dangers arising from the invasion of the popish Pretender.

In Cornwall, however, Thomas Maxfield was seized for a soldier, and was put into the dungeon at Penzance. Edward Greenfield, of St. Just, a tanner, with a wife and seven children, was arrested under a warrant signed by Dr. Borlase. Wesley asked what objection there was to this peaceable and inoffensive man. The answer was, “The man is well enough in other things; but the gentlemen cannot bear his impudence. Why, sir, he says he knows his sins are forgiven.” This Cornish persecution was principally promoted by men like Borlase and Eustick. The latter came with a warrant for Wesley’s arrest; but sneaked away from its execution, like a blustering poltroon. While Wesley was preaching at Gwennap, two men, raging like maniacs, rode into the midst of the congregation, and began to lay hold upon the people. In the midst of the disturbance, Wesley and his friends commenced singing; when Mr. B. lost his patience, and bawled to his attendants, “Seize him, seize him. I say, seize the preacher for his majesty’s service.” The attendants not moving, he cursed them with the greatest bitterness, leaped off his horse, caught hold of Wesley’s cassock, crying, “I take you to serve his majesty.” Wesley walked with him for three quarters of a mile, when the courage of the bumptious bravo failed him, and he was glad to let the poor parson go. The day after this ignoble capture, Wesley was at Falmouth, where the rabble surrounded the house in which he was lodging, and roared, “Bring out the Canorum! Where is the Canorum?” (an unmeaning word which the Cornish generally used instead of Methodist.) They then forced open the outer door, and setting their shoulders to the inner one, cried out, “Avast, lads, avast!” Away went all the hinges; Wesley stepped into the midst of the privateering mob, and asked one after another, “To which of you have I done any wrong? To you? Or you? Or you?” All seemed speechless, until, thus questioning his furious assailants, Wesley found himself in the open street, where he cried to the assembled crowd, “Neighbours, countrymen! Do you desire to hear me speak?” “Yes, yes,” they answered vehemently; “he shall speak, he shall; no one shall hinder him!” Meanwhile, Mr. Thomas, the clergyman, and some other gentlemen came up; Wesley was rescued; his horse was sent before him to Penryn; he was despatched by water; and an item of nine shillings and some odd pence appeared in the parochial accounts “for driving the Methodists out of the parish.”[554]

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us