THE REFORMING TENDENCY.
I had a third tendency which helped to get me into trouble; namely, a
reforming tendency. Earnest and active-minded young men are generally
reformers. In me the reforming tendency was unusually strong. I wanted
to reform everybody and everything, and to do it thoroughly, and without
delay. And I commenced operations very early.
1. It was the custom of my class-leader to read over to his class once a
quarter the rules of society, and to request the members, if they were
aware of any breach of any of the rules by any of the members, to name
the matter as he proceeded. Now one of the rules forbade the putting on
of gold or costly apparel; yet several of the members of our class put
on both. So when he came to that rule, I asked why it was not enforced.
The leader seemed confused. One of the offenders was the wife of one of
the travelling preachers, and another was the wife of an influential
layman, and both were customers at his store, and he had never
entertained a thought, I imagine, of running the risk of offending them
by rebuking them for their offences; so he muttered something in the way
of excuse and then passed on. The truth was, that the rule, though
copied from the New Testament, and regarded by Mr. Wesley as of great
importance, was no longer considered binding either by the preachers or
the leading members. The reading of the rules in the class was merely a
form, and my remarks, instead of inducing my offending class-mates to
return to the old Methodist custom, only caused them and those who sided
with them, to look on me as a troubler of Israel.
2. I got myself into a little trouble on a later occasion at a local
preachers' meeting. It was the custom at those meetings for the
superintendent preacher to read over the names of the local preachers,
and to request any brother who knew of any breach of rule by any of his
brethren, to name the matter. When the name of Mr. H. was read over, I
stated that he had been guilty of evil speaking against one of his
brethren. I gave the particulars, and the offence was acknowledged, but
the offending brother was not without excuse, and the business of the
meeting proceeded. But there was a very strong feeling in the minds of
many that such attempts as I was making to press neglected rules on the
attention of the meeting, ought not to be encouraged; and my endeavors
to enforce consistency brought down upon me many sharp rebukes.
3. Among the books that I read in those early days was _Mason on
Self-knowledge_. I found some excellent remarks on temperance and
frugality in this work. I met with some similar remarks in translating
portions of the writings of Seneca and Cicero. In a conversation that I
had with one of the travelling preachers, and a person that was
supplying the place of another travelling preacher, I quoted the
beautiful sentiments which I had been reading and translating, and added
some remarks of my own, with a view to recommend attention to the
lessons they inculcated. The travelling preacher remained silent, but
his companion answered me with a scornful laugh, and said, there was no
need to urge such matters on them, for they had not the _means_ to be
anything else but frugal and temperate. This was neither true nor
courteous, and though I made no answer, it left an impression on my mind
by no means favorable to the wisdom and piety of those who, at that
time, were placed over me as my teachers and guides.
4. Though I met with such poor encouragement in my early efforts to
reform or check abuses among my brethren, I still persisted in my
course, even after I became a travelling preacher. It was the custom of
the richer members of society to have large parties, to which they
invited each other and the preachers and their families. At many of
these parties there was a good deal of drinking, and a serious waste of
money on many things that were not only useless but injurious. And each
family tried to outdo the rest in the costliness of their parties. I
regarded this custom as anti-Christian, and tried to get it changed for
something better. I thought the money wasted on drink and hurtful
luxuries would be better spent in doing good. In some cases I referred
to the words of Christ about making feasts, recorded in Luke xiv. 12-14;
but no one seemed to think Christ's rule to be binding on professing
Christians now. Even my brother ministers thought me needlessly
particular, and helped to render my efforts for reform both
unsuccessful, and productive of disagreeable results.
5. The custom of treating the rich who came to our chapels with more
respect than the poor, was as prevalent probably when I became a
minister, as it was in the days of James. I often saw the officials of
the church conducting gaily-dressed people to comfortable pews, while
they left such as were poorly clad to stand in the aisles, or to find
their way into seats themselves; and on some occasions I showed my
dissatisfaction with such proceedings.
6. It was customary to have society meetings in each place once a
quarter, and at these meetings I used to refer to what I thought amiss
in the conduct of professors, and to urge attention to such lessons of
Christ and His Apostles as seemed to be generally overlooked or
forgotten. On some occasions too on week nights, instead of preaching a
regular sermon, I used to give a kind of lecture or exhortation, in
which I presented a summary of neglected duties, and read over the
passages of Scripture in which they were enjoined, making remarks on
them. There were many matters pertaining to marriage, to the education
and government of children, and to domestic duties generally; and there
were matters pertaining to trade, to social intercourse, to mental
improvement, and the like, on which preachers, as a rule, were entirely
silent in their sermons, from the beginning of the year to the end. Yet
many of these matters were of the utmost importance, and for want of
information on them many religious people were neither so happy
themselves, nor so useful to others, as they ought to be. On these
matters I spoke in as plain and faithful a way as possible. I cautioned
the young against wasting their time, advised them to spend their
leisure hours in reading and writing, told them what books to read, and
how to read them, showed them the most profitable plan of reading the
Bible, warned them against bad company, and advised them not to spend
too much time even in good company. I urged them, if they thought of
being preachers, to endeavor to be preachers of the highest order,
workmen that needed not to be ashamed, rightly distributing the word of
truth. And whether they thought of being preachers or not, I urged them
to improve their talents, and to become as wise, as able and as useful
as possible. Many were delighted, and reduced my lessons to practice.
Others however took offence, and repaid my endeavors to do them good
with uncharitable censures.
7. It was the custom in the Body to which I belonged to keep the doors
of the annual conference closed against all but those who were sent as
delegates by the circuits. I and a few others thought this course led to
inconsiderate, and, in some cases, to unjust and oppressive measures,
and in 1835 I wrote a letter on the subject to the _Christian Advocate_.
My remarks were not agreeable to the leading members of conference, and
I was instantly called to account and severely censured, and threatened
with the heaviest punishment if ever I offended so grievously again. The
reason why my letter proved so offensive was probably its truthfulness,
for the change I recommended was afterwards adopted, though not till the
old objectionable system had produced most disastrous consequences.
8. One rule of the Connexion to which I belonged forbade the preachers
to marry till after they had been engaged in the ministry from four to
five years or upwards. This regulation seemed to me to be the cause of
serious evils. Some of these evils I had myself experienced, and others
I had seen in the conduct and mishaps of many of my brethren. The reason
assigned for the law seemed to me to be not only insufficient, but to be
a disgrace to a body of Christians situated as _we_ were. I urged an
alteration or a repeal of the law, recommending conference to take out
the best and ablest men as ministers, whether they were married or not,
and to allow such ministers as were single to marry whenever they
thought fit, and to urge the churches to provide for the additional
expense of married preachers by a little additional liberality. There
were members that wasted as much on one foolish and mischievous party,
as would have made up the difference between a single man's salary and a
married man's salary. There were members that spent as much in
intoxicating drinks as would have kept a married preacher or two out and
out. There were tradesmen that could have supported five or six
preachers out of their yearly profits, if they had been as liberal as
the old selfish Jews were required to be. If they had been as liberal as
_Christians_ are required to be,--if they had loved their neighbors, or
Jesus, or God, as they loved themselves, they could have supported
twenty preachers, and still retained enough to keep their families in
comfort and plenty, and to carry on and extend their businesses too. To
shut good men out of the ministry because they were married, and take in
doubtful men because they were single, was, in my view, disgraceful and
inexcusable. But in this also I was considered wrong by the rulers of
the Connexion, and was once more censured and admonished for what was
considered my presumptuous interference.
9. Fifty years ago, and for some years after, almost everybody used to
drink intoxicating drinks. Ale and beer, wine and spirits, were as
freely used as tea and coffee, and were taken in great quantities by
many even in the church and ministry. I remember once, while yet a local
preacher, going round with Mr. Etchells, a new minister in my native
town, on his first pastoral visits, to show him where the principal
members of the church lived. He was invited to drink at every house, and
never failed to comply with the invitations. I saw him drink sixteen
glasses of beer, wine and spirits, on that one round, occupying only two
or three hours. This same minister prosecuted Mr. Farrar, his
superintendent, for drunkenness, and got him suspended. Whether his
superintendent drank more than he or not, I do not know, but he did not
keep up appearances so well. He showed himself drunk in the pulpit,--so
drunk, on one or two occasions, that he was unable to speak plainly, or
even to stand steadily. He also fell down in the streets sometimes, and
had to be carried home. His colleague did not commit himself in such
ways, though he drank enough at times in one day to make half a dozen
sober people drunk.
The leading member in the Methodist church, Richard Wilson, opened the
first wine and spirit store at Bramley, and corrupted the whole country
round with his wares, doing far more for the devil and sin than the
preachers could do for God and holiness. Yet no one seemed to think
there was anything dishonorable or diabolical in the business.
At a social party to which I was invited at Leeds, consisting of
preachers and leading members of the church, one man, a preacher, got so
drunk, that he became a most distressing spectacle. I cannot describe
his mishaps. There were others who ought to have committed themselves in
the same sad way, for they drank as much, and even more, but they had
stronger constitutions, or were better seasoned.
At Liverpool, my first station, every one on whom the preachers called
in their pastoral rounds, asked them to drink. Even Dr. Raffles, the
popular Congregational minister, had wine and cakes brought out, when I
and my superintendent called on him one morning. Wine and cakes, or
cakes and spirits, were placed on the table by all who were not too poor
to buy such things, and even the poorer members contrived to supply
themselves with rum or whisky. And all expected the preachers to drink.
And the preachers did drink. Mr. Allin, my superintendent, was not by
far the greatest drinker in the Connexion, yet he seldom allowed the
poison placed before him to remain untasted. I was so organized, that I
never could drink a full glass of either wine or ale without feeling
more or less intoxicated, and for spirits I had quite a distaste; so
that I was obliged to take intoxicating drinks very sparingly. Yet I
conformed, to some extent, to the prevailing custom; and it was not, I
fear, through any great goodness of my own, that I did not become a
drunkard. Several of my fellow-ministers became drunkards. Mr. Allin
himself, after he fell under the influence of that bad rich man at
Sheffield became a drunkard, and brought on shocks of paralysis by his
excesses. My superintendent at Sheffield drank himself into _delirium
tremens_, and I fear he never got over his bad habits. Mr. Chapman was a
notorious sot. I knew him personally, and was compelled, at times, to
witness his disgusting habits. Yet he was never expelled, though he was
superannuated some forty years or more before his death. His
superannuation reduced his income some seventy-five per cent., and made
it impossible for him to drink so freely as he had been wont, and so,
very probably, helped to prolong his miserable life.
While stationed at Liverpool, I was called away to supply the place of
the superintendent preacher in the Chester circuit for a few weeks, who
had died very suddenly, under very peculiar circumstances. His name was
Dunkerley. I was told by persons likely to know the truth, that he was a
very drunken man. On one occasion, while he was over at Liverpool, he
fell down in the Theatre Square, and had to be taken up and carried into
a neighboring shop. At first it was supposed he had had a fit; but a
little further attention to the case revealed the secret that he was
drunk. On another occasion, on his return from Liverpool to Chester, he
was observed, when he got off the coach, to stagger backwards and fall
down. Some friends that were waiting for his arrival, ran and helped him
up, and took him to a member's house just by. He was found to be drunk
then also. The members spoke to him on the subject, and reproved him
sharply, and then put him to bed. The Tuesday night following, the
matter was mentioned at the leaders' meeting, when he was present. The
leaders told him that such conduct could not be tolerated, and that
unless a change took place for the better, the matter would have to be
laid before the Quarterly Meeting. The preacher acknowledged his fault,
and promised, if they would forgive him that once, that he would do so
no more. I believe that from that time he gave up the use of
intoxicating drinks for a week or two; but shortly after, having to go
to the Welsh side of the Circuit, he began to use them again. At one of
the places on that side of the Circuit, the leaders were accustomed to
have their meetings in a room in a public-house, near the Chapel, and to
lodge the preacher there. Perhaps poor Dunkerley thought it would hardly
look right for him to be accommodated at a public-house with a bed, and
yet take nothing to drink; so he got some gin. The relish for the gin
must have returned upon him with great power when he began to taste it,
for he drank very freely. He drank so much, that the publican himself
began to feel alarmed for him. A short time after he had gone up stairs
to bed, the people of the house heard a noise of an unusual character in
his room, and on going to see what was the matter, they found the
preacher on his knees, in an apoplectic fit, the blood gushing from his
nose and ears. He died the same evening. He died drunk.
It was this man's place that I went to supply. I do not wonder now that
Dunkerley and several other preachers in the New Connexion were
drunkards, when I take into consideration the customs and habits of the
people of the Connexion in those days. I never met with anything in any
society, that I recollect, more at variance with the principles of
Christian temperance, and more likely to lead both preachers and people
into drunkenness and profligacy, than the habits and customs of many of
the members of the New Connexion in the Chester circuit. In the first
place they were all users of intoxicating drinks, and all those that
were in tolerable circumstances regularly kept spirits as well as
milder, weaker kinds of intoxicating drinks in their houses. In the next
place a preacher could never call at the houses of those people,
whatever the time of day, without being urged to drink of either the
stronger or weaker kinds of intoxicating drinks. And he could hardly
refuse to drink without seeming to slight the kindness of the people,
and running the risk of giving offence. In the third place they were
very much addicted to extravagant social parties, pleasure jaunts, &c.
They were worse than the people of Leeds in this respect; unless they
were worse than usual while I was there. All the time that I was in
Chester, there was not a single week or day when they had not either
some dinner-party or tea-party, or both, or else some pleasure jaunt on
the water or on land. And those pleasure parties and feasts were always
occasions of extravagant eating and drinking. Besides abundance of flesh
and game, and other luxuries, there was always an overwhelming supply of
intoxicating drinks, and great quantities were consumed. I have seen men
on those occasions drink five, six, eight, or even ten glasses of wine
or spirits, besides drinking ale, or porter, or wine at meals. I
recollect very distinctly seeing a person, and that a preacher, drink,
in addition to what he consumed over his meal, ten glasses of Port wine
between dinner and tea, after which he went to preach.
Religious society was not quite so corrupt in the principal towns of the
Hanley circuit, where I was next stationed, as at Liverpool and Chester,
yet there was a fearful amount of respectable intemperance there. There
was no end to the feasting. And as I, though so young, was very popular,
I was always expected to be present. The luxuries in which I indulged
brought on indigestion. Indigestion, and close study, and hard work in
the pulpit, brought on a most wearisome languor and depression. To help
me, one rich friend sent me a bottle of Sherry wine. Another sent me
Elderberry wine. These made me worse. It was well this mistaken kindness
did not ruin me. But I was preserved, thank God, both from death and
drunkenness.
For two years more I was in the midst of these awful temptations to
intemperance, and a witness to their deadly effects on several of my
brethren. I felt that I was in danger. And I saw that the church was
suffering. I looked round for a remedy.
Just then there came rumors of a temperance society, and of attempts at
a temperance reformation. One of our young preachers had joined this
new society, and had labelled his whisky and brandy _medicine_. He left
his beer, and porter, and wine, unlabelled, and drank them as freely as
before. The people who told me of this, ridiculed the man, and ridiculed
the movement for temperance reform. I was rather pleased with the news,
though news of a more thorough movement might have pleased me better.
But the beginnings of things are small. The movement soon became radical
enough, and I kept pace with it.
In 1832 I gave up the use of ardent spirits, and became a member of the
old-fashioned temperance society. In 1833 I gave up the use of
intoxicating drinks of all kinds, and joined the teetotal society. In
1834 I gave up the use of tobacco. A few months later I gave up tea and
coffee, and took water as my usual drink.
These changes in my way of life gave great offence to many in the church
to which I belonged, and led them to speak of me, and act towards me, in
a way that was anything but kind and agreeable. This was especially the
case with regard to my disuse of intoxicating drinks, and my advocacy of
teetotalism. I might have been borne with perhaps if I had become a
drunkard; for drunkards were in some cases tolerated; but a teetotaler
was not to be endured. Some called me a fool, and some a madman, and one
man pronounced me no better than a suicide and a murderer. "You will be
dead," said he, "in twelve months, if you persist in your miserable
course, and what will become of your wife and children? And what account
can you give of the people you are leading to untimely death by your
example?" One person at Chester, at whose house I had visited some years
before, when supplying the place of the deceased minister, would neither
invite me to his house, nor speak to me in the street, except in the way
of insult, now that I had become a teetotaler. He said no one should
ever sit at his table who would not take a glass of wine. And I never
did sit at his table after. He invited my colleagues, and he invited the
old superannuated minister, whose character I cannot describe, but he
never invited me.
One object that I had in view in adopting my abstemious way of life was
to save a little money to buy books. I had become an author too, and
had thoughts of publishing a number of works, and I wanted to be able to
do so without having to go into debt. Then I wanted to do good in other
ways. I liked to be able to give a little to the distressed and needy
that I was called upon to visit. And I liked to subscribe occasionally
to funds for the erection of new schools and chapels in circuits where I
was stationed. Among my reasons for becoming a teetotaler was a desire
to induce others to do so, who seemed to me to be likely, if they
continued to use intoxicating drinks, to become drunkards. Then I had
seen the terrible effects of the drinking system, both in the Church and
among my relations. And I was anxious for the success of every kind of
measure that seemed likely to promote the reformation and salvation of
mankind.
10. I had not been a teetotaler long before I became anxious to see my
brethren in the ministry teetotalers. I wrote a letter to the
_Temperance Advocate_, giving an account of the experiment I had made,
and stating the happy results by which it had been followed, and urging
others, by all the considerations that had influenced my own mind, to
adopt and advocate the teetotal principle. Mr. Livesey sent a copy of
the _Advocate_ containing my letter to all the ministers of the Body to
which I belonged. There were but few of them however who seemed to be
able to enter into my views and feelings, or to understand and
appreciate the motives by which I was actuated. The generality looked on
the course I had taken as a proof of a restless and ill-regulated mind,
and instead of following my example, treated me and my teetotalism with
ridicule. Some were angry, and scolded me in right good earnest. They
supposed that it was _I_ that had sent them the Paper containing my
letter, and seemed to think themselves called upon to resent my
interference with their tastes and habits in a very decided manner.
Several of them sent me very offensive letters, and one of them
concluded a long outpouring of abuse and insolence with some very
cutting but just remarks on my inconsistency in pressing abstinence from
intoxicating drinks so earnestly on others, while I myself was guilty of
the unreasonable and offensive practice of smoking tobacco.
I had long had misgivings as to the propriety of smoking, and when I
read this cutting rebuke, I resolved to smoke no more. I said to my
wife, "They shall not be able to charge me with inconsistency again on
that score," and I there and then broke my pipe on the grate, and
emptied my tobacco cup into the fire, and I have never annoyed others,
or defiled myself, with the abomination of tobacco smoke or tobacco
spittle from that day to this. My angry correspondent had done me an
important service.
11. I met with some of the bitterest and most persistent enemies of
teetotalism in the circuit in which I was then travelling. There were
several members of society, class-leaders, and local preachers, in and
around Chester, who were slaves to intoxicating drinks. Some of them
were habitual drunkards, and others of them were not much better; and
they treated all who would not countenance their excesses as personal
enemies. Many of them were accustomed to go to public houses, and sit
there drinking and smoking for hours together, like ordinary drunkards.
This horrible habit they gave up shortly after my appointment to the
circuit, but several of them raged against me with tremendous fury, and
would have done anything to destroy my influence. At first they were
kept in check to some extent by the wisdom and goodness of my
superintendent, who, though he did not become a teetotaler himself,
showed great respect for those who did. When he left Chester, a man of a
very different character came in his place, who sided with the drinkers,
and took a savage delight in annoying the teetotalers, and exulted as if
he had achieved some wonder of benevolence and piety when he had induced
some poor reformed drunkard to break his pledge, though he plunged again
into the horrors of intemperance. I called one forenoon on Mr. Downs. He
was frantic, and his wife was wild with anxiety and terror. She seemed
as if she had been awake and weeping all the night. I soon saw the cause
of the dreadful spectacle. Downs had been a drunkard, but had, under my
influence, become a teetotaler, and joined the church. His wife had been
a member of the church for some years. She was overjoyed with the
reformation and conversion of her husband, and was promising for herself
and her husband, for the future, a very happy life. My superintendent
had got poor Downs into his company, and by reasoning, ridicule, and
coaxing, had induced him to take a glass of ale. His horrible appetite
for intoxicating drink returned with irresistible force, and he drank
himself drunk. He went home in a very deplorable condition. His wife,
distressed beyond measure, got him to bed, and he fell asleep, and she,
poor woman, sat watching him, and weeping, hoping he might wake to
lament his error and become again a sober man. He awoke in a fury, and
attempted to destroy himself. He was mad with shame and horror, and
declared he could not and would not live. When I entered, his wife had
been watching him and struggling with him for several hours, to keep him
from suicide. I just got in in time to save the man, and relieve his
exhausted wife, and I was enabled to reconcile the man to live a little
longer, and try teetotalism again. My misguided superintendent never
attempted to reason with me, but when he thought he had a chance of
punishing me for my teetotalism, he snatched at the apparent opportunity
with the greatest eagerness.
One week night, when appointed to preach in Chester Chapel, I gave the
people a sermon on temperance. Some days after, I was summoned to a
meeting of officials, to give an account of my doings. I attended. My
superintendent, the bitter enemy of teetotalism, was in the chair, and
on each side of him sat a number of men of similar feelings, and of
grosser habits. I was told there was a complaint against me, to the
effect that the last time I was at Chester I had preached teetotalism
instead of the Gospel. I said, "Is that all?" And they answered "Yes."
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourselves," I said, and left the
meeting. What they did after my departure I was never told.
One man in that neighborhood circulated a report that I had asked my
mother-in-law, who had been staying some time at our house, to have a
glass of brandy and water, when she was leaving for home in the coach.
This slander was refuted by a deputation, who at once visited my
mother-in-law, and brought back from her a flat contradiction of the
statement.
I ought to say, that while I was in this circuit, hundreds of drunkards
were reformed, many of whom became happy, exemplary, and useful members
of the Church. I was the means of tens of thousands becoming teetotalers
in the country round about, and the happy effects of my labors in those
regions remain, to some extent, to the present day.
12. In 1837, while I was stationed in the Mossley Circuit, I began a
weekly periodical called the _Evangelical Reformer_. I had long wished
for a suitable means of laying my views before my friends, but had found
none. The editor of the magazine published by the Body to which I
belonged was a very disagreeable man, and to me he was more
unaccommodating and offensive than to others. He would have published
articles under my name, but not till he had altered them, and made them
conformable to his own ideas and tastes. And this was more than I could
endure. There was another periodical which I could use, and had used
occasionally, but it lent itself to ill-disposed people as a vehicle of
slander, and I had ceased to feel myself at liberty to give it my
countenance. With a small periodical of my own I could communicate with
my friends at pleasure, and I used my _Evangelical Reformer_ for this
purpose with great freedom. I published my views on temperance, on
marriage, on trade, on education, on dress, on diet, on religious
parties, on books and reading, on the use of money, on the duty of the
Church to support its poor members, on toleration and human creeds, and
on a multitude of other subjects, and urged on the churches a reform on
all these points. My freedom of expression soon brought me into fresh
trouble. An article which I published on "Toleration and Human Creeds,"
was considered by some of my brethren to be highly objectionable and
dangerous, and was brought before Conference. Conference was pressed by
many to condemn the article, and to show its disapprobation of it by
punishing the author. Others entreated that Conference should spare the
author, lest mischief should follow, and content itself with privately
expressing disapprobation of the article. The latter parties prevailed;
but their moderation was made of no effect by the editor of the magazine
who wickedly published the obnoxious resolution to the world, and so
rendered it necessary for me to write again on the subject, to defend
myself and my article. The result was a controversy between me and some
of my brethren, which led at length to the most serious consequences.
Another article was objected to by many of my brother ministers. A
draper, a leading member of the society at Ashton, published a circular,
announcing the winter fashions, and sent copies to members of my
congregation, pressing them to go and purchase his wares, many of which
were both costly and useless. I copied this circular into my periodical,
and advised my readers to disregard its counsels, and to spend their
money like Christians. I added some remarks on the inconsistency of
professing Christians urging people, even in the way of trade, to waste
their Master's money on things forbidden by His word. This article
created a great amount of excitement, and some would fain have had it
censured by Conference, along with the other article; but they were not
allowed to have their way.
Both my periodical and my other publications were favorably received,
and had a large circulation, and my opponents thought they gave me too
much power, and made me dangerous; and this became the occasion of
further unpleasantness. On the other hand the magazine had but a poor
circulation, and the Book-room, though it had a large amount of capital,
did but a very limited business; and I suggested reforms with a view to
render them more useful. I urged an improvement of the magazine, and the
publication of cheap books, with a view to supply useful reading to the
members of the churches, and to people generally. All these propositions
proved unpalatable to the easy-going officials, and brought on me fresh
trials.
13. Again; the standard of morality was low in many of our societies,
and I pleaded for the enforcement of Christian discipline. Some of our
members were brewers, some publicans, some spirit-merchants, some
beer-shop keepers. Old Mr. Thwaites was a publican. His son, who was
both class-leader and local preacher, was both a drink-seller and a
pawnbroker. And I am not certain that pawnbroking in England is not as
bad a business as drink-selling. The two are nearly related and are fast
friends. Drunkenness leads to pawnbroking, and pawnbroking helps
drunkenness. Timothy Bentley, one of the greatest brewers in England,
the poisoner-general both of the souls and bodies of the immense
population of my native county, was a Methodist class-leader at
Huddersfield. I once met in his class. He was a most venerable and
saintly-looking man, and stood in high repute. I regarded these
businesses as anti-christian, and contended that those who persisted in
them after due admonition, should be expelled.
The businesses named above were not the worst. Some members of society
were wholesale panders. Take the following facts. When I was sent to
Liverpool I had a young man, whose name I need not give, for a
bed-fellow. He was a draper, and his customers were unfortunate women.
He sold to them on trust, and went round weekly to collect his money.
His father, who was a leading man in the society, and his brothers, were
in the same way of business. Another man who was a leading member and an
official, followed the same dishonorable occupation. It was usual with
those people, when their wretched customers were turned out of their
houses by their landlords, to provide them with fresh houses, and even
to supply them with furniture. When fairs or races were at hand, they
supplied them with extra dresses and ornaments, to enable them to ply
their horrible trade to better advantage. These facts I had in part from
my bed-fellow, and in part from the people in whose house he kept his
shop, and with whom I lived. When I came to know these things I was very
uneasy; and on finding that it was unsafe to sleep with my bed-fellow, I
got fresh lodgings. This vexed my bed-fellow and all his family, and
made them my enemies. I spoke of these things to my superintendent, but
he advised me to be cautious what I did and said in reference to such
matters. And he told me a story that he had met with in a work on the
ministry by an American, which he had just been reading. This author
said, that out of fifty ministers whom he had known expelled from their
holy office, only one or two had been expelled for immoral conduct or
gross inconsistency: all the rest had been discarded on account of
imprudences. This was meant to deter me from interfering either by word
or deed with faulty members of society. And he backed his ungodly
counsel by as bad an example. For he not only left those wicked people
to pursue their evil courses undisturbed, but visited at their houses,
allowed his family to receive presents from them, and, when he was
leaving the circuit, did himself accept from their unclean hands a
portion of their filthy gains, in the shape of a testimonial of their
respect for his great abilities and distinguished virtues. This person,
whose general conduct was much in keeping with the facts I have given
above, though he was the foremost minister in the Connexion, proved my
most persistent adversary in after life, and never rested till he had
brought about my expulsion from the ministry.
14. I will mention another affair to show what notions certain members
of the church had of what was required of Christians in reference to
business matters. I bought some handkerchiefs of a man, a member of
society, in Chester, on his assurance that they would wash. When we
washed them they came to pieces. I asked the man afterwards if he was
aware when he sold the handkerchiefs that they were rotten. He said he
was. "Then why did you sell me them?" I asked. He said he had bought
them for good ones himself, and that he could not afford to lose what he
had given for them. I wanted such people to be dealt with according to
the rules of Christian discipline.
15. There were many other sad facts, far more than I have either time or
disposition to mention, which forced themselves on my notice, and
obliged me, in conscience, to plead and labor for reform. There seemed a
dreadful distance between the character of Christ and the character of
the Church; and I wished to make it less. How far I erred in my efforts
to bring about this desirable result, and how far I acted wisely, it is
not for me to say. I know that my object was good, and that the course I
took was the one that seemed best to me at the time; but it is probable
that some would have gone about the work in a wiser way. I never
excelled in certain forms of prudence. I was prone to speak forth my
thoughts and feelings without much consideration and with but little
reserve; and I often used the plainest and even the strongest words. I
was too open. My heart was too near my mouth. I thought aloud. And I was
not sufficiently tender of people's feelings. Nor did I make sufficient
allowance for their prejudices and imperfections. I probably expected
too much from men. And some of the reforms which I proposed might at
the time be impracticable. I was accustomed to muse very much on the
teachings of Christ and His Apostles, and to image to myself a state of
things in the Church which, though very desirable, was probably
unattainable, except through many slow preliminary changes. I wished for
a church "without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing,"--a church that
should set forth and carry out the highest principles of Christian
purity and charity--and that was a blessing to be looked for not in the
present, but in the future only.
16. Then I had but little knowledge of human nature, either in its
regenerate or unregenerate state. I over-rated men's virtues, and
under-rated their defects. I trusted them too much and feared them too
little. I took all who put on a fair appearance, for friends, and
imparted to them the innermost thoughts of my soul. And many proved
unworthy of my confidence. And I often over-rated men's talents or
capabilities. I was not aware of the infinite difference in men's
powers. I thought all my brethren in the ministry, and almost all my
brother Christians, were capable, under proper culture, of being made as
wise, as able, as eloquent, as the most distinguished in the Church. I
was not aware that some men were naturally palm-trees, and others only
brambles; that some were pearls, and others only pebbles; and that these
constitutional differences were unalterable. Hence I expected too much
of some, and was too impatient perhaps when disappointed. I erred with
regard both to men and institutions, and my colleagues were often
offended with what they deemed my unreasonable expectations and demands.
17. But in truth, it is not necessary for reformers to err, in order to
give offence. The best and wisest One that ever appeared on earth gave
offence to those who were wedded to error and abuses. A Christian
reformer can never please the "earthly, the sensual, and the devilish."
The history of Christ and of Paul has settled that. A Christian reformer
never does the right thing in the estimation of the idle, the selfish,
the corrupt: and if he does, he never does it at the right time, or in
the right way. He always meddles too early, or too late; and he always
goes too fast, or too slow; and he always does too much, or too little.
He interferes with their ease, their interests, and their pleasures,
and that is enough. They will, in return, endeavor to destroy his
influence, if not to take away his life. They will impute to him the
vilest motives. They will stick at no lie, no wrong, that seems likely
to damage his reputation. They will magnify his innocent weaknesses or
trifling inconsistencies, and represent them as gross and unpardonable
faults. If he is faithful they will call him rash; if he is prudent they
will call him hypocritical; and they will labor in every way to awaken
against him distrust and prejudice in the minds of the better-disposed
among their brethren.
And many of the better-disposed themselves often see what tries them
greatly in the character and doings of reformers. It is the natural
tendency of the reforming spirit to lead a man to look too much at what
is amiss in men and systems, and too little at what is right and
praiseworthy. It is what is amiss that _wants_ reforming, so he fixes
his mind on that, and makes it the constant subject of his conversation.
And so it was with myself no doubt to some extent. And this, to men of
conservative tendencies, who look more at the good and less at the evil
in the men and systems with which they are connected, seems a grievous
fault, an inexcusable piece of injustice, deserving the severest
censure. And they repay it with the sternest condemnation.
And conservatives can be as blind or one-sided as the most eager
reformers. They can shut their eyes to what is evil, or treat great
abuses as excusable trifles; while they magnify what is good beyond all
bounds. And when they get excited or vexed they can be as unjust towards
the reformer, as the most rabid reformer can be towards them or their
pet institutions. And there are few things fiercer than the fire of
bigotry, even in minds not destitute of piety. The truth is, when men
wax hot, either in favor of reform or against it, justice is forgotten,
and kindness and courtesy are out of the question.
And so it was in the controversies which arose out of my efforts at
reform. I was assailed both by the malignity of the corrupt, and by the
bigotry of the misguided. I was hated by the bad, and dreaded by some of
the good, and abused and persecuted by both. And some of my enemies had
neither mercy nor moderation. They pressed matters to the most terrible
extremes.
And I was not sufficiently on my guard. Instead of possessing my soul in
patience, and casting my care on God, I allowed their persecutions to
increase the bitterness of my unhappy feelings, and render my ultimate
separation from them inevitable.
18. There were several other matters which had something to do in
causing unpleasant feelings between me and a number of my brethren.
It fell to my lot to be unusually popular. I became so at a very early
period. I was, in consequence, often invited by other circuits to preach
their special sermons, and I frequently accepted those invitations. Some
of my superintendents were annoyed at this, and showed their displeasure
in very offensive ways. While I was in Hanley circuit my superintendent
called a meeting of a number of leading friends, before which I was
summoned to appear. There my acceptance of invitations to preach
occasional sermons was charged against me as an offence, and I was
ordered not to _go_ into other circuits any more, without the consent of
my superintendent. I offered no objection to this. My superintendent
next charged me with having a number of objectionable books in my
library. He had requested the woman at whose house I lodged to show him
into my room during my absence, and there he had found the works of
Shakespeare, Barrow, Tillotson, and Paley, and some volumes of poems by
Lord Byron. The meeting advised me to get rid of Shakespeare and Byron,
and to be careful how I used the works of Barrow, Tillotson, and Paley,
as they were not Methodistical, and my great concern, it was said,
should be to excel as a teacher and defender of Methodism. With this
recommendation I could not entirely comply. I retained my Shakespeare; I
have him yet. And I read the works of Tillotson, Barrow, and Paley as
freely as I had done before. But I lost all confidence in my
superintendent, and a portion of the respect I had felt for those who
took his part. Towards the close of the year my superintendent and his
friends endeavored to prevent me from receiving a perfect certificate,
on the pretence that I had expressed a doubt whether my health would
prove equal to the work of the ministry. Their objections proved of no
avail; but the spirit which my superintendent showed, increased the
unhappy feeling which his previous unkindness had awakened in my breast.
19. The wife of one of our ministers published a book, and the husband
sent it to me for review. It contained, mixed up with a great variety of
useful remarks, a number of anti-scriptural and antinomian passages.
While I did justice to the rest of the book, I exposed its errors with
great fidelity, and gave the husband great offence.
20. About the same time a gentleman at whose house I was billeted at
Bury, when lecturing there on temperance, made me a present of a volume
of Channing's discourses. I read this volume with the greatest delight,
and spoke of it highly in my periodical. Now Channing was a Unitarian,
and in one of the discourses contained in the volume which I had
commended, there were several Unitarian expressions. The husband of the
lady whose book I had reviewed brought the matter before Conference. He
also quoted from my periodical a number of passages which he contended
were not Methodistical. He was very violent in his remarks, and
concluded his address by demanding my expulsion. He had conferred with a
number of other preachers before Conference came on, and formed a
considerable party, and the clamor for my condemnation was both loud and
somewhat general. A gentleman, however, of great influence in
Conference,--the same who had pleaded for moderation at the Conference
previous,--rose and proposed a gentler course. The result was a
committee, explanations and a settlement. After the Conference, the
terms of the settlement were misrepresented by my opponents, and I felt
called upon to put them in their proper light. This revived the
controversy, and made matters worse than they had been before.
21. I have referred to the rule which required young preachers to remain
single for four or five years. When a person was received into the
ministry, he was required to give a pledge that he would keep this rule.
I declined to give this pledge, I said I had no _intention_ to marry
before the appointed time, and that if I _did_ so, I should be in the
hands of the Conference, and they could do with me what they thought
best. This was considered sufficient, and I was accepted. As it happened
I _did_ marry before the appointed time. I had had such unsuitable
lodgings found me where I had been stationed, and I had suffered so much
in consequence, that I felt justified in taking a wife and providing
accommodations for myself, I took for my wife a woman of exemplary
character, of amiable disposition, and engaging manners, and I put the
circuits in which I was stationed to no additional expense or trouble. I
took my own house, and provided my own furniture. And I neither begged
nor borrowed a penny, nor did I run one penny into debt. And I worked as
hard after marriage as before, and probably harder, and to better
purpose. The Conference however punished me by putting me a year back,
and transporting me to the most distant part of a very distant circuit.
Thither I had to remove my wife and furniture at great expense. And the
allowance for board there was the lowest that the laws allowed a society
to give. My whole yearly income was only forty pounds, or two hundred
dollars. I was required too to be often and long from home in distant
parts of the circuit. I went however to my appointment and set to work,
disposed, though sorrowful, to do my duty. I got a part of an old
uninhabited house, and my wife made it comfortable. We lived
economically, and kept out of debt, without the aid of either gifts or
loans, and I never had a happier year, and my labors were never better
received or more successful; and Blyth, the place of my banishment, will
be dear to me as long as I live.
22. Yet I had many trials while stationed there. My superintendent was
unkind, and tried from time to time to do me harm. But though he caused
me much trouble at times, a higher power overruled things for my good.
One of the societies over which he had great influence was really cruel.
It refused to postpone a service to allow me to go and see my child when
it was very ill, and thought to be in great danger. The circuit was
nearly thirty miles in length, and I had to spend nearly half my time
from fifteen to twenty-three miles away from home. Once when starting
for the most distant of my appointments, I had left my little child
very unwell, and apparently in danger of death. It was too bad that I
should have had to leave my little family under such circumstances; but
the feeling in many parts of the circuit was so unfriendly towards me,
in consequence of the unfavorable representations of my views and habits
of thought circulated by my superintendent and his friends, that I could
not have missed an appointment with safety. I had been away five days,
when I heard that my child was worse, and likely to die. I had still one
appointment to fulfil, but I resolved, if possible, to get it postponed,
and hasten home. I went to the place and requested the leaders to allow
me to put off the appointment to the following week. They refused my
request. I told them I had received word that my child was likely to
die, and that I was anxious to be with its afflicted mother; but they
would not give way. I was sadly tried, and I said, "I shall go home
notwithstanding. If I find my child alive and likely to recover, I will
return and preach; if I do not find it better, I shall not return. I
shall stay at home and take the consequences!" I had already walked
thirteen miles. It was ten or eleven more to Blyth. I walked the whole
distance. There was no conveyance. My superintendent was allowed horse
hire; but I was not: and I could not afford to pay for a horse myself
out of sixteen dollars or three pound five a month. I reached home, and
found my child a little better. After a little rest, I started back on
foot to my appointment. My wife looked out of the window after me,
weeping, afraid to ask me to remain with her. She knew the temper of my
superintendent, and the feeling of the people, so she wept in silence. I
walked over ten miles more, and then preached. I walked altogether
thirty-three miles that day. I was very much tired; but I had seen my
wife and child, so I went through my work without complaining, and was
up very early next morning, and walked ten miles more to breakfast with
my darling wife, and to comfort her sorrowful heart. My child got well,
and all things turned out happily in the end. Still, the unkindness of
the Conference in punishing me so undeservedly, and the cruelty of my
superintendent and the Westmoor leaders, made me feel very keenly, and I
could never think of those matters without something like indignation
and horror. And all these annoyances lessened my respect for many of my
brethren, and helped to prepare the way for future troubles.
My troubles did not all come from the preachers. There were several
laymen in and about Newcastle-on-Tyne, who seemed to think it a duty to
annoy their young minister. The worst, though in some respects the best,
of that class was Thomas Snowdon, an old local preacher, leader, and
trustee. The first interview that I had with this man he took occasion
to insult me respecting my marriage, and also gave me to understand that
he should expect me to be in perfect subjection to his will, if I wished
to enjoy much peace or comfort in the circuit. It fell to my lot to be
lodged and boarded for part of my time at his house, and to show his way
of proceeding I may give the following.
It was his custom to read a portion of the Scriptures to his family
every morning, and as he passed along he would make comments on what he
read. When I was there, he would frequently stop in his readings and
comments, to ask my opinion, and he seemed to expect that I must always
concur in what he said. At times however I was obliged to dissent from
his sayings, and then would follow a little controversy. Those
controversies were never very profitable, in consequence of his constant
desire to force his own opinions on me, and to extort from me assent to
his whimsical and foolish observations. Yet he still continued to force
those controversies.
He also took upon himself the office of perpetual censurer of my
discourses. And his censures were generally proportioned to the goodness
of the sermon. If I happened to be particularly at liberty in my
discourse, and preach better than usual, he would blame almost
everything. If I preached indifferently, he would censure less; and if I
preached poorly, if I was embarrassed in my discourse, and seemed
troubled or sad on that account, he would scarcely censure at all. Then
the things which he censured would be sure to be the best and truest
parts of my sermon. He appeared to think that he was out of his duty,
unless he was endeavoring to torture the mind of the young preacher, and
to force him, if possible, into subjection to his will.
On one occasion he and I had nearly quarrelled. He had tried me till I
could keep silence no longer, so I told him plainly what I thought about
his manner of proceeding. I spoke so plainly, that both he and his wife
were seriously put about. Soon after that, on my visiting the Newcastle
side of the circuit, I found that the people at whose house I was then
accustomed to sleep, had gone off, and closed the house, so that I was
obliged to look out for other lodgings. I went directly to Mr.
Snowdon's. He was the principal man in the circuit, and it was his place
to see that I was properly provided for. His wife seemed astonished when
I entered the house: but I told her how the matter stood; and I added,
that I did not feel disposed to go, at that time of the night, (for it
was getting rather late) to any other lodging; so that I hoped she would
give me a bed. I also said, that unless I could be accommodated with a
bed there, I would at once return to Blyth. She said, 'I should always
be glad to see you, and to give you either bed or anything else, if you
would not disagree and dispute so with our master.' I replied, 'It is
your master that will disagree and dispute with me. I should be quiet
enough, if he would let me alone. I never force my opinions on him; it
is only when he attempts to force his opinions on me that I ever speak.
You must yourself have seen that he will neither allow me to be silent,
nor allow me quietly to speak my mind; that he _will_ oblige me to
speak, and yet always finds fault if I say anything at variance with
what _he_ says.' She acknowledged that her husband was rather queer in
that respect, but still thought that I might manage a great deal better
with him if I would. I told her I had done my best, and that it was all
to no purpose. 'He will ask my opinion,' said I, 'on every subject that
comes into his head, and then begin to complain whenever my opinion
happens to differ from his.' I also added, that I thought he sometimes
disputed with me merely for the sake of disputing, and contradicted me,
not because he thought I was wrong, but because he thought that it would
be too much of a compliment to acknowledge that he agreed with me on any
subject. She thought I was too severe upon him. I said, 'Well, just wait
and see to-night, and if it is not as I have said, you shall blame me
as much as you like, and I will acknowledge myself in error.'
Almost immediately Mr. Snowdon came in. 'What are _you_ doing here
to-night?' said he. 'I have come to sleep here,' I replied, 'and more
than that, I _must_ sleep here, or else return to Blyth. Mr. G----'s
house is closed, and it is too late to seek a bed elsewhere.' He made no
objections, and things proceeded as usual. He soon took his Bible,
called the family around him, and began to read. The lesson was in
Isaiah. He had not read far before he began to explain a passage.
'This,' said he, 'refers to our blessed Lord Jesus Christ. It points out
the glory of His character and of His person as the supreme God and Lord
of all; exhibits Him as the _Maker_ as well as the _Saviour_ of the
world. Do you not think so, Mr. Barker?' said he. I remained silent. 'Is
not that your view of the subject, Mr. Barker?' he added. 'I have no
objections to offer,' I said. This did not seem exactly to satisfy him;
but he went on, and read again. 'And so it is,' said he; 'we are all by
nature as an unclean thing; there is no health in us. How deeply we are
fallen, Mr. Barker! Do you not think so, Mr. Barker?' I made no reply.
He wished to know why I was silent. I said I did not like to be always
talking on those matters,--that I would rather he would read on, and
allow us to think about the chapter at our leisure afterwards. All this
time his wife was dreadfully fidgetty. She wanted to speak to him, but
could not. She wished to catch his attention by her looks, but to no
purpose. The proof of the truth of what I had said was becoming too
strong for her, and she could scarcely sit still on her chair. He
proceeded: 'This,' said he, 'refers to the glory of the Church of Christ
in the latter days, when the Gentiles shall be converted, and the Jews
brought back to their own land. This will be a glorious time, Mr.
Barker. What are your views on this subject, Mr. Barker?' Then he added
some further remarks, concluding with the question, 'Do you not think
so, Mr. Barker?' I now began to laugh: I could hold no longer. 'And do
you laugh at God's holy word?' said he: and a terrible lecture he would
have read me, had not his wife broke out and said, 'Hinney, you are to
blame, you are to blame. You won't let Mr. Barker alone: he would be
silent if you would allow him: you are too bad.' He repeated his
terrible rebuke of my levity, and I began to explain. I told him what
had passed between his wife and me before he came in. I told him all
that I thought about his way of proceeding towards me in those matters,
and he, poor fellow, was completely confounded. I told him that it
seemed to me as if he really took pleasure in tormenting people; as if
he could not be happy unless he thought that he was making other people
miserable,--that he seemed to begrudge those that were around him the
least ease, or quietness, or pleasure, and to wish to keep them on a
perpetual rack. It was his time now to explain and apologize, and what
do you think was the reason he assigned for his proceedings? 'Hinney,'
said he, 'Mr. Barker is a young minister, and I wish to inure him to
hardness as a good soldier of our Lord Jesus Christ.' I told him there
were painful things enough in the world to inure men to hardness without
his making more, &c. After this he never annoyed me much in that way
again. He did not allow me to rest altogether; that would have been too
much; but he was a vast deal better; and if he ever after this began to
be queer, I always felt greater confidence in refusing to talk to him,
and in letting him know that I expected to be allowed to have a little
of my own way.
I never could persuade myself but that this man was, after all, a good
man. I believe he really feared God and loved his fellow-men. I think he
was conscientious and benevolent. Among other proofs of his benevolence
I may mention, that he took an orphan family under his care, and reared
them. He made them _work_, it is true; he made _every_ one work that was
under _him_; but he fed them, and clothed them, and taught them in his
way. He acted, in short, like a father to them.
Again, when my mother came over to see me at Newcastle, he invited her
to his house. He showed her every possible attention. He was as kind as
it was possible for a man to be. And when she had to leave for Leeds, he
was up by four or five o'clock in the morning, to provide her a
comfortable breakfast, and take her to the coach. But I observed that he
was always kinder to old people than to young people. I suppose he
thought that old people had had trouble enough, and that he had
therefore no need to give them more; but that young people were in
danger of being too happy, of having too little trouble, and that it was
necessary therefore that he should be their tormentor. But even to the
young he could be kind on occasions, very kind; and if the young showed
a disposition to meet his views, to receive his sayings as oracles, and
always to consult his will, he would even caress and commend them. But
he could receive no measured or limited subjection. They must neither
think, nor speak, nor smile, nor stir but in accordance with his will if
they wished to enjoy his favor. The least imaginable opposition to his
judgment or his pleasure, would draw forth his rebukes.
There were laymen in almost all places who took upon themselves to tell
you what you should believe and teach, and to condemn you as a heretic
if you did not attend to their suggestions.
24. In 1837, shortly after I was stationed in Mossley, I had a public
discussion with a clergyman on the propriety or lawfulness of teaching
the children of the poor to write in our Sunday-schools. The New
Connexion people in the Mossley circuit taught writing in their
Sunday-schools, and they had, in consequence, a very large attendance of
scholars, and very prosperous churches. Their scholars outnumbered those
of all the other schools put together. This seemed to annoy the
ministers of the other denominations, and it was no uncommon thing for
those ministers, when they came to preach the yearly sermons in behalf
of the funds of their Schools, to say strong things against the practice
of the New Connexion. Dr. Nunn, of the Established Church, contended
that it was Sabbath-breaking, and challenged the New Connexion officials
to a public discussion on the subject. They accepted the challenge, and
appointed me their champion. I contended, that in the circumstances in
which the children of the poor were placed at that time, it was an act
of mercy and Christian beneficence to teach them to write on Sundays.
The clergyman gave up the contest before the time allowed for the debate
came to a close, and I was proclaimed victor. I published my views on
the subject in a pamphlet, entitled MERCY TRIUMPHANT, which
had an extensive circulation, and produced a powerful effect on the
views of large numbers of people. Some of my brethren denounced the
pamphlet as heretical, and the editor of the _Magazine_ took occasion to
inform his readers, in an offensive way, that my views were not the
views of the body to which I belonged.
25. In the Sheffield circuit I had several unpleasant collisions with
one of my colleagues, and a couple of superannuated ministers, about a
rich but very unworthy member there. This man was anxious to control the
action of the whole circuit, and even of the whole Connexion, and one of
my colleagues, and the two superannuated ministers, one of which was Mr.
Allin, my old and persistent opponent, took his part. I had myself no
faith in the man. I knew him to be both an ignorant and unworthy person.
He was, in fact, a drunkard. Both he and Mr. Allin once, after having
spent the day at a public feast, came into an official meeting drunk in
the evening. I was present, and saw the horrible sight. It afterwards
came out that this rude, ambitious man was something worse than a
drunkard. I did what I could to avoid an open rupture with my colleagues
and this man's friends, and succeeded for a time, but they obliged me at
last, either to sanction what I felt to be wrong, or openly to protest
against their proceedings. I protested. And now the unsubstantial peace
which had existed between us for a time was followed by a very unhappy
rupture, which left deep and angry wounds in the hearts of all the
contending parties.
26. But to give all the incidents which proved the occasion of bitter
feeling and alienation between me and a number of my brethren would
require a book. They were happening almost continually. When once people
have ceased to regard each other with love and confidence, they can
neither speak nor stir without giving each other offence. And this was
the state to which I and several of my brethren had come. Indeed such
was the unhappy state of our feelings, that we had ceased to take
pleasure in pleasing, and had come almost to take delight in trying one
another. Instead of coming as near together as we could, we got as far
as possible apart. We came at length to feel a kind of gratification in
finding what appeared good reasons for differing from one another. The
consequence was, we came to differ from each other so much, that it
became impossible for us to work together to any advantage.
And there was no one with wisdom and piety sufficient to interpose and
heal the breach, or even to prevent it from getting continually wider.
The gentleman who had acted as mediator and moderator when my article on
_Toleration and Human Creeds_ was arraigned, and who had also brought
about the temporary settlement of a more serious dispute at the
Conference following, now found the case beyond his powers, and made no
further attempts at reconciliation. He saw it necessary, if he would
retain his influence in the Body, to become a partizan, instead of a
mediator, and he chose the side of my opponents. There were two other
men--two of the oldest and ablest of our ministers--and two of the most
exemplary Christians in the Body--who saw the danger of the tempest that
was raging against me, and who would have been glad to screen me from
its violence, but they were afraid to interpose. They loved me and
esteemed me, and sympathized with me in many of my views; but to have
attempted to save me from the fury of my opponents, would have been to
risk their own reputation and position. One of them had already suffered
in consequence of the freedom with which he had expressed his views on
certain anti-christian doctrines, though he had written with far more
caution, and acted with much more prudence, than I had done; and he no
doubt felt, that if he could not, without so much difficulty, save
himself, it would be vain to attempt to save another, who had spoken and
written with so much more freedom, and acted with so much more
independence. So the storm was left to rage and spend its fury on my own
head.
I cannot give an account of all that followed during the last two years
which I spent in connection with the Church; it would make my story too
long. But things got worse and worse as time passed on.
In 1840 I brought my _Evangelical Reformer_ to a close. In the last
number I declared my unchanged belief in the sentiments set forth in my
article on "_Toleration, Human Creeds, &c._" I also contradicted the
reports that had been spread abroad by my enemies, to the effect that I
had, at the preceding Conference, retracted certain expressions used in
my writings with regard to justification, the witness of the Spirit,
&c.; and censured the conduct of the ruling party in my case in very
plain terms. I said, "If any of my opponents imagine that I have
recanted a single sentence that I have published in this work, they are
under some misapprehension. There is not a doctrine that I have
inculcated in it that I do not still maintain. And I declare my full
conviction that the resolutions which were passed in reference to me by
the Ashton and Huddersfield Conferences were based in error, and that
the proceedings of my opponents in this matter were uncalled for and
unchristian."
My enemies at once decided on my expulsion. Their purpose was to cast me
out at the following Conference, and Mr. Allin published a small tract
in reply to my article on Human Creeds, to prepare the minds of the
people for the intended measure. He published it just before Conference,
when he supposed it would be impossible for me to prepare a reply before
the Body assembled. I never saw it till the evening of Thursday, the day
but one before that on which I was to leave home for the distant place
where the Conference was to meet. But I wrote a reply the same night,
and got it printed, and in less than twenty-four hours it was
circulating in every direction. I had been able to show that my
opponent's arguments proved just the contrary of what they were brought
forward to prove. I also showed that the views advocated in my article
were the views of Mr. Kilham, the founder of the Body to which we all
belonged, and were, in fact, the views of some of the best and ablest
men that the Church universal had ever produced. I gave quite a
multitude of quotations justifying my article to the very letter. The
effect was astounding. The people saw at once that I was right. My
enemies were confounded. They were paralyzed. And I was saved.
But it was only for a time. The contest had lasted so long, and had
produced such a fearful amount of unhappy feeling between me and my
opponents, that reconciliation and comfortable co-operation had become
impossible. It could not be expected that a powerful party would rest
content under a defeat; and it was not in me to give up my efforts to
bring about a better state of things in the Connexion. And hence a
renewal of the unhappy strife.
It is natural to suppose that my enemies would now be anxious to get rid
of me, and would watch for a suitable occasion to cast me out; and my
ideas of duty were such, that it was impossible for me long to refrain
from giving them the opportunity they desired. I did it as follows.
1. The early churches provided for their poor members. The Quakers, the
Moravians, and the early Methodists did the same. This exercise of
brotherly love is enjoined by Christ and His Apostles. I urged this duty
on the church to which I belonged. I preached and published a sermon on
the subject, and circulated a number of tracts on the same point,
published by others.
2. The travelling preachers had a Fund, called the Beneficent Fund, for
the support of superannuated preachers and preachers' widows. Some of
the rules of this fund seemed to me to be anti-christian, and I labored
to get them altered. I also recommended that there should be a fund for
worn-out and needy local preachers.
3. Members of the churches mingled with drunkards, profligates, and
infidels, in benefit societies, and many other associations. This seemed
to me to be very objectionable, and plainly unscriptural, and I
recommended that they should come out from such societies, and form
associations for good objects among themselves.
4. Wesley had provided cheap books and pamphlets for his societies, and
I urged the Conference to do the same for ours. I wrote letters to the
Annual Committee, the representatives of the Connexion, showing that
books published at eight or ten shillings a volume, could be supplied at
one or one and sixpence. I reminded them of the fact that the Book-room
had abundance of spare capital which might be profitably used in such a
work, and I pointed out the advantages likely to result from the
encouragement of thoughtful and studious habits among the people. I
published a pamphlet on the subject, entitled _The Church and the
Press_, showing that the churches might almost monopolize the supply of
books, and become the teachers and the rulers of the nations, I said,
"If the Church at large would do its duty, every dark place on earth
might be visited, and the seeds of truth and righteousness sown in every
part of the globe in a few years." With regard to our own Connexion I
said, "Our Magazine and Book-room, which ought to be promoting the
intellectual and religious improvement of the Connexion and the world,
are doing just nothing at all, or next to nothing. The leading articles
of the Magazine are among the dullest and most useless things ever
printed. The Book-room, which has capital enough to publish thirty or
forty new books a year, does not issue one. An institution which ought
to be filling the Connexion and the country generally with the light and
blessings of Christianity, and which is capable of being made a blessing
to the world at large, is allowed to 'stand there all the day idle.'"
I then proposed, as a means of stimulating the Book Committee and the
Editor of the Magazine to greater activity, that I and my friends should
be allowed to publish a periodical, and to establish a Book-room, at our
own expense. The proposal was not only rejected, but even treated as a
capital offence.
5. I had labored hard against the infidel socialists, lecturing against
them in almost all the large towns in the kingdom, and I was, to a great
extent, the means of breaking up their societies. But my contests with
those infidels made me more sensible of the necessity of abandoning all
human additions to Christ's doctrine, and of having nothing to defend
but the beautiful and beneficent principles of pure unadulterated
Christianity. Hence I became still less of a sectarian in my belief, and
more and more of a simple Christian, and I labored to promote a stricter
conformity to the teachings of Christ among ministers and Christians
generally.
6. I wrote against the waste of God's money by professing Christians in
luxurious living and vain show, and exhorted the rich to employ their
surplus wealth in doing good.
7. That it might not be said that I received pay from the church for
doing one kind of work while I employed a portion of my time in doing
others, I gave up my salary, and refused to receive anything from the
circuit in which I was stationed, except what was given me as a
free-will offering.
8. I withdrew from the preachers' benefit society, resolved, in case of
sickness or old age, to trust for a supply of my wants to the providence
of God.
9. I recommended the Connexion to pay off all the chapel debts, and
prepare itself for more vigorous and extensive aggressions on the
kingdom of darkness.
All these things increased the anxiety of my opponents to get me out of
the ministry; but they would probably have failed to give them the power
to accomplish their object, if I had gone no farther. But I believed it
my duty to take another step.
10. It was the custom in the Body to which I belonged, to baptize
children in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. This
form of words was understood by me to imply that infant baptism was
commanded by God in Scripture. This, however, I doubted, and I declined
to use the words when naming or baptizing children. I had no objection
to name children, to pray for them, or even to sprinkle them; but I
could not use an expression in a sense in which I did not think it
strictly true. This emboldened my enemies to attempt my expulsion
without more ado, and this time they adopted measures calculated to
ensure success. They issued circulars on the subject to the ministers
and to the leading and influential laymen. They called secret meetings.
They employed a variety of means which seemed to me and my friends to
savor more of Popish tyranny than of Christian discipline. At length
Conference came, and I was called to account. The charges against me
were--
1. That I had denied the divine appointment of baptism, and refused to
administer the ordinance.
2. That I had denied the divine appointment and present obligation of
the Lord's supper.
3. That I had declared myself opposed to the beneficent fund.
4. That I had announced the formation of a book establishment, thereby
engaging in worldly pursuits, contrary to rule, and by this means
opposing the best interests of the Book-room.
None of those charges were true. 1. What I proposed to do with regard to
the supply of books, was no more worldly business than preaching was,
or selling the publications of the Connexion. The object was not profit,
but extended usefulness. 2. I had not declared myself opposed to the
Beneficent Fund, but had simply proposed the improvement of its rules,
and the extension of its operations. 3. I had not denied either the
divine appointment or present obligation of the Lord's supper. 4. Nor
had I denied the divine appointment of baptism, but only declared my
belief that _water baptism_, though a becoming rite under the Christian
dispensation, was the baptism of John, and absolutely binding only under
his intermediate dispensation.
The two latter charges were not pressed, and even the second was
speedily given up, the one on baptism only remaining. This was pressed,
and as my views on the subject were deemed intolerable, I was expelled.
There was a fearful display of bad feeling on the part of many of my
opponents. And no little pressure was brought to bear on those who were
opposed to extreme measures. It was a time of terrible trial to those
who showed themselves my friends. The height to which the excitement
against me rose can hardly be made intelligible to my readers of the
present day. I regarded the proceedings of my opponents from beginning
to end as dishonorable, unjust and cruel. "They have gone," said I, in
my account of the proceedings of the Conference, "they have gone in
opposition to every dictate both of equity and charity. The principles
on which they have acted are the low, the dark, and the tyrannical
principles of Popery. They have covered themselves with dishonor, and
earned for themselves a name for injustice, intolerance and cruelty,
beyond all the religious denominations in the land. Many a time, as I
sat in my place in Conference, hearing what was said, and observing what
was done, I asked myself, 'Is this like Christ? Can this be pleasing to
God? What must angels think to look upon a scene like this? Perpetual
talk about the authority of Conference and the majesty of the rules; but
not a word about the authority of Christ, or the majesty and supremacy
of the Gospel. And such overbearing, such harshness, such determined
unrelenting cruelty towards all who showed a determination to act
according to their own convictions of duty.' In the evenings, after the
sittings of Conference were adjourned, I and a friend frequently walked
out among the hills surrounding the town, conversing with each other,
and with our heavenly Father, and oh! what a contrast! What a boundless
contrast between the atmosphere of Conference, and the atmosphere of
those sweet hills! What an infinite relief to be placed beyond the sound
of angry strife, and jealous, persecuting rage; to walk at large over
the lofty hills, to breathe the fresh air of heaven, to converse with
God, to look upon His wondrous works, to hear the sweet music of the
birds, to trace the silent path of the shadowy woods, or to stand on the
exposed, uncovered peaks of the mountain tops, and cast one's eyes on
fruitful vales, and quiet homes, and all that earth can show of grand
and beautiful, and most of all, to see in every sight the hand of
God--to hear in every sound His voice,--to feel that the Great,
Almighty, Unseen Spirit of the Universe, that lived and worked through
all, was our Father and our love,--to feel that we were one with Him,
and that He was one with us. 'This is heaven,' I cried; and, pointing to
the scene of strife and hate that lurked below, I added, 'That is hell.'
Never before did we understand why Jesus, after having spent the day in
crowds, and being harassed with the captious, cruel, persecuting Scribes
and Pharisees, retired at night into the desert, or withdrew to the
mountains. Never before did the Gospel seem so true a story. Never
before were we brought into such living sympathy with the Saviour of
mankind. I can recollect nothing I ever met with so trying as to sit in
Conference; but in our walks upon the high places, God made up for all."
"Well," I added, "I thank God I am now free. My Conference trials are
ended. O never more may I be found shut up with men who set at nought
the authority of Christ, and who, by all the cruel acts of unrelenting
persecution, strive to bend the immortal godlike mind into unnatural
subjection to their ambitious will."