enthusiasm, and presently entered into the path which Whitefield, his
friend and disciple, had opened for him. The latter, who was a few years
younger than Wesley, and like him educated at Oxford, and in orders, had
begun a short time before to address the people in the open air, at
Kingswood near Bristol. Wesley, after some little hesitation, proceeding
from his respect for ecclesiastical practice and discipline, followed
his example, and commenced his field-preaching in the same place. Here
was the first indication of any approach to a separation from the
Church, and thus in fact were laid the foundations of the sect of
Methodists; yet such was not the design, perhaps, of either of its
founders,—certainly not of Wesley. His scheme, if indeed he had then
proposed to himself any fixed scheme, was rather to awaken the spirit of
religion slumbering within the Church,—to revive the dying embers of
vital Christianity,—to infuse into the languid system new life and
energy,—to place before the eyes of the people the essentials of their
faith, and to rouse their religious instructors to a proper view of
their profession and sense of their duty. It was rather an order than a
sect that he designed to found; an order subsidiary to the Church, in
rivalry indeed with the ancient branches of the Establishment, but
filled with no hostile spirit, and having no final object but its
regeneration. Such as were the Mendicants in respect to the Roman
Church; severe in their reproaches against the indolence and degeneracy
of the clergy, whether regular or secular; severe in their own
professions, and for a season in their piety and practice too; making
their earnest appeals to the lower classes, and turning their influence
with them to their own aggrandizement; yet so far removed from schism,
so far from harbouring any ill designs against the papacy, as to be the
warmest zealots of the Vatican, and the most faithful ministers of all
its projects:—such (so far as the change in civil and ecclesiastical
principles would permit) the disciples of Wesley were probably designed
to have become, in respect to the English Church, by the original
intention of their master. At any rate, it was certain that the
emulation, which he could not fail to rouse, would in the end be
serviceable to the interests of true religion; and it is very possible
that, in the depth of his enthusiasm, he held every other consideration
to be entirely subordinate to this.
The first effects of his public preaching have not been surpassed by any
thing that we read in the history of fanaticism. On one occasion, as he
was inculcating the doctrine of universal redemption, “immediately one,
and another, and another, sank to the earth; they dropped down on every
side as thunderstruck.” Sometimes, as he began to preach, numbers of his
believers fell into violent fits and lay struggling in convulsions
around him. At other times his voice was lost amidst the groans and
cries of his distracted hearers. Wesley encouraged the storm which he
had raised; he shared the fanaticism which he imparted; and in these
deplorable spectacles of human imbecility he saw nothing but the hand of
God confirming by miraculous interposition the holiness of his mission.
But however elated the preacher might be by these spiritual triumphs,
however confident in the immediate aid and favour of God, he did not
neglect such human means as occurred to him for securing and advancing
his conquests. At a very early period he divided his followers at
Bristol into male and female _bands_, for purposes of mutual confession
and prayer, in imitation of one part of the Moravian discipline. The
establishment of love feasts was equally early. Presently Friday was set
apart by him for prayer and fasting; and a house was erected (likewise
at Bristol) for the meeting of his disciples. Things were already
advancing towards schism. The directors of the church discouraged the
extravagance of the teacher, and pitied the madness of the people. Many
clergymen, with praiseworthy discretion, refused their pulpits to men
who might turn them to such strange purposes. And this gave a pretext to
Wesley for seeking means of instructing the people independent of the
Church.
In the mean time he discovered that there were differences between
himself and those with whom he had hitherto been most closely
connected—differences the more difficult to reconcile, because they
concerned points of doctrine—the one with the Moravians, the other with
Whitefield and his followers. For the arrangement of the former, Count
Zinzendorf came in person to England, and had some conferences with
Wesley—but he no longer found in him a timid disciple, or obsequious
admirer. Wesley defended fearlessly the opinions which he professed,
concerning Christian perfection and the means of grace; and as no
concession was possible on the other side, the controversy ended in an
entire and final breach between him and the Moravians. The dispute with
Whitefield, occasioned by the predestinarian doctrines now nakedly
advanced by him, was conducted with considerable bitterness, and came to
a similar termination. Not that the separation was in this case so
complete as to preclude a temporary reconciliation, which was effected
some years afterwards; but the difference was clearly proved to be real
and irreconcileable; and the permanent division of methodism may in fact
be dated from the year 1740.
From this time Wesley, having shaken off two connexions which had
embarrassed more than they had strengthened him, became the sole head
and mover of a considerable religious party: and he immediately applied
his talents to give it organization and perpetuity. He divided his
followers into _classes_, each under the direction of a leader. He
caused pecuniary contributions to be collected from the individuals
composing those classes, so as to establish a permanent fund for the
support of his society, bearing an exact proportion to the number of its
members. He appointed itinerant preachers, and instructed them to preach
in the open air, under the plea that they were excluded from the pulpits
of the Church. And lastly and reluctantly,—for he still retained much
affection for that Church, and could not be blind to the consequences of
the measure,—he committed the office of preaching to laymen. In the
first instance, indeed, he conceded to them no more than the privilege
of expounding the Gospel; but seeing how soon they deviated from
exposition into preaching, he thought it wiser at once to acknowledge
the latter as a part of his system, and thus acquire the power of
preventing, as far as might be, its abuse. These men were, for the most
part, humbly born and ill educated. But their zeal supplied, in popular
estimation, the place of learning; and their habits of poverty enabled
them to endure the privations incident to the missionary of a new sect.
Thus were their labours attended with great success; and this was
essentially promoted by a very sage provision of Wesley, that no
confession of faith should be required on admission into his community.
The door was thus open to all mankind. The new member was never called
upon to secede from the body to which he had previously belonged. He
might bear what denomination he chose among the visible members of
Christ’s Church, so long as he renounced his vices and his pleasures,
and engaged with a regenerate heart in the work of his salvation.
At this time (about 1742) Wesley and his disciples attained that degree
of importance, which qualified them to become objects of persecution. It
was among the lower classes that they had thrown the torch of
fanaticism, and it was from the same that the outrages which now
assailed them proceeded. On two or three occasions the person of the
master himself was in some danger from popular fury; and it may perhaps
have been preserved by his singular presence of mind, and the awe which
he knew how to inspire into his fellow creatures. But these violent
eruptions of indignation, as they were founded on no semblance of
reason, and opposed by the civil authorities, were partial and of short
duration; and as the rumours of them were much exaggerated at the time,
their influence, as far as they had any, was probably favorable to the
progress of methodism. Some calumnies that were raised against Wesley
from more respectable quarters, touching his tendency to papacy and his
disaffection to the reigning dynasty, arising from entire
misunderstanding or pure malevolence, were immediately repelled, and
speedily silenced and forgotten.
In the year 1744 Wesley invited his brother Charles, four other
clergymen who co-operated with him, and four of his lay-preachers to a
_Conference_: this was the origin of the assembly or council, which was
afterwards held annually, and became the governing body, for the
regulation of the general affairs of the society. Four years
subsequently, a school was opened at Kingswood, for the education
chiefly of the sons of the preachers. In the extreme severity of some of
the rules which he imposed on this establishment, Wesley seems to have
been guided by an ambitious design to set apart his own people from the
rest of the community, rather than by the common principles of
education, or the common feelings of nature. And so jealous was he of
any other influence being exerted on his children, that they were not
allowed to be absent from the school, not even for a day, from their
first admission till their final removal from it. Notwithstanding
however the peculiarity and, as he thought, the purity of his system, he
met with many difficulties and reverses, in his first attempts to place
it on a permanent foundation.
We may pass over the circumstances of his unfortunate marriage, which
ended, after a few months of discord and vexation, in a hasty but final
separation. His wife, after proving herself his foulest slanderer and
bitterest enemy, presently deserted him. “Non eam reliqui (says
Wesley)—non dimisi—non revocabo.” “I have not left her—I have not put
her away—I will not recall her.” The same calmness of temper and perfect
self-possession, which so remarkably distinguished him in his public
proceedings, seem not to have abandoned him even in the more pressing
severity of his domestic trials.
Neither have we space to notice the controversies which he carried on
with two of the most eminent divines of his time, bishops Lavington and
Warburton; since Wesley, though engaged in dispute with the prelates of
the Church, and very frequent and bitter in the reproaches which he cast
against its ministers, still adhered to its communion, and had yet
committed no act declaratory of absolute independence. But later in life
he advanced farther towards schism. First of all, as he did not assume
for his lay-preachers the power of administering the sacrament, he
caused several to be ordained by one Erasmus, a Greek Bishop of
Arcadia—thus evading the spiritual authority, which he could not
contest, and which he did not yet venture to dispense with. But this was
a feeble resource, unworthy of his courage, and unavailing to his
purposes. A stronger measure followed. His disciples were very numerous
in America, and it was desirable to send out to them a head, invested
with the highest spiritual authority. Dr. Coke, an “evangelical”
clergyman, was selected for that office, and Wesley took upon himself to
invest him with the requisite dignity. These letters of ordination are
dated September 2, 1784, and announce in substance, that Wesley thought
himself providentially called, at that time, to set apart some persons
for the work of the ministry in America; and therefore, under the
protection of Almighty God, and with a single eye to his glory, had that
day set apart, as a superintendent, by the imposition of his hands and
prayer, Thomas Coke, a doctor of civil law, and a presbyter of the
Church of England.
In this affair, it was weak in Wesley to plead (as he did) a seasonable
conviction, that in the true primitive Church the order of bishop and
presbyter were one and the same—for if Wesley exercised as presbyter
episcopal authority, so, under the same plea, might Dr. Coke have
exercised it, without any imposition of Wesley’s hands. This was a
shallow pretence, which could scarcely have deceived himself. The fact
was, that Wesley, now acting as the sole head of a separate religious
party, assumed the prerogatives of the highest ecclesiastical dignity;
and resolved that all the privileges of his ministers should emanate
from himself. This is properly considered as a second important epoch in
the history of methodism.
Wesley was then eighty-one years old, and he lived for seven years
longer, in the perfect enjoyment of his health and exercise of his
faculties, almost to the very end. He died March 2, 1791: leaving no
property, except the copyright and current editions of his works, which
he bequeathed for the use of the connexion. The whole number of his
followers, at the time of his decease, is stated at about 135,000, of
whom more than 57,600 were Americans. In the United Kingdoms, his
principal success had been in some of the large towns in England and in
Ireland. But he complains of the coldness with which his preaching was,
for the most part, received by the agricultural classes generally, and
by the entire Scotch nation—facts which may however be accounted for,
without supposing any religious obduracy either in the one or the other.
Thus did Wesley live to fix and consolidate, by the calmer deliberation
of his later years, the effects, which might otherwise have been
transient, of his early enthusiasm. It required many talents, as well as
many virtues, to accomplish this—and Wesley was abundantly endowed with
both. The natural ardour and eagerness of his character was moderated by
great sagacity and calm judgment, a conciliating and forgiving temper.
If he loved power, he did not covet money; but bestowed all that he had
upon the poor. Doubtless his original object was simply to awaken the
dormant spirit of vital Christianity; and if spiritual ambition,
fomented by the general discouragement which he received from the
clergy, seduced him too readily—though reluctantly and in opposition to
his own professions, and even to his own intentions—into what did in
fact amount to schism; yet the breach is not even now irreparable, if
only his better spirit shall preside in the councils of his disciples,
and be met with a kindred feeling of religious moderation by the
directors of the Established Church.
[Illustration: [Monument to Wesley in the Chapel in the City Road.]]
[Illustration]
DR. CARTWRIGHT.
The incident which immediately led to the invention of the power-loom is
best related in the words of the inventor himself. “Happening to be at
Matlock in the summer of 1784, I fell in company with some gentlemen of
Manchester, when the conversation turned on Arkwright’s spinning
machinery. One of the company observed, that as soon as Arkwright’s
patent expired, so many mills would be erected, and so much cotton spun,
that hands never could be found to weave it. To this observation I
replied, that Arkwright must then set his wits to work to invent a
weaving mill. This brought on a conversation on the subject, in which
the Manchester gentlemen unanimously agreed that the thing was
impracticable; and in defence of their opinion, they adduced arguments
which I certainly was incompetent to answer, or even to comprehend,
being totally ignorant of the subject, having never at that time seen a
person weave. I controverted however the impracticability of the thing.”
Looms driven by power had been constructed before, but they had not been
made to answer; and it is probable, from the circumstances of Dr.
Cartwright’s life, that he had never heard of them: at all events the
idea thus suggested to him did not lie dormant. Before the following
April, he had constructed his first power-loom; and he took out his last
weaving patent Aug. 1, 1787. Mechanical spinning therefore was the
parent of mechanical weaving. Without the former, the latter would have
been needless; without the latter, the former would have been
incomplete. Every stage of the cotton manufacture, from the cleaning of
the raw wool to the formation of a perfect web, may be, and in many
establishments is, now carried on under the same roof, and by the moving
power of the same engine. The name of Dr. Cartwright should follow that
of Sir Richard Arkwright in the list of our national benefactors; though
at present it is far less known to the world at large. It was long
indeed before Cartwright’s merits were appreciated, and they failed to
obtain for him the wealth and distinction which the creation of the
factory system secured to Arkwright. The utility of the power-loom is
now acknowledged, and its sphere appears to be rapidly enlarging. But it
is still limited even in the cotton, and much more in the silk and
woollen manufactures; and it is not unreasonable to expect that, as
prejudices give way, and fresh refinements render the machine
susceptible of more general, not to say universal, application, the art
of weaving by mechanism, as formerly of spinning, may give an impulse to
our trade, of which we now see the beginning, but cannot conjecture the
end.
[Illustration:
_Engraved by J. Thomson._
D^R. CARTWRIGHT.
_From a Picture in the possession of Miss Cartwright._
Under the Superintendance of the Society of the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge.
_London, Published by Charles Knight, Ludgate Street._
]
Edmund Cartwright was the fourth son of William Cartwright, Esq., of
Marnham in Nottinghamshire, a gentleman whose family had been long
established in the county, and had suffered considerably in its fortune
by adherence to the cause of Charles I. in the civil war. He was born
April 24, 1743; and at the school of Wakefield, and at University
College, Oxford, received the education usually bestowed upon young men
destined for the clerical profession. At an early age he manifested a
taste for poetic composition; but though he had printed some short
pieces anonymously, his name was not given to the public, until the
appearance, in 1770, of ‘Armenia and Elvira,’ a legendary poem, which
became so popular that it passed through seven editions in little more
than a year. He also published, about the same period, the ‘Prince of
Peace,’ and ‘Sonnets to Eminent Men.’ In 1774 he became a contributor to
the Monthly Review, in which he continued to write for ten years.
We have not ascertained the date of his taking orders, of his election
to a fellowship at Magdalen College, or of his vacating that fellowship
by marriage. The degree of D.D. he took in 1806. For some years after
his marriage he resided, first on his living at Brampton in Derbyshire,
and afterwards at Goadby-Marwood in Leicestershire; where the hours
which were not devoted to the duties of his calling were chiefly
employed in literary pursuits.
Hitherto Mr. Cartwright’s private life had been that of a retired
country clergyman, varied only by his correspondence with literary
friends. From his family connexions, and the esteem in which he was held
by some who had power to advance him, his prospects in the church were
favourable; and he had good reason to believe, that if he had confined
himself to the line of life in which he had been educated, and in which
he was then advancing, he would have attained a more ample provision in
his profession, than it was his lot to acquire by the exercise of his
mechanical talent. The existence of such a talent in his own mind had
been wholly unknown even to himself, until he was upwards of forty years
of age, when the circumstance which has been above narrated called it
into action, and caused a change in the whole tenor of his life. In his
first attempts he had to contend with the difficulties which usually
beset genius without experience. “As I had never before turned my
thoughts to anything mechanical, either in theory or practice, nor had
even seen a loom at work, or knew anything of its construction, you will
readily believe that my first loom was a most rude piece of machinery.
The warp was placed perpendicularly; the reed fell with the weight of at
least half a hundred weight, and the springs which threw the shuttle
were strong enough to have thrown a Congreve rocket. In short, it
required the strength of two powerful men to work the machine at a slow
rate, and only for a short time.” This, as we have seen, was in 1785: he
also applied his talents to effecting the substitution of machinery for
manual labour in combing wool, and took out his first patent on this
subject in April 1790.
The following anecdotes we quote from the ‘Pursuit of Knowledge,’ vol.
ii.; we believe them to rest upon the best authority. “Dr. Cartwright’s
children still remember often seeing their father about this time
walking to and fro apparently in deep meditation, and occasionally
throwing his arms from side to side; on which they used to be told that
he was thinking of weaving and throwing the shuttle. From the moment
indeed when his attention was first turned to the invention of the
power-loom, mechanical contrivance became the grand occupying subject of
his thoughts. With that sanguineness of disposition which seems to be
almost a necessary part of the character of an inventor, he looked on
difficulties, when he met with them in any of his attempts, as only
affording his genius occasion for a more distinguished triumph: nor did
he allow even repeated failures for a moment to dishearten him. Some
time after he had brought his first loom to perfection, a manufacturer,
who had called upon him to see it at work, after expressing his
admiration of the ingenuity displayed in it, remarked, that wonderful as
was Mr. Cartwright’s mechanical skill, there was one thing that would
effectually baffle him, namely the weaving of patterns in checks, or in
other words, the combining in the same web, of a pattern, or fancy
figure, with the crossing colours which constitute the check. Mr.
Cartwright made no reply to this observation at the time; but some weeks
after, on receiving a second visit from the same person, he had the
pleasure of showing him a piece of muslin of the description mentioned,
beautifully executed by machinery. The man is said to have been so much
astonished, that he roundly declared his conviction that some agency
more than human must have been called in on the occasion.”
The prejudices and opposition which Dr. Cartwright’s invention
encountered from the manufacturers, stood greatly in the way of any
general adoption of his loom during the period of his patent rights.
Other causes, however, were concerned in this. A mill, containing five
hundred of his looms, was burnt down almost immediately after its
erection. He engaged in a concern for manufacturing with power-looms at
Doncaster; but this proved unsuccessful. And it is not improbable,
though we have not found it expressly stated, that the machine itself
was not at this time able to compete, in respect of economy and beauty
of workmanship, with hand labour: for during the period of his exclusive
rights, two or three other persons took out patents for power-looms,
without being able to make them answer. But about the year 1801, in
which his patent expired, he had the pleasure of finding that his
invention was coming into use to a very considerable extent; and the
mortification of seeing others reap the fruit of his unrequited
ingenuity. The increased demand during the war for English cotton goods,
with the necessity for working up at home the cotton yarn which had
hitherto been exported to the Continent, had given an impulse to the
manufacture favourable to the introduction of machinery; and at the same
time the power-loom was rendered much more economical by a very
ingenious method, invented by Mr. Radcliffe of Stockport, about 1804, of
dressing or sizing the warp, before it was placed in the loom. A cotton
manufacturer of Stockport, named Horrocks, took out a patent for another
power-loom in 1803. He failed; but his loom, with various modifications,
is that which has now come into general use.