1768.
Age 65
During the year 1768, Charles Wesley, with his brother’s full
concurrence, removed his family from Bristol to London, which
henceforth was his place of residence.[1] Whitefield spent the first half
of the year in the metropolis. In July, he set out for Scotland; but,
about a month after, returned to London to inter his wife, who died on
August 9. His health was somewhat feeble; but he continued to itinerate
and preach to the utmost of his power. His orphan house in America, and
Lady Huntingdon’s college at Trevecca, demanded his attention, and had
it. He and Wesley were still warm hearted friends; and yet there seems
to have been a shade of coldness come over them. Hence the following,
written when the year was closing.
“TABERNACLE, _December 28, 1768_.
“REVEREND AND VERY DEAR SIR,--Pray have you or I committed the
unpardonable sin, because we differ in particular cases, and act
according to our consciences? I imagine the common salvation is not
promoted by keeping at such a distance. Enemies rejoice. Halfway
friends especially are pleased.
“You will be glad to hear, that the time for completing the orphan
house affair seems to be come. Do you know of a good, judicious,
spiritual tutor? Will you, without delay, make the first present
of your works to the library? I hope we shall have a nursery for
true Christian ministers. I know you will say Amen. Yesterday I was
fifty-four years old. God be merciful to me a sinner! Though you are
older, I trust you will not get the start of me, by going to heaven,
before, reverend and very dear sir, less than the least of all,
“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[2]
Another letter, of the same kind, was addressed to Wesley, on New
Year’s day, by his old friend at Everton.
“EVERTON, _January 1, 1768_.
“DEAR SIR,--I see no reason why we should keep at a distance, whilst
we continue servants of the same Master, and especially when Lot’s
herdsmen are so ready to lay their staves on our shoulders. Though my
hand has been mute, my heart is kindly affected towards you. I trust
we agree in essentials; and, therefore, should leave each other at
rest with his circumstantials. I am weary of all disputes, and desire
to know nothing but Jesus; to love Him, trust Him, and serve Him; to
choose and find Him my only portion. I would have Him my meat, my
drink, my clothing, my sun, my shield, my Lord, my God, my all. Amen.
“When I saw you in town, I gave you an invitation to Everton; and
I now repeat it, offering you very kindly the use of my house and
church. The Lord accompany you in all your journeys! Kind love to
your brother. Adieu!
“JOHN BERRIDGE.”[3]
At the close of the year 1767, the Earl of Buchan died triumphing in
the faith of Christ. He had been in the habit of hearing Whitefield,
the Wesleys, and others, at Bath, and had felt their ministry a
blessing. His last words were, “Happy, happy, happy!” The inscription
upon his coffin run thus: “His life was honourable, his death blessed;
he sought earnestly peace with God,--he found it with unspeakable
joy, alone in the merits of Christ Jesus, witnessed by the Holy
Spirit to his soul.”[4] His countess dowager was a woman of deep
piety, of elegant taste, and of great genius. She was the mother
of a numerous family, and appointed Venn, Berridge, and Wesley her
domestic chaplains. This was done through the intervention of Lady
Huntingdon,[5] to whom Wesley addressed the following letter.
“LONDON, _January 4, 1768_.
“MY DEAR LADY,--I am obliged to your ladyship, and to Lady Buchan,
for such a mark of your regard as I did not at all expect. I purpose
to return her ladyship thanks by this post.
“That remark is very striking, as well as just;--If it is the Holy
Spirit that bears witness, then all speaking against that Witness
is one species of blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. And when this
is done by those who profess to honour Him, it must in a peculiar
manner grieve that blessed Spirit. Yet, I have been surprised to
observe how many, who affirm salvation by faith, have lately run
into this; running full into Mr. Sandeman’s notion, that faith is
merely an assent to the Bible; and not only undervaluing, but even
ridiculing, the whole experience of the children of God. I rejoice,
that your ladyship is still preserved from that spreading contagion,
and also enabled plainly and openly to avow the plain, old, simple,
unfashionable gospel.
“Wishing your ladyship many happy years, I remain, my dear lady, your
very affectionate servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[6]
A few months after this, Wesley went to Scotland, where the Countess of
Buchan resided, and there wrote, and probably preached, his remarkable
sermon, “The Good Steward,” in which, with great emphasis, he lays down
the doctrine, that we hold _in trust_ our souls, our bodies, our goods,
and all our other talents; and, for the _use_ of them, must render an
account at the judgment seat of Christ. This was dealing faithfully
with his noble patroness, as well as with others; for the sermon was
immediately published in 12mo, 24 pages, with the title, “The Good
Steward. A Sermon, by John Wesley, Chaplain to the Right Honourable the
Countess Dowager of Buchan.”
Wesley was not the man to be elated by being noticed by the rich, the
noble, and the great. He was thankful for their help; but far from
being proud of their approbation. Many of his most trusted friends
were poor and mean in reference to this world’s goods; but, at the
same time, were possessed of riches incomparably superior to all the
gold existing. The following letter, addressed to Fletcher of Madeley,
though a month or two out of its chronological order, refers to these
and to other matters.
“BIRMINGHAM, _March 20, 1768_.
“DEAR SIR,--Mr. Eastbrook told me yesterday, that you are sick of
the conversation even of them who profess religion,--that you find
it quite unprofitable, if not hurtful, to converse with them, three
or four hours together, and are sometimes almost determined to shut
yourself up, as the less evil of the two.
“I do not wonder at it at all, especially considering with whom you
have chiefly conversed for some time past, namely, the hearers of
Mr. Madan, or Mr. Bourian, perhaps I might add, of Mr. Whitefield.
The conversing with these I have rarely found to be profitable to my
soul. Rather it has damped my desires; it has cooled my resolutions,
and I have commonly left them with a dry, dissipated spirit.
“And how can you expect it to be otherwise? For do we not naturally
catch their spirit with whom we converse? And what spirit can we
expect them to be of, considering the preaching they sit under? Some
happy exceptions I allow; but, in general, do men gather grapes of
thorns? Do they gather constant, universal self denial, the patience
of hope, the labour of love, inward and outward self devotion,
from the doctrine of absolute decrees, of irresistible grace, of
infallible perseverance? Do they gather these fruits from antinomian
doctrine? Or from any that borders upon it? Do they gather them from
that _amorous way_ of praying to Christ? or that _luscious_ way of
preaching His righteousness? I never found it so. On the contrary, I
have found, that even the precious doctrine of salvation by faith has
need to be guarded with the utmost care, or those who hear it will
slight both inward and outward holiness.
“I will go a step farther: I seldom find it profitable for _me_ to
converse with any who are not athirst for perfection, and who are
not big with earnest expectation of receiving it every moment. Now
you find none of these among those we are speaking of; but many,
on the contrary, who are in various ways, directly and indirectly,
opposing the whole work of God,--that work, I mean, which God is
carrying on, throughout this kingdom, by unlearned and plain men;
in consequence of which His influence must, in some measure, be
withdrawn from them. Again: you have, for some time, conversed a good
deal with the genteel Methodists. Now it matters not a straw what
doctrine they hear,--whether they frequent the Lock or West Street.
They are, almost all, salt which has lost its savour, if ever they
had any. They are thoroughly conformed to the maxims, the spirit, the
fashions, and customs of the world. Certainly then, ‘_Nunquam ad eos
homines ibis quin minor homo redibis_.’
“But were these or those of ever so excellent a spirit, you conversed
with them too long. One had need to be an angel, not a man, to
converse three or four hours at once, to any purpose. In the latter
part of such conversation, we shall doubtless lose all the profit we
had gained before.
“But have you not a remedy for all this in your hands? In order to
have truly profitable conversation, may you not select persons clear
both of Calvinism and antinomianism? not fond of that luscious way
of talking, but standing in awe of Him they love; who are vigorously
working out their salvation, and are athirst for full redemption,
and every moment expecting it, if not already enjoying it? It is
true, these will generally be poor and mean, seldom possessed of
either riches or learning, unless there be now and then a _rara
avis in terris_: a Miss March, or Betty Johnson. If you converse
with these, humbly and simply, an hour at a time, with prayer before
and prayer after, you will not complain of the unprofitableness of
conversation, or find any need of turning hermit.
“As to the conference, at Worcester, on lay preaching, do not you
observe almost all the lay preachers--(1) Are connected with
me? and--(2) Are maintainers of universal redemption? _Hinc illæ
lacrymæ!_ These gentlemen do not love _me_, and do love particular
redemption. If these laymen were connected with them, or if they were
Calvinists, all would be well. Therefore, I should apprehend you will
have two things to do:--1. Urge the argument, the strength of which
I believe is in the Second Appeal, and, above all, in the Letter
to a Clergyman. 2. Apply to the conscience, ‘You do not love Mr.
Wesley enough: you love your opinions too much; otherwise this debate
would never have arisen: for it is undeniable, these quacks cure
whom we cannot cure, they save sinners all over the nation. God is
with them, and works by them, and has done so for near these thirty
years. Therefore, the opposing them is neither better nor worse than
fighting against God.’
“I am your ever affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[7]
One more letter may be introduced, before we turn to Wesley’s journal.
At the beginning of 1768, a third son was born to Charles Wesley, and
it was naturally the wish of such a father, that one of his three sons
might become a minister of Christ,--a wish, however, that was not
realised. Wesley alludes to this, and to the yearly collections and
other things, in the following to his brother, showing that Charles
either seldom attended conference, or, if he did attend, took little
interest in its financial matters.
“LONDON, _January 15, 1768_.
“DEAR BROTHER,--Six or seven hundred pounds is brought to a
conference: of which five hundred at least pays the debt.[8] Then
extraordinary demands are answered. How much remains for law? I am
now near £300 out of pocket, which I borrowed to pay Mr. Pardon.
When I receive some more from Newcastle, I will send it to Bristol;
probably very soon.
“It is highly probable, one of the three will stand before the Lord.
But, so far as I can learn, such a thing has scarce been for these
thousand years, as a son, father, grandfather, _atavus_, _tritavus_,
preaching the gospel, nay, and the genuine gospel, in a line. You
know, Mr. White, sometime chairman of the Assembly of Divines, was my
grandmother’s father.
“Look upon our little ones at Kingswood as often as you can. A word
from you will be a quickening to them. Oh how many talents are we
entrusted with. We have need to gird up the loins of our mind, and
run faster the small remainder of our race. ‘One thing!’--let us mind
one thing only; and nothing great or small, but as it ministers to
it! Peace be with you and yours! Adieu!
“JOHN WESLEY.”[9]
Wesley’s first journey from London, in 1768, was on the 18th of
February, to Chatham. Methodism of some sort had existed here for
a considerable time. As early as 1751, the _Gentleman’s Magazine_
relates, that a man and his wife at Chatham, both of them being
Methodists, had hanged themselves; and that, in order to prove the
man a lunatic, his friends produced, to the coroner’s jury, the New
Testament, on a roll of paper, which the man had written with his
blood.[10]
Wesley writes: “Thursday, February 18--Having been importunately
pressed thereto, I rode through a keen east wind to Chatham. About
six in the evening, I preached at the barracks, in what they call the
church. It is a large room, in which the chaplain reads prayers, and
preaches now and then. It was soon as hot as an oven, through the
multitude of people; some hundreds of whom were soldiers; and they were
‘all ear,’ as Mr. Boston says, scarcely allowing themselves to breathe.
Even between five and six the next morning, the room was warm enough.
I suppose upwards of two hundred soldiers were a part of the audience.
Many of these are already warring a good warfare.”
This was Wesley’s first visit to Chatham; but not his last. From the
beginning, he had loved soldiers, and, to the end, it was always a
pleasure to preach to them.
On March 6, he set out on his long northern journey, which occupied the
next five months. A few jottings respecting it may be acceptable.
At Gloucester, a “noisy and mischievous mob” had been “taken in
hand and tamed by an honest magistrate.” Cheltenham was “a quiet,
comfortable place,” despite the “rector and the anabaptist minister.”
At Worcester, the difficulty was, where to preach, no room being large
enough to contain the people, and it being too cold for them to stand
in the open air. At length, a friend offered the use of his barn,
which “was larger than many churches.” “Nothing,” says Wesley, “is
wanting here but a commodious house.” Such a house was built four years
afterwards,[11] and lasted till 1812, when good old James M‘Kee Byron
and the Worcester Methodists were mad enough to build another costing
upwards of £8000, the great bulk of which was left to be paid by their
successors.[12]
At Evesham, Wesley preached in the parish church; and was announced, by
the vicar, to do the same at Pebworth; but “the squire of the parish”
interposed an interdict, and therefore he preached in the open air.
At Birmingham, the tumults, of so many years’ continuance, were “now
wholly suppressed by a resolute magistrate.” Here Wesley met “with a
venerable monument of antiquity, George Bridgins, in the one hundred
and seventh year of his age, still able to walk to preaching, and
retaining his senses and understanding tolerably well.”
On Sunday, March 20, Wesley preached at West Bromwich, where a small
society of about twenty persons had been kept together by Francis
Asbury, a native of a neighbouring parish, but afterwards the Methodist
bishop of the United States.
Five years before, at Wolverhampton, the mob had levelled the Methodist
meeting-house to the ground, and four young fellows concerned in the
outrage had been sent to prison;[13] but now, says Wesley “all was
quiet: only those who could not get into the house made a little noise
for a time; and some hundreds attended me to my lodging; but it was
with no other intent than to stare.”
Wesley pronounces Newcastle under Lyme “one of the prettiest towns
in England.” Though it was extremely cold, the largeness of the
congregation constrained him to preach in the open air; “a more
attentive or better behaved congregation” he “scarce ever saw.” Sixteen
years later, Newcastle had a society of one hundred and nine members,
the leaders of whom were John Glynn, William Bayley, Robert Keeling,
and Thomas Bamfield.[14]
At Burslem, on March 25, he opened the new chapel; and, at Congleton,
had “an elegant, yet earnestly attentive congregation,” the behaviour
of the society having won the approbation of all the people in the
town, except “the curate, who still refused to give the sacrament to
any who would not promise to hear the Methodist preachers no more.”
For nine years past, the Methodists had been wont to meet in a room
provided by Dr. Troutbeck, behind his own residence; and here they had
been subjected to the same sort of outrages that most towns in the
kingdom thought it their duty to commit upon the Methodists. Drums
were beaten to disturb their services; dogs were let loose in their
congregations; and rotten eggs and filth were often hurled at them in
plentiful profusion; but, by their godly behaviour, they had outlived
all this, and now had a galleried chapel, capable of containing about
four hundred persons.
Wesley spent Sunday, March 27, at Macclesfield, where he preached to
“thousands upon thousands.” A few years before, George Pearson and
Elizabeth Clulow had opened a preaching house, which would hold forty
people, and which, to prevent ejectment, they secured to themselves
for forty years. “Ah, George!” said Mrs. Clulow, when they first went
into it, “we shall never be able to fill the place; why, it will hold
forty folk;” to which Mr. Pearson replied, “I’ll warrant you; hold up
your heart.” The result was as George predicted. In a month the room
was crammed, and a hole was cut through the chamber floor, so that
the preacher might, at the same time, address those above as well as
those below. Soon after this, Mr. Ryles gave ground and materials for a
chapel, on condition that Mrs. Clulow would pay the workmen their wages
for building it. This was done in 1764, and now, in 1768, Methodism in
Macclesfield was fairly started.[15]
From Macclesfield, Wesley proceeded to Stockport, Manchester, and
New Mills. He writes: “Wednesday, March 30--I rode to a little town
called New Mills, and preached in their large new chapel, which has a
casement in every window, three inches square! That is the custom of
the country!” This well ventilated chapel was built principally by Mr.
and Mrs. Beard, the parents of the wife of the late T. Holy, Esq., of
Sheffield.[16]
Coming to Liverpool, on April 6, Wesley says: “We had a huge
congregation at Liverpool; but some pretty, gay, fluttering things
did not behave with so much good manners as the mob at Wigan. The
congregations in general were quite well behaved, as well as large,
both morning and evening; and I found the society both more numerous
and more lively than ever it was before.”
One of these “huge congregations,” after a sermon by Wesley, on Sunday,
April 10, were munificent enough to make a collection amounting to £1
4_s._ 9_d._; and the society, which was more numerous and lively than
ever, aided by the general congregations, managed to contribute, in
their classes and at public collections, from September 1, 1768, to
January 16, 1769, the sum of £10 17_s._ 5_d._ for the support of the
work of God among them.[17] Such was Liverpool Methodism a hundred
years ago!
On April 19, Wesley arrived in Glasgow, and says: “We have few
societies in Scotland like this. The greater part of the members not
only have found peace with God, but continue to walk in the light
of His countenance. That wise and good man, Mr. Gillies, has been
of great service to them, encouraging them to abide in the grace of
God.” Three years before this, Thomas Taylor had been sent to Glasgow,
and, after travelling several hundreds of miles to his appointment,
had, as his first congregation, two bakers’ boys and two old women,
which congregation, however, kept increasing till it reached about two
hundred. Taylor tells us, that for want of means he never kept so many
fast days as he did in Glasgow; and, though he ultimately obtained a
preaching room, and formed a society, and engaged to pay a precentor
fourpence for each service at which he led off the psalms, he found it
so difficult to raise the money that he dismissed the psalms and the
psalm singer all together. He left behind him, however, a society of
seventy members.
One of these was Robert Mackie, who, for thirty years, acted as a
faithful classleader; and another was a poor old woman, concerning
whom John Pawson, in an unpublished letter, tells the following story.
Meeting in the street the minister of the kirk she had been accustomed
to attend, she was thus accosted: “Oh, Janet, where have ye been,
woman? I have no seen ye at the kirk for long.” “I go,” said Janet,
“among the Methodists.” “Among the Methodists!” quoth the minister;
“why what gude get ye there, woman?” “Glory to God!” replied Janet, “I
do get gude; for God, for Christ’s sake, has forgiven me aw my sins!”
“Ah, Janet,” said the minister, “be not highminded, but fear; the
devil is a cunning adversary.” “I dunna care a button for the deevil,”
answered Janet, “I’ve gotten him under my feet. I ken the deevil can
do muckle deal, but there is ane thing he canna do.” “What is that,
Janet?” “He canna shed abroad the love of God in my heart; and I am
sure I’ve got it there!” “Weel, weel!” replied the good tempered man,
“if ye have got there, Janet, hold it fast, and never let it go!”
Wesley’s information was sometimes incorrect. From what he had heard,
he expected to find a numerous and lively society at Perth; but,
instead of that, he “found not above two believers, and scarce five
awakened persons in it.”
At Aberdeen, the society was knit together in peace and love, and the
congregations large and deeply attentive; but, among them, were “many
rude, stupid creatures, who knew as little of reason as of religion,”
and one of whom threw a potato at Wesley.
Having spent a month in Scotland, Wesley reached Berwick on the 18th
of May, and proceeded to Newcastle, in the neighbourhood of which he
employed the next ten days.
At Sunderland, he had an interview with Elizabeth Hobson, a young
woman of twenty-four years of age; and took down, from her own lips,
what he properly designates “one of the strangest accounts that he
ever read.” The substance of it is to illustrate her assertion, that,
from her childhood, when any of her neighbours died, she used to see
them, either just at the time of their decease, or a little previous.
He says: “The well known character of Elizabeth Hobson excludes all
suspicion of fraud, and the nature of the circumstances themselves
excludes the possibility of delusion. The reader may believe the
narrative if he pleases; or may disbelieve it, without any offence
to me. Meantime, let him not be offended if I believe it, till I see
better reason to the contrary.” After this follow Elizabeth Hobson’s
bewildering statements.
Wesley has been censured and ridiculed for this credulity. Southey
says, “he invalidated his own authority by listening to the most absurd
tales and recording them as authenticated facts.” Did Wesley deserve
this? The reader must not forget the undeniable, though mysterious,
supernatural noises in the Epworth rectory. He must also bear in mind,
that one of the most striking features in Wesley’s religious character
was his deep rooted, intense, powerful, and impelling conviction of
the dread realities of an unseen world. This great conviction took
possession of the man; he loved it, cherished it, tried to instil it
into all his helpers and all his people; and, without it, he would
never have undertaken the Herculean labour, and endured the almost
unparalleled opprobrium, that he did. Besides, his own justification of
himself is more easily sneered at than answered. He writes:--
“With my latest breath, will I bear my testimony against giving up
to infidels one great proof of the invisible world; I mean, that of
witchcraft and apparitions, confirmed by the testimony of all ages.
The English, in general, and, indeed, most of the men of learning
in Europe, have given up all accounts of witches and apparitions,
as mere old wives’ fables. I am sorry for it; and I willingly take
this opportunity of entering my solemn protest against this violent
compliment, which so many that believe the Bible pay to those who do
not believe it. I owe them no such service. I take knowledge, these
are at the bottom of the outcry which has been raised, and with such
insolence spread throughout the nation, in direct opposition not only
to the Bible, but to the suffrage of the wisest and best of men in
all ages and nations. They well know (whether Christians know it,
or not) that the giving up witchcraft is, in effect, giving up the
Bible; and they know, on the other hand, that if but one account of
the intercourse of men with separate spirits be admitted, their whole
castle in the air--deism, atheism, materialism--falls to the ground.
I know no reason, therefore, why we should suffer even this weapon to
be wrested out of our hands. Indeed, there are numerous arguments
besides this, which abundantly confute their vain imaginations.
But we need not be hooted out of one; neither reason nor religion
requires this. One of the capital objections to all these accounts
is, ‘Did you ever see an apparition yourself?’ No, nor did I ever
see a murder; yet I believe there is such a thing. The testimony of
unexceptionable witnesses fully convinces me both of the one and the
other.”[18]
At the same time, it is only fair to add that, though Wesley was a firm
believer in witches and apparitions, he was not the fanatic which some
had been before him; hence, in 1769, he writes: “I read Mr. Glanvill’s
‘Sadducismus Triumphatus;’ but some of his relations I cannot receive,
and much less his way of accounting for them. All his talk of ‘aerial
and astral spirits,’ I take to be stark nonsense. Indeed, supposing the
facts true, I wonder a man of sense should attempt to account for them
at all. For who can explain the things of the invisible world, but the
inhabitants of it?”
Before proceeding further in Wesley’s history, extracts from two or
three of his letters, belonging to this period, may be inserted here.
Separation from the Church, and the doctrine of Christian perfection,
were points still far from being settled. Hence the following to his
brother.
“EDINBURGH, _May 14, 1768_.
“DEAR BROTHER,--I am at my wits’ end with regard to two things--the
Church, and Christian perfection. Unless both you and I stand in the
gap in good earnest, the Methodists will drop them both. Talking will
not avail. We must _do_, or be borne away. Will you set shoulder to
shoulder? If so, think deeply upon the matter, and tell me what can
be done. ‘_Age, vir esto! nervos intendas tuos._’ Peace be with you
and yours! Adieu!
“JOHN WESLEY.”[19]
A month later, Wesley recurs to the same subject, and congratulates his
brother on the results of his removing to London.
“_June 14, 1768._
“DEAR BROTHER,--I rejoice to hear, from various persons, so good
an account of the work of God in London. You did not come thither
without the Lord, and you find your labour is not in vain. I doubt
not but you will see more and more fruit, while you converse chiefly
with them that are athirst for God. I find a wonderful difference
in myself when I am among these, and when I am among fashionable
Methodists. On this account, the north of England suits me best,
where so many are groaning after full redemption.
“But what shall we do? I think it is high time, that you and I, at
least, should come to a point. Shall we go on in asserting perfection
against all the world? Or shall we quietly let it drop? We really
must do one or the other; and, I apprehend, the sooner the better.
What shall we jointly and explicitly maintain, and recommend to all
our preachers, concerning the nature, the time (now or by-and-by),
and the manner of it? instantaneous or not? I am weary of intestine
war; of preachers quoting one of us against the other. At length, let
us fix something for good and all, either the same as formerly, or
different from it.--Ερρωσο.
“JOHN WESLEY.”[20]
Dr. Erskine’s attack on Wesley has been already mentioned (see Vol.
II., p. 530). During Wesley’s visit to Scotland, he sought an interview
with his opponent, and refers to their points of difference in the
following interesting letter to the Rev. Mr. Plendelieth, of Edinburgh.
“_May 23, 1768._
“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,--Some years ago, it was reported that I
recommended the use of a crucifix, to a man under sentence of death.
I traced this up to its author, Dr. Stennett, an anabaptist teacher.
He was charged with it. He answered, ‘Why I saw a crucifix in his
cell (a picture of Christ on the cross), and I knew Mr. Wesley used
to visit him, so I _supposed_ he had brought it.’ This is the whole
of the matter. Dr. Stennett himself I never saw; nor did I ever see
such a picture in the cell; and I believe the whole tale is pure
invention.
“I had, for some time, given up the thought of an interview with
Mr. Erskine, when I fell into the company of Dr. Oswald. He said,
‘Sir, you do not know Mr. Erskine. I know him perfectly well. Send
and desire an hour’s conversation with him, and I am sure he will
understand you better.’ I am glad I did send. I have done _my_ part,
and am now entirely satisfied. I am likewise glad, that Mr. Erskine
has spoken his mind. I will answer with all simplicity, in full
confidence of satisfying _you_, and all impartial men.
“He objects, (1) That I attack predestination as subversive of all
religion, and yet suffer my followers, in _Scotland_, to remain in
that opinion.
“Much of this is true. I did attack predestination eight-and-twenty
years ago; and I do not believe now any predestination which implies
irrespective reprobation. But I do not believe, it is _necessarily
subversive_ of all religion. I think hot disputes are much more so.
Therefore, I never willingly dispute with any one about it; and I
advise all my friends, not in Scotland only, but all over England
and Ireland, to avoid all contention on the head, and let every man
remain in his own opinion. Can any man of candour blame me for this?
Is there anything _unfair_ or _disingenuous_ about it?
“He objects, (2) That I ‘assert the attainment of sinless perfection
by all that are born of God.’ I am sorry, that Mr. Erskine should
affirm this again. I need give no other answer than I gave before,
in the seventh page of the little tract I sent him two years ago.
I do not maintain this. I do not believe it. I believe Christian
perfection is not attained by any of the children of God, till they
are what the apostle John terms _fathers_; and this I expressly
declare in that sermon which Mr. Erskine so largely quotes.
“He objects, (3) That I ‘deny the imputation of Christ’s active
obedience.’ Since I believed justification by faith, which I have
done upwards of thirty years, I have constantly maintained, that we
are pardoned and accepted wholly for the sake of what Christ hath
both _done and suffered_ for us. Two or three years ago, Mr. Madan’s
sister showed him what she had wrote down of a sermon which I had
preached on this subject. He entreated me to write down the whole and
print it, saying, it would satisfy all my opponents. I was not so
sanguine as to expect this: I understood mankind too well. However, I
complied with his request; a few were satisfied; the rest continued
just as they were before.
“As long as Mr. Erskine continues in the mind expressed in his
Theological Essays, there is no danger, that he and I should agree,
any more than light and darkness. I love and reverence him; but not
his doctrine. I dread every approach to antinomianism. I have seen
the fruit of it, over the three kingdoms. I never said, that Mr.
Erskine and I were agreed. I will make our disagreement as public as
ever he pleases: only I must withal specify the particulars. If he
_will_ fight with me, it must be on this ground; and then let him do
what he will, and what he can.
“Retaining a due sense of your friendly offices, and praying for a
blessing on all your labours, I remain, reverend and dear sir, your
affectionate brother and servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[21]
These were mutterings before the storm,--skirmishes before the
battle,--a prelude to the great Calvinian controversy of 1770 and
onwards.
We abruptly turn to another matter. Wesley was a man who believed in
the importance of making preparations for dying, in more respects than
one. He writes on the last day of the year 1786: “From these words,
‘Set thy house in order,’ I strongly exhorted all who had not done
it already, to settle their temporal affairs without delay. It is a
strange madness which still possesses many, that are in other respects
men of understanding, who put this off from day to day, till death
comes in an hour when they looked not for it.”
Wesley acted upon his own advice. He was without money; but he had
books, etc.: and to prevent quarrels after he was dead, he made more
wills than one respecting their disposal. One executed in 1768 was, of
course, different from his last, executed in 1789; and, as something
more than a curiosity, we subjoin a verbatim copy, made from the
original in Wesley’s own handwriting.
“In the name of God. Amen! I, John Wesley, Clerk, revoking all other,
appoint this to be my last Will and Testament.
“I bequeath to my brother Charles Wesley, (but in case of his demise
to the School in Kingswood,) my Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French,
and German books (except those, in any language, in the study at
Kingswood School, which I bequeath to the said School; and those
in my studies at Bristol, Newcastle upon Tyne, and Dublin, which I
desire may remain there for the use of the Travelling Preachers); and
all my gowns, cassocks, and bands. To James Morgan, I bequeath my
watch; to my faithful Housekeeper, Ann Smith, Mrs. Lefevre’s ring;
to Mr. Peter Jaco, my bureau at London; to him, to the Rev. William
Ley, and to each Travelling Preacher, who has them not already, a set
of my Sermons, Appeals, Journals, the Notes on the New Testament,
and the book on Original Sin; to the Rev. Mr. James Roquet, all my
manuscripts; to my dear friend, Mary Bosanquet, the set of my Works;
to my dear daughter, Jane Smith, the ‘Christian Library,’ now in my
study at London.
“I bequeath all my Books, which are for sale, with the sole right of
reprinting them, (after paying my brother’s Rent Charge upon them,)
to Mr. Melchias Teulon, Hatter, Mr. John Horton, Silkdyer, and Mr.
John Collinson, Hatter, in Trust, the one moiety for the keeping
the Children of Travelling Preachers at the School (to be chosen by
the Assistants at the Yearly Conference), the other moiety for the
continual relief of the Poor of the United Society in London. Only I
bequeath to Christiana Simpson, at Aberdeen, the Books which shall
remain with her, at the time of my decease.
“Lastly, I bequeath the residue of my Books and Goods to my wife,
Mary Wesley. And I appoint the said Melchias Teulon, John Horton, and
John Collinson, Executors of this my last Will and Testament.
“Witness my hand and seal,[22] this 27th day of April, 1768,
“JOHN WESLEY.
“Witnesses:
“WILLIAM SMITH.
“THOMAS SIMPSON.”
A man’s will is a document in which he generally makes mention of his
best beloved friends. On this ground, a few notes appended to Wesley’s
will of 1768 may be useful.
1. Wesley’s principal bequest, in 1768, was to Kingswood school, and to
the poor of the society in London. In 1789, this bequest was made to
“the general fund of the Methodist conference, in carrying on the work
of God by itinerant preachers.”
2. James Roquet was made the trustee of Wesley’s manuscripts in 1768;
but, having died during the interim, Dr. Coke, Dr. Whitehead, and Henry
Moore were appointed in 1789 to take his place.
3. In 1768, he bequeathed all his gowns, cassocks, and bands to his
brother; in 1789, to the clergymen preaching in City Road chapel,
London.
4. In 1768, James Morgan was to have his watch; but, in 1789, James
Morgan was dead, and Joseph Bradford got it.
5. In 1768, Mrs. Martha Hall had no bequest, for her bad husband was
then living; in 1789, he was dead, and hence her legacy of £40.
6. In 1768, there was a legacy for his wife; in 1789, his wife was in
her grave.
7. Wesley makes mention of his “dear daughter, Jane Smith.” This lady
was really his wife’s daughter, who was now married to Mr. William
Smith, of Newcastle upon Tyne, one of the witnesses.
8. James Roquet, to whom Wesley bequeathed his manuscripts, was the son
of a French Protestant refugee, was educated in the Merchant Taylors’
school in London, was converted under Whitefield’s ministry, graduated
at St. John’s college, Oxford, became master in Wesley’s school at
Kingswood, obtained episcopal ordination, and was now curate of St.
Werburgh, Bristol.
9. The Rev. William Ley, to whom Wesley bequeathed a set of his
publications, was, from the year 1760 to 1763, an itinerant preacher.
He was then episcopally ordained, and was now the curate of Lakenheath,
but likely to be dismissed by the vicar, to whom his Methodistic
preaching and procedure were offensive.[23]
10. Of one of the executors of Wesley’s will, John Collinson, we can
give no particulars.
11. The second, Mr. Teulon, was born at Bromley, in 1734; and was
sent to school at Nottingham. At fourteen, he was put apprentice to
his uncle, Mr. Wagner, of Pall Mall, hatter to King George II. He was
converted under the ministry of Romaine, joined the Methodists, and,
in 1761, married Miss Mecham, the daughter of one of the earliest
Methodists in London. For four years, he was Wesley’s London steward,
and was leader of a class. He was a man of some literary taste, and had
read most of the best English authors. He died in 1806, respected and
beloved by all who knew him.[24]
12. The third executor, John Horton, was a member of the common council
of London, sensible, well read, serious without gloom, cheerful without
levity, and polite without ceremony. The unhappy differences after
Wesley’s death induced him to leave the Methodists, and he went to
reside at Bristol.[25] He retained his warm attachment, however, to
“the _old ship_,” as he was accustomed to designate Wesley’s system;
again attended the Methodist preaching, and, only a few months before
his death, when his son was preparing for the university, declared to
Henry Moore, that he would “rather see his son a Methodist preacher,
than archbishop of Canterbury.” He died in peace about the year
1802.[26]
We left Wesley at Newcastle. On the 31st of May, he set out for
Weardale, Teesdale, and Swaledale, where he spent the next four days.
At Richmond, he preached in the market place, the Yorkshire militia
forming a considerable part of his congregation,--“a rude rabble rout,
without sense, decency, or good manners.” At Barnardcastle, the Durham
militia was a perfect contrast, officers and soldiers all behaving
well. Wesley’s visit to the “dales” circuit was a pleasant one. He
writes: “I have not found so deep and lively a work in any other part
of the kingdom as runs through the whole circuit, particularly in the
vales that wind between these horrid mountains.”
Returning to Newcastle, Wesley visited South Shields, and preached to
more than could hear him. Here the poor Methodists were often beaten,
rolled in the mud and in the snow, and sometimes narrowly escaped with
life: but, continuing faithful, God honoured them; a cockpit was turned
into a Methodist chapel,[27] and Methodism was firmly anchored.
On the 13th of June, Wesley left Newcastle for the south, and spent the
next six weeks in visiting his societies in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire.
The Rev. Thomas Adam, rector of Wintringham, one of the evangelical
clergymen of the period, has been already mentioned. Like some others,
this unquestionably pious man had become a determined opponent of the
Methodists, and hence the following letter, addressed to him by Wesley.
“SWINFLEET, _July 19, 1768_.
“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,--One of Wintringham informed me yesterday,
that you said no sensible and well meaning man could hear, and much
less join, the Methodists; because they all _acted under a lie_,
professing themselves members of the Church of England, while they
licensed themselves as Dissenters. You are a little misinformed. The
greater part of the Methodist preachers are not licensed at all; and
several of them that are, are not licensed as Dissenters.
“We are, in truth, so far from being enemies to the Church, rather
bigots to it. I dare not, like Mr. Venn, leave the parish church
where I am, to go to an Independent meeting. I dare not advise
others to go thither, rather than to church. I advise all, over whom
I have any influence, steadily to keep to the Church. Meantime, I
advise them to see, that the kingdom of God is within them; that
their hearts be full of love to God and man; and to look upon all,
of whatever opinion, who are like minded, as their ‘brother, and
sister, and mother.’ O sir! what art of men or devils is this,
which makes you so studiously stand aloof from those who are thus
minded? I cannot but say to you, as I did to Mr. Walker, ‘The
Methodists do not want you; but you want them.’ You want the life,
the spirit, the power, which they have; not of themselves, but by
the free grace of God; else how could it be, that so good a man, and
so good a preacher, should have so little fruit of his labour, his
unwearied labour, for so many years? Have your parishioners the life
of religion in their souls? Have they so much as the form of it?
Are the people of Wintringham, in general, any better than those of
Winterton, or Horton? Alas! sir, what is it that hinders your reaping
the fruit of so much pains and so many prayers?
“Is it not possible this may be the very thing, your setting
yourself against those whom God owns, by the continual conviction
and conversion of sinners? I fear, as long as you in anywise oppose
these, your rod will not blossom, neither will you see the desire of
your soul, in the prosperity of the souls committed to your charge.
“I am, dear sir, your affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[28]
In his journey southwards, Wesley visited, for the second time, his
friend Fletcher, at Madeley,--a man, in many respects, the opposite of
Mr. Adam of Wintringham, and especially in his feelings towards the
Methodists. So far from shunning them, or being ashamed of them, he, as
far as possible, identified himself with them; and, at the very last
conference before he died, entreated Wesley to make Madeley a circuit
town, and to put John Fletcher down as a supernumerary preacher there.
He made his kitchen a Methodist chapel, in which Wesley’s itinerants
and his own curate regularly preached; while his study was the place in
which were penned the ablest defences of Wesley’s doctrines that were
ever committed to the public press.
From Madeley, Wesley went to Shrewsbury, where, as early as 1744,
there was a poor woman, who had been converted in London under the
preaching of the Methodists, and who now obtained a living, by mending
her neighbours’ stockings. While thus employed, at their respective
houses, she would relate to them her religious experience, read to them
a sermon, and then engage in prayer. By this means, she had already
formed a society of sixteen or eighteen persons; and the Rev. Job
Orton, the well known author, a native of Shrewsbury, and at this time
its presbyterian minister, declared that this poor stocking-mending
Methodist was not only of “an excellent and serious spirit,” but had
had more success in converting sinners than he had had by all his
preaching.[29]
Leaving Shrewsbury, Wesley rode right through Wales to Pembroke,
where he “read prayers, preached, and administered the sacrament to
a serious congregation at St. Daniels;” and so tried to remove some
misunderstandings among the Methodists, that he “left the people
full of good desires, and in tolerable good humour with each other.”
Here Methodism had been begun seven years before, when Thomas Taylor
traversed mountains, forded rivers, and plunged through bogs, with an
empty purse and an empty stomach, seeking to save sinners with a zeal
and a spirit of self denial worthy of the noblest missionary that ever
lived.[30]
At Neath, where the minister of the parish was just dead, the
churchwardens announced, that Wesley would preach in the parish church.
He did so, but says: “I was greatly disgusted at the manner of singing.
1. Twelve or fourteen persons kept it to themselves, and quite shut out
the congregation. 2. These repeated the same words, contrary to all
sense and reason, six, or eight, or ten times over. 3. According to the
shocking custom of modern music, different persons sung different words
at one and the same moment; an intolerable insult on common sense, and
utterly incompatible with any devotion.”
After more than five months of laborious travelling, Wesley came to
Bristol on Saturday the 13th of August, between eleven and twelve
o’clock at night. His conference had to open two days afterwards;
but the first news he heard was, that his wife was dangerously ill
in London. He had about forty-eight hours before he must meet his
preachers, twenty-four of which were sabbatical. The distance to London
and back again was two hundred and twenty-eight miles; the roads not
the best; and the mode of travelling a perfect contrast to what exists
at present. Wesley was an aged man, of more than sixty-five; for nearly
six months he had been travelling and preaching incessantly, and might
now fairly wish for a few hours’ rest. But no sooner did he hear of his
wife’s affliction, than, notwithstanding her unloving heart and life,
he started off to London, which, by travelling most of the sabbath day,
he reached at one o’clock on Monday morning; when, finding that the
fever was abated and the danger gone, he set out again within an hour,
and, by hard driving, arrived in Bristol on Monday afternoon. Next
morning he opened his annual conference, and closed it the following
Friday, exclaiming, “Oh! what can we do for more labourers? We can only
cry to the Lord of the harvest.”
One of the chief points discussed at the present conference was,
whether the itinerant preachers should be allowed to engage in trade.
This was a question at once delicate and difficult. In the first
place, many of them had wives and children, the provision for whose
maintenance was of the most slender kind. Secondly, the men were not
ordained, and had no clerical status whatever. So far there seemed
to be no difficulty. But, in the third place, though not ordained,
the preachers were regarded by Wesley as occupying, to all practical
intents and purposes, the same position as the regular ministers of
the Church of England; and, hence, he considered it as unseemly and as
improper for his itinerants to be engaged in trade as it would be for
the clergy of the Established Church. “God,” says he, “has called us to
supply their lack of service to the sheep that are without shepherds,
and to spend and be spent therein. Every travelling preacher solemnly
professes to have nothing else to do; and receives his little allowance
for this very end, that he may not need to do anything else,--that he
may not be entangled in the things of this life, but may give himself
wholly to these things.”
The result was, the few preachers who had resorted to some kind of
trade, for the purpose of eking out the insufficient maintenance for
their families were _advised_ to give up their business as soon as
possible, and especially _hawking drops_ (which their wives might sell
at home), for it had “a bad appearance, and did not suit the dignity of
their calling.”
The increase of members during the year was 430. Wesley was not
satisfied with this. Hence the question:
“In many places the work of God seems to stand still. What can be
done to revive and enlarge it?”
“Answer--1. Much good has been done by the books which have been
published; and more would be, if they were spread more effectually.
“2. Let there be more field preaching; without this, the work of God
will hardly increase in any place.
“3. Let the preaching at five in the morning be constantly kept
up, wherever you can have twenty hearers. This is the glory of the
Methodists! Whenever this is dropped, they will dwindle away into
nothing. Rising early is equally good for soul and body. It helps
the nerves better than a thousand medicines; and, in particular,
preserves the sight, and prevents lowness of spirits, more than can
be well imagined.
“4. As soon as there are four men or women believers in any place,
put them into a _band_. In every place where there are bands, meet
them constantly, and encourage them to speak without reserve.
“5. Be conscientiously exact in the whole Methodist discipline.
One part of our discipline has been generally neglected, namely,
the changing of the stewards. This has been attended with many
ill consequences; many stewards have been ready to ride over the
preachers head. Let every assistant, at the next quarterly meeting,
change one steward at least, in every society, if there be therein
any other man that can keep an account.
“6. Beware of _formality_ in singing, or it will creep in upon us
unawares. Is it not creeping in already, by those complex tunes
which it is scarce possible to sing with devotion? Such is, ‘Praise
the Lord, ye blessed ones!’ Such the long quavering Hallelujah,
annexed to the Morning Song tune, which I defy any man living to sing
devoutly. The repeating the same word so often, especially while
another repeats different words, shocks all common sense, brings in
dead formality, and has no more of religion in it than a Lancashire
hornpipe. Do not suffer the people to sing too slow. This naturally
tends to formality, and is brought in by those who have very strong
or very weak voices. Why should not the assistant see, that they be
taught to sing in every large society?
“7. Let a quarterly fast be observed in all our societies.
“8. Which of us ‘fasts every Friday in the year’? Which of us fasts
at all? Does not this show the present temper of our minds soft
and unnerved? How then can we advance the work of God, though we
may preach _loud_ and _long_ enough? Here is the root of the evil.
Hence, the work of God droops; few are convinced, few justified, few
of our brethren sanctified! Hence, more and more doubt if we are
to be sanctified at all till death. That we may all speak the same
thing, I ask once for all, ‘Shall we defend this perfection or give
it up’? You all agree to defend it, meaning thereby, as we did from
the beginning, salvation from all sin, by the love of God and our
neighbour filling our heart. You are all agreed, we may be saved
from all sin _before death_. The substance then is settled. But as
to the circumstance, is the change instantaneous or gradual? It is
both one and the other. But should we in preaching insist upon both
one and the other? Certainly. But how far from entire sanctification
are we still! The religion of the Methodists, in general, is not
internal: at least, not deep, universal, uniform: but superficial,
partial, uneven. And what pains do we take to make it otherwise? Do
we visit from house to house, according to the plan laid down in
the minutes? Only spend half the time in _this visiting_, which you
spend in talking uselessly, and you will have time enough. Do this,
particularly in confirming and building up believers. Then, and not
till then, the work of the Lord will prosper in your hands. Unless,
also, we can take care of the _rising generation_, the present
revival of religion will be _res unius ætatis_, it will last only
the age of a man. Spend an hour a week with the children, in every
large town, whether you like it or not. Talk with them every time you
see any at home. Pray in earnest for them. Diligently instruct and
vehemently exhort all parents at their own houses. Read carefully
the life of Mr. Brainerd. Let us be followers of him, as he was of
Christ; in absolute self devotion, in total deadness to the world,
and in fervent love to God and man. We want nothing but this. Then
the world and the devil must fall under our feet. Lastly, let us keep
to the Church. They that leave the Church leave the Methodists. The
clergy cannot separate us from our brethren; the Dissenting ministers
can and do. Therefore, carefully avoid whatever has a tendency to
separate men from the Church. In particular, preaching at any hour
which hinders them from going to it. Let every assistant look to
this. Let all the servants in our preaching houses go to church on
Sunday morning at least. Let every preacher likewise go always on
Sunday morning, and, when he can, in the afternoon. God will bless
those who go on week days too, as often as they have opportunity.”
Wesley’s means, then, to promote a revival of the work of God, were
a diffusion of Methodist literature, field and morning preaching,
the enforcement of Methodist discipline, good singing, quarterly
fasts, the preaching of the doctrine of Christian perfection, house
to house visitation, attention to the young, continued union with the
Established Church, and, above all and more than all, more inward and
outward religion among the preachers.
Before leaving the conference of 1768, we insert a letter, which, so
far as we are aware, has not before been published, except in the
“Methodist Pocket Book” for 1799. It was addressed to James Morgan, one
of Wesley’s itinerant preachers, well read, and popular, but who had
sunk into a state of nervousness, and had settled down in the city of
Dublin.
“ST. JUST, NEAR THE LAND’S END, _September 3, 1768_.
“DEAR JEMMY,--I have been thinking much of _you_; and why should I
not tell you all I think, and all I fear, concerning you?
“I think all that you said at the conference upon the subject of the
late debates was right. And it amounted to no more than this: ‘the
general rule is, they who are in the favour of God know they are so.
But there may be some exceptions. Some may fear and love God, and yet
not be clearly conscious of His favour; at least, they may not dare
to affirm that their sins are forgiven.’ If you put the case thus,
I think no man in his senses will be tempted to contradict you; for
none can doubt, but whoever loves God is in the favour of God. But is
not this a little misstating the case? I do not conceive the question
turned here; but you said, or was imagined to say, ‘all penitents are
in God’s favour’; or, ‘all who mourn after God are in the favour of
God.’ And this was what many disliked; because they thought it was
unscriptural and unsafe, as well as contrary to what _we_ had always
taught. That this _is_ contrary to what _we_ had always taught, is
certain; as all our hymns, as well as other writings, testify: so
that (whether it be true or not), it is, without any question, a
_new_ doctrine among the Methodists. We have always taught, that a
_penitent mourned_, or was pained, on this very account, because
he felt he was not in the favour of God, but had the wrath of God
abiding on him. Hence we supposed the language of his heart to be,
‘Lost and undone for aid I cry’; and we believed he was really ‘lost
and undone,’ till God did
‘Peace, righteousness, and joy impart,
And speak Himself into his heart.’
“And I still apprehend this to be the scriptural doctrine, confirmed,
not by a few detached texts, but by the whole tenor of Scripture,
and, more particularly, of the Epistle to the Romans. But if so, the
contrary to it must be unsafe, for that general reason, because it
is unscriptural; to which one may add the particular reason, that it
naturally tends to lull mourners to sleep; to make them say, ‘Peace,
peace’ to their souls, when there is no peace.
“But it may be asked, ‘Will not this discourage mourners?’ Yes, it
will discourage them from stopping where they are; it will discourage
them from resting, before they have the witness in themselves, before
Christ is revealed in them. But it will _encourage_ them to seek in
the gospel way; to ask till they receive pardon and peace. And we are
to encourage them, not by telling them they are in the favour of God,
though they do not know it; (such a word as this we would never utter
in a congregation, at the peril of our souls;) but by assuring them,
‘Every one that seeketh findeth, every one that asketh receiveth.’
“I am afraid you have not been sufficiently wary in this; but
have given occasion to them that sought occasion. But this is not
all. I doubt you did not ‘see God’s hand in Shimei’s tongue.’
‘Unto you it _was given_ to suffer’ a little of what you extremely
wanted,--obloquy and evil report. But you did not acknowledge either
the gift or the Giver. You saw only T. Olivers, not God. O Jemmy, you
do not know yourself. You cannot bear to be continually steeped in
the esteem and praise of men. Therefore, I tremble at your stay at
Dublin; it is the most dangerous place for _you_ under heaven! All I
can say is, God _can_ preserve you in the fiery furnace, and I hope
He will.
“I am, dear Jemmy, yours affectionately,
“JOHN WESLEY.”
A letter has been already inserted in which Wesley congratulates his
brother on the reports he had received respecting the success of his
ministry in London. This was somewhat premature, for, in reality,
instead of there being an increase in the London circuit, there was
a decrease of seventy members; and there was a serious intention to
abandon the chapel in Spitalfields. Hence the following letter “to the
stewards of the Foundery.”
“PEMBROKE, _August 6, 1768_.
“MY DEAR BRETHREN,--The thing you mention is of no small concern,
and ought not to be determined hastily. Indeed, it would be easy
to answer, if we considered only how to save money; but we are to
consider also how to save souls. Now, I doubt whether we should act
wisely in this respect were we to give up the chapel in Spitalfields.
We have no other preaching place in or near that populous quarter
of the town; and a quarter which, upon one account, I prefer before
almost any other; namely, that the people in general are more simple,
and less confused by any other preachers. I think, therefore, it
would not be well to give up this, if we could gain a thousand pounds
thereby. I should look upon it as selling the souls of men for money;
which God will give us in due time without this. That many who live
near the Foundery would be glad of it I allow, because it would
save them trouble. But neither can I put the saving of trouble in
competition with the saving of souls.
“I am, my dear brethren, your affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[31]
Poor Spitalfields! Noble Wesley! Let the fashionable Methodists of the
present generation ponder such sentiments as these, and hesitate before
they abandon their old chapels, because surrounded by none but the
abject and the poor, and because keeping them open involves expense and
trouble.
It is a remarkable fact, that almost in the very year in which
Methodism was founded in America, it was instituted in Newfoundland.
For nine years, Laurence Coughlan was one of Wesley’s itinerants. In
1764, he was ordained by Erasmus, the Greek bishop, and was put away
from the Methodist connexion. In 1766,[32] he was reordained by the
Bishop of London, and was sent to Newfoundland by the Society for the
Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts. It is true, he went as a
clergyman of the Church of England, but he took his Methodism with him,
and established classes, in which the present Methodism of Newfoundland
had its origin. In a letter to Wesley, he writes:
“I am, and do confess myself, a Methodist. The name I love, and hope
I ever shall. The plan which you first taught me, as to doctrine and
discipline, I have followed. We have the sacrament once a month, and
have about two hundred communicants. This is more than all the other
missionaries in the land have: nor do I know of any who attend our
sacrament, who have not the fear of God; and some are happy in His
love. There are some also whose mouths the Lord hath opened to give a
word of exhortation; and I hope He will raise up many more.”
It would be a pleasant task to trace the steps of Mr. Coughlan in
Newfoundland; but suffice it to remark that he returned to England, and
shortly after, while conversing with Wesley in his study, was seized
with paralysis, and suddenly removed to his rest in heaven.[33]
Coughlan was one of those in London, who professed to receive the
blessing of Christian perfection; but, like many others, imbibed
fantastic notions respecting it. Soon after the conference of 1768,
Wesley wrote to him as follows.
“DEAR LAURENCE,--By a various train of providences you have been led
to the very place where God intended you should be; and you have
reason to praise Him, that He has not suffered your labour there to
be in vain. In a short time, how little will it signify, whether we
had lived in the Summer Islands, or beneath
‘The rage of Arctos and eternal frost!’
“How soon will this dream of life be at an end! And when we are once
landed in eternity, it will be all one, whether we spent our time on
earth in a palace, or had not where to lay our head.
“You never learned, either from my conversation, or preaching, or
writings, that ‘holiness consisted in a glow of joy.’ I constantly
told you quite the contrary: I told you it was the love of God and
our neighbour; the image of God stamped on the heart; the life of
God in the soul of man; the mind that was in Christ, enabling us to
walk as Christ also walked. If Mr. Maxfield, or you, took it to be
anything else, it was your own fault, not mine; and, whenever you
waked out of that dream, you ought not to have laid the blame of it
upon me. Perhaps you thought you had received what you had not. But
pray do not measure all men by yourself; do not imagine you are the
universal standard. If you deceived yourself, you should not infer
that all others do. Many think they are justified, and are not; but
we cannot infer, that none are justified. So neither, if many think
they are ‘perfected in love,’ and are not, will it follow that none
are so. Blessed be God, though we set a hundred enthusiasts aside,
we are still ‘encompassed with a cloud of witnesses,’ who have
testified, and do testify, in life and in death, that perfection
which I have taught these forty years! This perfection cannot be a
delusion, unless the Bible be a delusion too; I mean, loving God
with all our hearts, and our neighbour as ourselves. I pin down all
its opposers to this definition of it. No evasion! No shifting the
question! Where is the delusion of this? Either you received this
love, or you did not. If you did, dare you call it a delusion? If
you received anything else, it does not at all affect the question.
O Laurence, if sister Coughlan and you ever did enjoy this, humble
yourselves before God for casting it away; if you did not, God grant
you may!
“Yours, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[34]
Wesley had been incessantly travelling for nearly the last six months;
but no sooner were the sessions of the Bristol conference ended, than
he started off to Cornwall, where he spent the interval between August
26 and September 18. On his way, he preached to a serious congregation
at Taunton, and asks, “Shall we have fruit here also?” Wesley might
well ask this. For many a long year, he had been accustomed to preach
at Taunton, and had been received either with stupid indifference or
active contempt. As early as 1744, he attempted to preach in the yard
of the Three Cups inn; but had no sooner named his text, than the mayor
came, in all his full blown dignity, and ordered the proclamation to be
read, and silenced the preacher.[35] Almost a quarter of a century had
elapsed since then; and now there was a small society, of which one of
the members was Thomas Dingle, who for sixty-three years was a chief
supporter of the Taunton society, and one of its brightest ornaments.
Wesley’s labours in Cornwall were Herculean. Though now in the
sixty-sixth year of his age, for eight days together he preached,
“mostly in the open air, three or four times a day,” and says, “I
hardly felt any weariness, first or last.” He was also not without
adventures. At Polperro, his bedroom was filled with pilchards and
conger eels, which made him glad to accept the offer of another. At
Plymouth, on his return, a “silly man talked without ceasing” during
the sermon, till Wesley desired the people “to open to the right and
left, and let him look his garrulous disturber fairly in the face,”
upon which the noisy prater “pulled off his hat, and quietly went
away.” Between Charlton and Lympsham, the rivers were so swollen, that
Wesley’s horse had to swim, and Wesley himself had to be taken to his
lodgings on an “honest man’s shoulders.”
Reaching Bristol on September 24, Wesley spent the next few days in
visiting the neighbouring towns and villages. At Frome, he found the
liveliest society that there was in the Wiltshire circuit: a fact which
greatly surprised him, because the town was made up of a strange medley
“of men of all opinions,--anabaptists, quakers, presbyterians, Arians,
antinomians, Moravians, and what not.” He adds: “if any hold to the
truth, in the midst of all these, surely the power must be of God.”
The Frome Methodists, however, were not untrained recruits, but veteran
soldiers, who had stood the brunt of many a furious and fiery fight.
Twenty-two years before this, Methodism had been started in their town,
by a poor Bristol pedlar, who dealt in rags and small ware, singing to
the people Wesley’s hymns. Since then, a vagabond barber--a tool in the
hands of the parish priest--had dragged two Methodist women to prison.
Mrs. Seagram had been fined £20 for permitting her house to be used as
a preaching place; and, not being able to pay the fine, had had all her
stock in trade and her household goods sold by public auction, while
she and her two fatherless children were turned penniless out of doors.
In one instance, the mob rushed into the preaching room, seized the
benches, and made a bonfire of them. Methodism in Frome had outlived
all this; and, despite the sectarianism of the town, it was destined
still to live and prosper.
On October 24, Wesley set out for London, and employed the first week
in November in a preaching tour through the three counties of Hertford,
Bedford, and Northampton. At Hertford, a chapel had been built by Mr.
Andrews, who afterwards, in 1777, gave to Wesley’s new chapel in City
Road the pulpit which has been used in Methodism’s cathedral from that
time to this.[36]
The second week in November was spent in a similar visitation of the
societies in Oxfordshire. He writes: “I was desired to preach at
Oxford. The room was throughly filled, and not with curious, but deeply
serious hearers. Many of these desired, that our travelling preachers
would take them in their turn; with which I willingly complied.” Oxford
had been Methodism’s cradle, but the infant had long been absent.
Henceforth, Methodism was one of Oxford’s institutions; though, for
long, long years, it was a thing of feebleness and of small dimensions.
The “Oxfordshire” circuit extended over the greater part of Berkshire,
Wiltshire, and Buckinghamshire; and, even as late as 1787, there were
throughout the circuit only four Methodist chapels, namely, at Oxford,
Wycombe, Wallingford, and Witney. At Aylesbury, the Methodists preached
in the baptists’ chapel; at Newbury, in an ironfounder’s shop; and at
all the other places, in private houses. The small chapel in Oxford
was in New-Inn-Hall Lane;[37] and the Oxford home of the two unmarried
preachers, Joseph Entwisle and Richard Reece, was a garret in the house
of a journeyman shoemaker, for which the society paid sixpence a week
as rent; and which had to serve them as dining room, sitting room,
bedroom, and study,[38] all in one.
The third week in November was occupied in meeting the London classes;
and the fourth in a tour in Kent. The rest of the year was chiefly
spent in town.
Wesley was fervent, but not fanatical; he loved earnestness in
religious worship, but not disorder. Hence the following letter to Mr.
Merryweather, of Yarm.
“LEWISHAM, _December 10, 1768_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,--The matter is short: all things in Divine worship
must ‘be done decently and in order.’ Two must never pray at the
same time, nor one interrupt another. Either Alice Brammah must take
advice, or the society must be warned to keep away from her. These
are the very things which were the beginning of poor George Bell’s
fall.
“I am, your affectionate brother,