[118] Lady Maxwell’s Life, p. 72.
[119] _Methodist Magazine_, 1784, p. 388.
[120] Lady Maxwell’s Life, p. 22.
[121] Ibid.
[122] Doubtless his letter to Lady Huntingdon.
[123] _Methodist Magazine_, 1805, p. 279.
[124] Wesley’s Life of Fletcher.
[125] Manuscript letter.
[126] Benson’s Life, by Treffry.
[127] Wesley’s Works, vol. xi., p. 285.
[128] Probably Mr. Romaine.
[129] Fletcher’s Vindication, 1st Edit., p. 21.
[130] “Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon,” vol. ii.,
p. 240.
[131] Jackson’s Life of C. Wesley, vol. ii., p. 256.
[132] _Methodist Magazine_, 1797, p. 563.
[133] The minutes of the conference of 1770.
[134] The _italic_ words are emphasized in the original.
[135] Shirley’s “Narrative,” p. 5.
[136] _Methodist Magazine_, 1797, p. 253.
[137] Smith’s History of Methodism, vol. i., p. 394.
[138] “Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon,” vol. ii.,
p. 237.
[139] This was probably “The Consequence Proved,” to be
noticed shortly.
[140] Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., p. 127.
[141] Shirley’s “Narrative,” p. 8.
[142] Ibid. p. 10.
[143] Charles Wesley’s name is not in the list: a further
proof that, strangely enough, he was not at this most
important conference.
[144] This is the word in Shirley’s “Narrative”; but in
the _Gospel Magazine_ for August, 1771, the word
“justification” is used instead; and there can be
little doubt, that this was the reading of the
original declaration. The difference at first seems
slight, but, in reality, it is of great importance,
as the readers of Fletcher’s “Checks” will easily
perceive.
[145] Whitehead’s Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 349.
[146] Shirley’s “Narrative.”
[147] “Second Check,” 1st Edit., p. 40.
[148] See Sir Richard Hill’s Life, p. 191.
[149] There was also published, at this period, a smartly
written rebuke of Toplady, and a defence of Wesley,
entitled, “A Letter to the Rev. Mr. Augustus Toplady,
written in great part by himself, relative to part of
his printed Letter to the Rev. Mr. John Wesley.” 8vo,
21 pages.
[150] Manuscript letter.
[151] As a curiosity, and as tending to show that, in this
season of excitement, all men were not Wesley’s
enemies, we give an extract from a review of this
section of Wesley’s Journal, published in _Lloyd’s
Evening Post_, for January 20, 1772:--“In this
interval, between May 27, 1765, and May 5, 1768,
this zealous and truly laborious missionary of the
Methodists, who seems to consider the three kingdoms
as his parochial cure, twice traverses the greater
part of Ireland and Scotland, from Londonderry
to Cork, from Aberdeen to Dumfries, visiting and
confirming the churches, besides making a progress,
chiefly on horseback (in many places more than
once), through great part of Wales, and almost
all the counties in England, from Newcastle to
Southampton, from Dover to Penzance. Those who expect
to find in this Journal only the peculiar tenets of
Methodism will be agreeably disappointed, as they
are intermixed with such occasional reflections on
men and manners, on polite literature, and even on
polite places, as prove that the writer is endued
with a taste well cultivated both by reading and
observation; and above all with such a benevolence
and sweetness of temper, such an enlarged, liberal,
and truly protestant way of thinking towards those
who differ from him, as clearly show that _his
heart_, at least, is right, and justly entitle him to
that candour and forbearance, which, for the honour
of our common religion, we are glad to find he now
generally receives.”
1772.
Age 69
Wesley’s first journey from London, in 1772, was on the 16th of
January, when he came to Luton, and preached in the parish church. The
friendly clergyman, who gave him this permission, was the Rev. Mr.
Copleston, whose son afterwards became a Methodist local preacher, and
was driven from Luton by the iron hand of persecution, and then, after
preaching for a while at St. Albans, introduced Methodism into Leighton
Buzzard, where he died, in 1835, at the age of seventy, having been an
earnest Methodist more than fifty years.[152]
In a visit to Dorking, Wesley read Sterne’s “Sentimental Journey,”
and writes, “_Sentimental!_ What is that? It is not English; he might
as well say _continental_. It is not sense. It conveys no determinate
idea; yet one fool makes many, and this nonsensical word (who would
believe it?) is become a fashionable one! However, the book agrees full
well with the title; for one is as queer as the other. For oddity,
uncouthness, and unlikeness to all the world beside, I suppose the
writer is without a rival.” This was a bold criticism on Laurence
Sterne, and his recently published book, which was now immensely
popular. On his return from Dorking, on February 12, Wesley writes:
“I read a very different book, published by an honest quaker, on that
execrable sum of all villanies, commonly called the slave trade. I read
of nothing like it in the heathen world, whether ancient or modern;
and it infinitely exceeds, in every instance of barbarity, whatever
Christian slaves suffer in Mahommedan countries.”
This is a remarkable utterance. It was in this very year that Granville
Sharpe, the first of the English antislavery advocates, began to take
up the subject; and it was not until fifteen years after this, that the
“Society for the Suppression of the Slave Trade” was founded, of which,
besides Sharpe, two of the chief members were Thomas Clarkson, a young
graduate of Cambridge, and William Wilberforce, who was then M.P. for
the county of York. The book which Wesley read was probably written
by Anthony Benezet, a French protestant, who, after being educated in
England, became a quaker in Philadelphia; and, in 1762, published the
work which first attracted the attention of this country[153] to the
inhuman traffic, which Wesley so justly designates “that execrable
sum of all villanies.” Let it be noted that, besides all his other
honours, John Wesley, the poor, persecuted Methodist, was one of the
first advocates on behalf of the enthralled African that England had,
and that, sixty years before slavery was abolished in the dominions of
Great Britain, he denounced the thing in the strongest terms it was
possible to employ.
Before we accompany Wesley on his long northern tour, three other
facts, belonging to this period, may be briefly mentioned.
Ten years ago, Thomas Maxfield had dishonourably forsaken his old
friend, and had set up a rival church in the neighbourhood of
Moorfields. For some reason, he now seemed to desire a reunion. Wesley
was not the man to repel an overture even from one whose behaviour had
been ungrateful and treacherous. He met Maxfield; but writes: “He only
_seemed_ to desire a reunion; for when we explained upon the head, I
found he meant just nothing.”
Wesley was now close upon the age of threescore years and ten. His life
had been a scene of unparalleled activity; and, though still possessed
of amazing vigour, he had not the energy he had been wont to have.
His friends in London saw this; and hence the following entry in his
journal. “1772. Feb. 21.--I met several of my friends, who had begun a
subscription to prevent my riding on horseback, which I cannot do quite
so well, since a hurt which I got some months ago. If they continue it,
well; if not, I shall have strength according to my need.”
Wesley’s last act before leaving London was to open a new chapel
at Poplar. He writes: “1772. Feb. 28--I opened the new preaching
house in Poplar: one might say, consecrated it; for the English law
(notwithstanding the vulgar error) does not require, nay, does not
allow, any other consecration of churches than by performing public
service therein.”
Up to this period, the preaching at Poplar had been in private
dwellings, and in the workhouse, the mistress of which was a Methodist.
Now a wooden building was erected in High Street, which was long
called, out of derision, “the pantile shop.” One of the first members
was Benjamin King, who previous to this attended Gravel Lane chapel,
Wapping, one of the oldest Methodist meeting-houses in London, but
which was long since demolished for the making of the London Docks.
For many a year, Methodism at Poplar had a struggle for existence,
and often was Wesley importuned to give up the preaching there; but
his constant answer was, “Does the old woman” (Mrs. Clippendale)
“who sits in the corner of the long pew, still attend?” “O yes,” was
the reply; “she never misses.” “Then for her sake keep going,” was
Wesley’s rejoinder. The venerable woman, who was thus the means of
perpetuating Methodist preaching at Poplar, was a native of Swalwell,
near Newcastle, and, at twelve years of age, received her first society
ticket, in 1745, from the hands of Wesley. Four years later, she
came to London, and continued a faithful Methodist for above seventy
years.[154]
Strangely enough, it was now currently reported that Wesley was about
to leave England for America. The following refers to this.
“NEW YORK, _April 1, 1772_.
“REVEREND SIR,--By a letter from Mr. Lloyd, of London, we are
informed that you incline to visit America. Mr. Whitefield’s
preaching was of unspeakable use to many; but he preached mostly in
the seaport towns, and the most populous parts of the provinces,
where the gospel was known, though not preached in power. In the back
parts, which are now grown populous, the inhabitants are still in
a state of deplorable ignorance. If some zealous and able teachers
would engage heartily in the work of their conversion, how soon
might rivers spring forth in the desert, and these owls and dragons
of the wilderness give honour to God. No doubt, many in England and
elsewhere, who abound in wealth, would contribute towards erecting
schools to teach the children, and also towards the support of
preachers, if such an undertaking was properly set on foot. But who
is qualified for this work? I know none except yourself.
“But, dear sir, what concerns me more than all is the unhappy
condition of our negroes, who are kept in worse than Egyptian
bondage. The food we eat, the clothes we wear, and all the
superfluities we possess, are the produce of their labours; and what
do they receive in return? Nothing equivalent; on the contrary, we
keep from them the key of knowledge; so that their bodies and souls
perish together in our service! If, therefore, you are not too
advanced in years, I say to you, in the name of God, come over and
help us; in doing which you will greatly oblige many thousands, and,
among the rest, your friend and brother,
“JONATHAN BRYAN.”[155]
Did Wesley seriously think of this? We are not sure; but the following
characteristic letter to Walter Sellon will be read with interest.
“_February 1, 1772._
“DEAR WALTER,--You do not understand your information right. Observe,
‘I am going to America to turn bishop.’ You are to understand it _in
sensu composito_. I am not to be a bishop till I am in America. While
I am in Europe, therefore, you have nothing to fear. But as soon as
ever you hear of my being landed in Philadelphia, it will be time for
your apprehensions to revive. It is true, some of our preachers would
not have me stay, so long; but I keep my old rule, _Festina lente_.
“I am, dear Walter, your affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[156]
Previous to his leaving London, Wesley commenced a long correspondence,
which extended over the next two years, with Samuel Sparrow, Esq.,
a gentleman in the neighbourhood of Sheffield, who had published a
volume, entitled “Family Prayers and Moral Essays,” a copy of which
was presented to Wesley by the author. The writer has before him the
correspondence that ensued; and perhaps the following extracts, from
some of Wesley’s letters, will be acceptable.
“To the questions which you propose I answer: (1) I think that if
a hundred, or a hundred thousand, sincere, honest, humble, modest,
self diffident men were, with attention and care, to read the New
Testament, uninfluenced by any but the Holy Spirit, nine in ten of
them, at least, if not every one, would discover that the Son of God
was ‘adorable,’ and one God with the Father; and would be immediately
led to ‘honour Him even as they honoured the Father.’
“(2) Give a fair, impartial reading to that account of mankind in
their present state, which is contained in the book on original sin.
It is no play of imagination, but plain, clear fact. We see it with
our eyes, and hear it with our ears daily. Heathens, Turks, Jews,
Christians of every nation, are such men as are there described. Such
are the tempers, such the manners, of lords, gentlemen, clergymen
in England, as well as of tradesmen and the low vulgar. No man in
his senses can deny it: and none can account for it, but upon the
supposition of original sin.
“On Scripture and common sense I build all my principles; and just so
far as it agrees with these, I regard human authority.
“There is too ‘just ground for charging the preachers both at
Blackfriars church, the chapel at the Lock,[157] and the Tabernacle,
with grievous want of charity; for most of them flatly maintain, ‘all
who do not believe as they believe, are in a state of damnation;’
all who do not believe the absolute decree of election, which
necessarily infers absolute reprobation. My brother and I set out on
two principles: (1) None go to heaven without holiness of heart and
life; (2) Whoever follows after this, whatever his opinions be, is my
brother; and we have not swerved a hair’s breadth from either the one
or the other to this day.”
On the 1st of March Wesley set out on his northern visitation, and did
not return to London until seven months afterwards. It was now that
he preached his first sermon in the town of Leek, where Thomas Hanby,
eighteen years before, had formed a society at the peril of his life.
“Kill him, kill him,” bawled the mob, as they pelted him with showers
of stones; but the young evangelist, then only in the twenty-first year
of his age, mercifully escaped; and the rabble, headed by a lawyer, had
to content themselves with merely burning him in effigy.[158]
Wesley writes: “March 27, 1772.--While I was dining at Leek, some
gentlemen of the town sent to desire I would give them a sermon. As it
seemed to be a providential call, I did not think it right to refuse. A
large congregation quickly ran together, and were deeply attentive.”
A society had recently been gathered at Nantwich, of which Mr. Salmon,
an eccentric Christian gentleman, and some of his sisters, were
members; and hence Nantwich was now added to the places which Wesley
had to visit. This was probably the Mr. Salmon who was to have gone
with the Wesleys to Georgia, but who was forcibly detained in his
Cheshire home by his father and mother, who were distracted at the
thought of their son leaving them. Joseph Whittingham Salmon had a
good heart, but muddy head. Soon after this, he began to preach,[159]
and, at the death of his wife, in 1785, published a long rigmarole
funeral sermon, 8vo, 39 pages, which he preached in Barker Street
chapel, Nantwich, and which is strongly spiced with the mystical
delusion into which he had fallen. It is scarcely too much to say, that
the weak mind of this well meaning man henceforth lost its balance, and
that mystic pride and _cacoethes scribendi_ were the chief features
that distinguished the close of a lengthened but lustreless life. His
wife, however, and several of the Misses Salmon were intelligent and
earnest Methodists, and were among the earliest friends of Hester Ann
Roe, afterwards Mrs. Rogers.[160]
There was another gentleman of note, near Nantwich, Sir Thomas
Broughton, of Doddington Hall, who had a chapel in his park, and who,
though not a Methodist, himself read or preached to the congregation
the whole of Wesley’s sermons from first to last.[161] Salmon tells
us, that this “reverend baronet,” as he calls him, at the death of his
lady, called together his eleven children and his thirty servants, at
eleven o’clock at night, and then, as they stood round the corpse, amid
midnight silence and the dim radiance of lighted tapers, engaged in
prayer, previous to the interment, the whole forming a scene not easily
forgotten.
These were Methodism’s auxiliaries in the town of Nantwich; but, for
long years, it had to struggle with adversity, its members worshipping
in an old hired baptist chapel until the year 1808, when, chiefly
through the help of Mr. Withinshaw, a new chapel was erected, and
Nantwich was made a circuit town.[162]
On the 5th of April, Wesley reached Bolton and Manchester. In reference
to the former town he writes: “How wonderfully has God wrought in
this place! John Bennet, some years ago, reduced this society from
sevenscore to twelve; and they are now risen to a hundred and seventy.”
At Manchester, Wesley “drank tea at Am. O.;” probably Adam Oldham’s,
and remarks: “But how was I shocked! The children that used to cling
about me, and drink in every word, had been at a boarding school. There
they had unlearned all religion, and even seriousness; and had learned
pride, vanity, affectation, and whatever could guard them against the
knowledge and love of God. Methodist parents, who would send your girls
headlong to hell, send them to a fashionable boarding school!”
Proceeding by way of Whitehaven and Carlisle, Wesley came to Glasgow
on April 18, and, a week later, arrived at Perth, where he was the
provost’s guest, and received an honour which fell to him only once
again in his long lifetime. He shall tell his own story.
“1772. April 28, Tuesday. We walked through the Duke of Athol’s
gardens, in which was one thing I never saw before,--a summerhouse in
the middle of a greenhouse, by means of which one might, in the depth
of winter, enjoy the warmth of May, and sit surrounded with greens
and flowers on every side.
“In the evening I preached once more at Perth, to a large and serious
congregation. Afterwards they did me an honour I never thought
of,--presented me with the freedom of the city. The diploma ran
thus:--
“‘_Magistratuum illustris ordo et honorandus senatorum cætus inclytæ
civitatis Perthensis, in debiti amoris et affectuum tesseram erga
Johannem Wesley, immunitatibus præfatæ civitatis, societatis etiam
et fraternitatis ædilitiæ privilegiis donarunt. Aprilis die 28, anno
Sal. 1772._’
“I question whether any diploma from the city of London be more
pompous, or expressed in better Latin.”
Eight days afterwards, the magistrates of Arbroath conferred on Wesley
a similar mark of their respect.
While in this part of Scotland, Wesley read two Scotch authors, upon
whom his criticisms are too racy to be omitted. He writes:
“In my way to Perth, I read over the first volume of Dr. Robertson’s
‘History of Charles the Fifth.’ I know not when I have been so
disappointed. It might as well be called the History of Alexander
the Great. Here is a quarto volume of eight or ten shillings’ price,
containing dry verbose dissertations on feudal government, the
substance of all which might be comprised in half a sheet of paper!
But ‘Charles the Fifth!’ Where is Charles the Fifth?
‘Leave off thy reflections, and give us thy tale!’”
“May 5. I read over, in my journey to Arbroath, Dr. Beattie’s
ingenious ‘Inquiry after Truth.’ He is a writer quite equal to his
subject, and far above the match of all the minute philosophers,
David Hume in particular, the most insolent despiser of truth and
virtue that ever appeared in the world. And, yet, it seems some
complain of this doctor’s using him with too great severity! I cannot
understand how that can be, unless he treated him with rudeness
(which he does not), since he is an avowed enemy to God and man, and
to all that is sacred and valuable on earth.”
On the 9th of May, Wesley reached Edinburgh, where his state of health
was made the subject of an important medical examination. It has
been already stated that, before he left London, his friends there,
perceiving signs of age and debility, had contributed to provide him
a carriage in which to pursue his extensive and laborious journeys.
Since then, in less than ten weeks, he had travelled, in his chaise
and on horseback, from London to Bristol, and thence to Birmingham,
Nottingham, Macclesfield, Chester, Liverpool, Manchester, Whitehaven,
Carlisle, Glasgow, Aberdeen, and Edinburgh, preaching there, and at
a great number of intervening towns and villages, sometimes as many
as four sermons in a day. He had had to encounter winter storms, to
wade mid-leg deep in snow, and to travel roads so execrably bad, that
sometimes he was literally bogged. Not unfrequently he preached in the
midst of piercing winds in the open air; and yet, there is not a single
entry in his journal indicative of failing health. Never, in his life,
was he more intent upon the prosecution of his great work than now.
Writing to his brother from Congleton, and again from Perth, he says:
“I find almost all our preachers, in every circuit, have done with
Christian perfection. They say, they believe it; but they never
preach it, or not once in a quarter. What is to be done? Shall we
let it drop, or make a point of it? Oh what a thing it is to have
_curam animarum_! You and I are called to this; to save souls from
death; to watch over them as those that must give account! If our
office implied no more than preaching a few times in a week, I could
play with it; so might you. But how small a part of our duty (yours
as well as mine) is this! God says to you, as well as me, ‘Do all
thou canst, be it more or less, to save the souls for whom My Son has
died.’ Let this voice be ever sounding in our ears; then shall we
give up our account with joy. _Eia age, rumpe moras!_ I am ashamed of
my indolence and inactivity. Your business, as well as mine, is to
save souls. When we took priests’ orders we undertook to make it our
one business. I think every day lost, which is not (mainly at least)
employed in this thing. _Sum totus in illo._
“I am glad you are to be at Bristol soon. To whom shall I leave my
letters and papers? I am quite at a loss. I think Mr. Fletcher is the
best that occurs now. Adieu!”[163]
Wesley was too busy to think of being ill. He was not alarmed; but his
friends were. Hence, the following addressed to Charles Wesley.
“SHOREHAM, _April 18, 1772_.
“MY VERY DEAR BROTHER,--I doubt not, but we both join in constant
petitions, at the throne of grace, for the life and health of our
dear absent friend, thy brother. By all accounts, his valuable health
is in a precarious state; and unless God provides (as I doubt not but
He will), for His people, they will have abundant reason to mourn.
May God give thee a double portion of His Spirit, that thou mayest
stand in the gap, and prevent the flock being led by any who have not
true gospel light in the head, and great integrity in the heart! My
love to thy dear brother; the same attends thee and my dear sister,
and all thy family. The Divine blessing be with all of us!
“Thine, most affectionately,
“VINCENT PERRONET.”[164]
Probably it was the request of his friends, rather than his own
anxiety, which induced Wesley, at Edinburgh, to submit to a medical
examination.
At this period, Dr. James Hamilton was a young man of about
two-and-thirty, and was practising medicine in his native town of
Dunbar, where he also had joined the Methodists. Afterwards he removed
to Leeds, and then to London, where he was elected physician to the
London Dispensary, and rose to eminence in the medical profession. He
died in Finsbury Square, April 21, 1827, at the age of eighty-seven,
having been a Methodist upwards of sixty years, and nearly as long a
highly acceptable and useful local preacher.
Dr. Alexander Monro was a few years older. Such was his ability, that,
at the age of twenty-two, he was appointed professor of anatomy and
surgery to the University of Edinburgh; and is said, by the excellence
of his lectures, to have materially assisted in raising it to the
highest celebrity as a school of medicine.
Dr. James Gregory was now a young man in his twentieth year; but, two
years later, was appointed professor of the theory of physic, and rose
to such eminence in his profession as to draw pupils from all parts of
the world.
These were the three physicians who attended Wesley. He writes: “May
18--Dr. Hamilton brought with him Dr. Monro and Dr. Gregory. They
satisfied me what my disorder was; and told me there was but one method
of cure. Perhaps but one natural one; but I think God has more than one
method of healing either the soul or the body.”
Wesley’s disease was hydrocele.[165] A few months later, he writes: “I
am almost a disabled soldier. I am forbid to ride, and am obliged to
travel mostly in a carriage.”[166]
That Wesley’s health was seriously affected there cannot be doubt.
_Lloyd’s Evening Post_, for June 15, remarks: “By accounts from
Scotland, we learn that the Rev. Mr. Wesley has had a dangerous fit
of illness, in which he was attended by three of the most eminent of
the faculty there, who gave him over; but some younger gentlemen in
practice have been luckily assistant to him, and they have now hopes
that he may continue his ministry many years longer.”
Wesley doubtless was amused with this. During his ten days’ stay in
Edinburgh, he preached at least about half-a-dozen times; and, on the
very day when the medical men met, he opened a new chapel at Leith, and
two days later started for Newcastle, preaching on his way at Dunbar,
Alnwick, and Morpeth.
Reaching Newcastle on May 25, he spent the remainder of the week in the
town and neighbourhood, preaching, on the Sunday, three times out of
doors, to immense and attentive congregations.
The first four days in the month of June were occupied with what he
calls “a little tour through the dales”; and, in this brief period,
besides travelling scores of miles over “the horrid mountains,” and
examining societies, he preached at least eight sermons. He writes:
“from the top of an enormous mountain we had a view of Weardale. It is
a lovely prospect. The green, gently rising meadows and fields, on both
sides of the little river, clear as crystal, were sprinkled over with
innumerable little houses; three in four of which, if not nine in ten,
are sprung up since the Methodists came hither. Since that time, the
beasts are turned into men, and the wilderness into a fruitful field.”
Six months before this, Weardale had been blessed with a remarkable
religious revival, the penitent prayer-meetings often continuing
till ten or eleven o’clock at night, and sometimes till four in the
morning. On one occasion, four young men, seeking pardon, remained
on their knees for five hours together. Among others who found mercy
was an old woman, who, twenty-three years before, was the first in
Weardale to receive the Methodists into her house. Sometimes as many as
half-a-dozen “lay on the ground together, roaring for the disquietude
of their hearts.” Chiefly through the instrumentality of Jane Salkeld,
a schoolmistress, thirty children were converted, including Phœbe
Featherstone, Hannah Watson, and others whom Wesley mentions.
Not only does Wesley give, at great length, the details of this
revival; but he compares it with that at Everton thirteen years before.
His remarks are worth quoting.
“It resembled the work at Everton in many respects, but not in all.
“It resembled that work--(1) In its unexpected beginning; no such
work had ever been seen before either at Everton or in Weardale. (2)
In the swiftness of its progress, I mean in the persons affected;
many of whom were in one day, or even two or three hours, both
convinced of sin (without any previous awakening), and converted
to God. (3) In the number of persons both convinced and converted,
which was greater in a few months than it had been in Weardale from
the first preaching there, or in Everton for a century. (4) In the
outward symptoms which have attended it: in both, the sudden and
violent emotions of mind affected the whole bodily frame; insomuch
that many trembled exceedingly, many fell to the ground, many were
violently convulsed, and many seemed to be in the agonies of death.
(5) In most of the instruments whom God employed: these were plain,
artless men, simple of heart, but without any remarkable gifts;
men who, almost literally, knew ‘nothing save Jesus Christ and Him
crucified.’
“In these respects, the work of God in Weardale nearly resembled
that at Everton; but, in other respects, they were widely different.
For--(1) That was the first work of God, of the kind, which had ever
been in those parts in the memory of man; this was only a revival of
a work, which had continued for many years. Now these circumstances
are common at the dawn of a work, but afterwards very uncommon. I do
not remember to have seen the like anywhere in the three kingdoms,
unless at the beginning of a work. (2) Although the former work was
swift, the latter was far swifter. In general, persons were both
awakened and justified in a far shorter time. (3) A far greater
number were converted to God in Weardale than about Everton, although
the number of hearers about Everton was abundantly greater than in
Weardale. (4) Although the outward symptoms were the same, yet in
Weardale there were none of the dreams, visions, and revelations
which abounded at Everton; and which, though at first they
undoubtedly were from God, yet were afterwards fatally counterfeited
by the devil. (5) There was a great difference in the instruments
whom God employed. Not one of those in or near Everton had any
experience in the guiding of souls. None of them were more than
‘babes in Christ,’ if any of them so much. Whereas, in Weardale, not
only the three preachers were, I believe, renewed in love, but most
of the leaders were deeply experienced in the work of God. Hence, (6)
we may easily account for the grand difference, namely, that the one
work was so shallow, and the other so deep. Many children here have
had far deeper experience, and more constant fellowship with God,
than the oldest man or woman at Everton which I have seen or heard
of.”
Such were Wesley’s moralisings on the Weardale revival, in 1772, in
which less than a hundred people were converted, and concerning which
he says: “upon the whole, we may affirm, such a work of God as this has
not been seen before in the three kingdoms.” If this was so, who will
say that the former times were better than these? How many thousands of
aged Methodists can easily call to mind far more remarkable revivals of
the work of God than even that in Weardale! And, further, how was it
that, at Wesley’s visit two years after, the results of this revival
were almost reduced to nothing, except that, in consequence of the
backslidings, “the preachers were discouraged; and jealousies, heart
burnings, and evil surmisings, were multiplied more and more”?
Wesley returned from Weardale to Newcastle on the 5th of June, and
here, and in the immediate neighbourhood, he spent the next ten days.
In the Newcastle society, there were fewer members than he had found
two years before. “This,” says he, “I can impute to nothing but the
want of visiting from house to house; without which the people will
hardly increase, either in number or grace.” This was a sharp thrust
at some of the most distinguished preachers of the day, namely, Peter
Jaco, Joseph Cownley, Thomas Hanby, Matthew Lowes, Thomas Tennant,
William Thompson, and Thomas Simpson, all of them appointed to
Newcastle at this period.
On June 15, Wesley left Newcastle, and spent the next week in preaching
at Durham, Stockton, Yarm, Thirsk, Osmotherley, Hutton Rudby,
Stokesley, Castleton, Whitby, Robinhood’s Bay, and Scarborough. This
was pretty well, for a man afflicted as Wesley was, and at the age of
seventy.
Eighteen months before this, his termagant wife had abruptly left
him, and gone to her house at Newcastle. Now that his health was so
endangered, she was returning with him, whether to his comfort or
otherwise we are not informed; but, at all events, she had in Wesley’s
chaise the undeserved luxury of a summer’s ride through the most
beautiful scenes of Yorkshire.[167]
From Scarborough he proceeded to Bridlington, Driffield, Beverley,
Hull, York, Tadcaster, Pateley Bridge, Otley, Heptonstall, Keighley,
Haworth, Bingley, Bradford, Halifax, Huddersfield, Morley, Birstal,
Doncaster, Sheffield, Epworth, Brigg, Horncastle, Louth, Grimsby,
Pontefract, Horbury, Wakefield, and other places, preaching at all of
them, until, on August 2, he got to Leeds, for the purpose of holding
his annual conference. This was enormous labour for any man, and
especially for an old man, suffering from a severe and painful malady.
To all this must be added, cottage accommodation, hard beds, and often
hard living; and, though brutal persecution had considerably abated,
Wesley was not entirely exempt from this; for, at Halifax, on July
8, a ruffian struck him most violently on the face, when, with tears
starting from his eyes, the venerable saint acted upon the precept of
his Master: “Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him
the other also”; a display of heroic meekness which cowed the brutal
coward, and made him slink away into the ignoble crowd.[168] Yet, in
the midst of all this, there is not a single syllable, in his journal,
concerning either persecution, hardship, debility, or disease.
He writes: “On Tuesday, August 4, our conference began. Generally,
during the time of conference, as I was talking from morning to night,
I had used to desire one of our brethren to preach in the morning; but,
having many things to say, I resolved, with God’s help, to preach
mornings as well as evenings. And I found no difference at all; I was
no more tired than with my usual labour; that is, no more than if I had
been sitting still in my study from morning to night.”
One of Wesley’s sermons, preached to an immense congregation, in a
field behind the chapel, was from Isaiah lxvi. 8, 9: “Who hath heard
such a thing?” etc.; in which he dwelt upon the great work which God
had wrought among the Methodists, discoursing on its rapidity, depth,
extensiveness, and its growing character. “It was,” says good old
Thomas Rutherford, “marrow and fatness to my soul.”[169]
Wesley, in needful cases, was a brave defender of his preachers. The
following, addressed to Mr. Alexander Clark, of Dublin, and written at
this period, will be read with interest.
“SHEFFIELD, _August 10, 1772_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,--Now the hurry of conference is over, I get a
little time to write. When I chose you to be steward in Dublin, you
both loved and esteemed your preachers; but I find you have now drunk
in the whole spirit of Pat. Geoghegan. O beware! You are exceedingly
deceived. By this time, I should be some judge of man; and if I am,
all England and Ireland cannot afford such a body of men, number for
number, for sense and true experience, both of men and things, as
the body of Methodist preachers. Our leaders in London, Bristol, and
Dublin are by no means weak men. I would not be ashamed to compare
them with a like number of tradesmen in every part of the three
kingdoms. But I assure you, they are no more than children compared
to the preachers in conference, as you would be thoroughly convinced,
could you but have the opportunity of spending one day among them.
Mr. Jaco will make a fair trial whether he can supply Dublin alone;
if he cannot, he shall have another to help, for he must not kill
himself to save charges. But I dare not stint him to £20 a year. He
will waste nothing; but he must want nothing. You will make his stay
among you, in every respect, as comfortable as you can.
“I am your affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[170]
No sooner was the conference ended, than Wesley again started on his
itinerancy of mercy. On his way to Burslem, his chaise broke down; but,
notwithstanding his disease, rather than disappoint the people, he
mounted a horse and rode two-and-twenty miles, arriving just in time
for preaching.
On reaching Trevecca, on August 14, he met his old friend, Howel
Harris, who, while almost all others of his class had imbibed the
most bitter feelings, still remained faithful. “I have borne,” said
the honest Welshman, “with these pert, ignorant young men, vulgarly
called students, till I cannot, in conscience, bear any longer. They
preach barefaced reprobation, and so broad antinomianism, that I
have been constrained to oppose them to the face, even in the public
congregation.” This was no great compliment to the students of the
Countess of Huntingdon, especially as coming from a Calvinist. Wesley,
almost as an apology, adds to this: “It is no wonder that they should
preach thus. What better can be expected from raw lads, of little
understanding, little learning, and no experience?”
It is pleasing to add, that Howel Harris was not the only one of
Whitefield’s friends who still stood true to Wesley, though differing
from his views. Hence the following, addressed to him by Cornelius
Winter.
“BRECON, _August 10, 1772_.
“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,--Do you ask what I have been about? I answer,
preaching Christ wherever a door has been opened to me. Sometimes I
have cast a handful of seed on your ground; and should it ever come
to a harvest you are welcome to it: it will become Jesus’s property
at last. What melancholy consequences from late productions! They
forbid me to be any longer an idle hearer or a careless reader. I
have been obliged, from conscience, to make a stand against dear Mr.
Fletcher’s groundless arguments and most bitter invectives.[171] Many
things, he has said, are a proper antidote applied wrong, and to
improper objects, and thereby become poison, whereas they might have
been a healing medicine. But I must say no more on this subject; I am
writing to one who will give it little attention.
“Dr. Owen’s ‘Death of Death’ has been my favourite study of late;
and, in consequence of embracing the doctrine therein contained, I
must agree to disagree with Mr. Fletcher’s thoughts, and dear Mr.
Wesley’s _friendly pen_. Excuse my frank acknowledgments, and give
me leave to differ and love. God bless you to your latest period,
and make your last days your best! So prays, reverend and dear sir,
yours most respectfully and affectionately, in our dear Lord Jesus,
“CORNELIUS WINTER.”[172]
From Trevecca, Wesley proceeded to Bristol, and here, and in the
neighbourhood, he employed the next seven weeks. In Bristol itself,
he “visited the whole society from house to house, taking them from
west to east.” He not unfrequently preached in the open air, and
strikingly remarks: “to this day field preaching is a cross to me; but
I know my commission, and see no other way of preaching the gospel to
every creature.” The children at Kingswood, and at Miss Owen’s school
at Publow, were almost all converted. He writes: “I suppose such a
visitation of children has not been known in England these hundred
years!”[173] “Publow is now what Leytonstone was once. Here is a family
indeed. Such mistresses, and such a company of children, as I believe
all England cannot parallel!”
Leaving Bristol on October 5, and preaching on his way at Shaftesbury,
Salisbury, Winchester, and Portsmouth, he came to London on October
10. He had been seven months from home, if indeed he had a home! and
yet, after spending only one day in London, he again set out on his
usual preaching tour in the counties of Bedford and Northampton.
Returning to London, where he spent another day, he started on his
visitation in Oxfordshire. Returning again to London, and again
spending a single day, he went off, on October 26, to Norfolk, where he
employed a fortnight. Except making a journey into Kent, and another to
Hertfordshire, the remainder of the year was passed in the metropolis.
Here he again began expounding, chiefly in the mornings, “that
compendium of all the Holy Scriptures, the first epistle of St. John.”
Now, for the first time in his life, he saw the chapel at Snowsfields
full. He opened a new chapel at Dorking, and another in the parish of
Bromley. He visited the sick Methodists in London, and “was surprised
that they were so few.” And on December 31 he wrote: “Being greatly
embarrassed by the necessities of the poor, we spread all our wants
before God in solemn prayer; believing that He would sooner ‘make
windows in heaven’ than suffer His truth to fail.”
This reference to the poor requires further notice. The long continued
war, a succession of inferior harvests, and other unfavourable events,
had raised the price of provisions to such an extent, that the distress
of the nation had become alarming. In the month of November, the
court of common council of London agreed to petition parliament to
open the ports of the kingdom for the free importation of all kinds
of grain; and one of the members proposed that, in order to prevent
the unnecessary consumption of flour, the making of starch should be
prohibited. Long letters on the starved condition of the country were
published in the newspapers and magazines. Some of them entered into
elaborate calculations, showing that, in London only, during the six
winter months, twenty thousand sheep and two thousand oxen were used
in making soup for taverns, and the tables of the great. When the king
opened parliament, on November 26, he referred in his speech to the
dearness of corn, and recommended “my lords and gentlemen” to consider
a scheme “for alleviating the distresses of the poor.” This was done,
and bills were passed, which substantially permitted the importation of
foreign grown grain duty free.
In the midst of all this, Wesley was far from being an indifferent
spectator; and, among the many letters which appeared in the
periodicals of the day, one written by himself was not the least
important. This letter, published, either by himself or others, in
_Lloyd’s Evening Post_, for December 21, and in the _Leeds Mercury_ for
December 29, and in other newspapers and magazines, is altogether too
curious and characteristic to be omitted or abridged. It is as follows.
“_To the Editor of ‘Lloyd’s Evening Post._’
“SIR,--Many excellent things have been lately published concerning
the _present scarcity of provisions_. And many causes have been
assigned for it; but is not something wanting in most of those
publications? One writer assigns one cause, another one or two more,
and strongly insists upon them. But who has assigned all the causes
that manifestly concur to produce this melancholy effect? at the same
time pointing out, how each particular cause affects the price of
each particular sort of provision?
“I would willingly offer to candid and benevolent men a few hints on
this important subject, proposing a few questions, and adding to each
what seems to be the plain and direct answer.
“I. 1. I ask first, Why are thousands of people starving, perishing
for want, in every part of England? The fact I know: I have seen
it with my eyes, in every corner of the land. I have known those
who could only afford to eat a little coarse food every other
day. I have known one picking up stinking sprats from a dunghill,
and carrying them home for herself and her children. I have known
another gathering the bones which the dogs had left in the streets,
and making broth of them, to prolong a wretched life. Such is the
case, at this day, of multitudes of people, in a land flowing, as it
were, with milk and honey; abounding with all the necessaries, the
conveniences, the superfluities of life!
“Now why is this? Why have all these nothing to eat? Because they
have nothing to do. They have no meat, because they have no work.
“2. But why have they no work? Why are so many thousand people in
London, in Bristol, in Norwich, in every county from one end of
England to the other, utterly destitute of employment?
“Because the persons who used to employ them cannot afford to do it
any longer. Many, who employed fifty men, now scarce employ ten.
Those, who employed twenty, now employ one, or none at all. They
cannot, as they have no vent for their goods; food now bearing so
high a price, that the generality of people are hardly able to buy
anything else.
“3. But to descend from generals to particulars. Why is breadcorn
so dear? Because such immense quantities of it are continually
consumed by _distilling_. Indeed, an eminent distiller, near London,
hearing this, warmly replied: ‘Nay, my partner and I generally distil
_but a thousand quarters_ of corn a week.’ Perhaps so. Suppose
five-and-twenty distillers, in and near the town, consume each only
the same quantity. Here are five-and-twenty thousand quarters a
week, that is, above twelve hundred and fifty thousand quarters a
year, consumed in and about London! Add the distillers throughout
England, and have we not reason to believe that half of the wheat
produced in the kingdom is every year consumed, not by so harmless
a way as throwing it into the sea; but by converting it into deadly
poison--poison that naturally destroys, not only the strength and
life, but also the morals of our countrymen!
“‘Well, but this brings in a large revenue to the king.’ Is this an
equivalent for the lives of his subjects? Would his majesty sell a
hundred thousand of his subjects yearly to Algiers for four hundred
thousand pounds? Surely no. Will he then sell them for that sum,
to be butchered by their own countrymen?--‘But otherwise the swine
for the navy cannot be fed.’ Not unless they are fed with human
flesh? not unless they are fatted with human blood? O tell it not in
Constantinople, that the English raise the royal revenue by selling
the blood and flesh of their countrymen!
“4. But why are oats so dear? Because there are four times the
horses kept (to speak within compass), for coaches and chaises in
particular, than were some years ago. Unless, therefore, four times
the oats grew now as grew then, they cannot be at the same price. If
only twice as much is produced, (which perhaps is near the truth,)
the price will naturally be double to what it was.
“As the dearness of grain of one kind will always raise the price of
another, so whatever causes the dearness of wheat and oats must raise
the price of barley too. To account therefore for the dearness of
this, we need only remember what has been observed above, although
some particular causes may concur in producing the same effect.
“5. Why are beef and mutton so dear? Because most of the considerable
farmers, particularly in the northern counties, who used to breed
large numbers of sheep or horned cattle, and frequently both, no
longer trouble themselves with either sheep, or cows, or oxen; as
they can turn their land to far better account, by breeding horses
alone. Such is the demand, not only for coach and chaise horses,
which are bought and destroyed in incredible numbers; but much
more for bred horses, which are yearly exported by hundreds, yea
thousands, to France.
“6. But why are pork, poultry, and eggs so dear? Because of the
monopolising of farms, as mischievous a monopoly as was ever yet
introduced into these kingdoms. The land which was formerly divided
among ten or twenty little farmers, and enabled them comfortably to
provide for their families, is now generally engrossed by one great
farmer. One man farms an estate of a thousand a year, which formerly
maintained ten or twenty. Every one of these little farmers kept a
few swine, with some quantity of poultry; and, having little money,
was glad to send his bacon, or pork, or fowls and eggs, to market
continually. Hence, the markets were plentifully served, and plenty
created cheapness; but, at present, the great, the gentlemen farmers,
are above attending to these little things. They breed no poultry
or swine, unless for their own use; consequently they send none to
market. Hence, it is not strange, if two or three of these living
near a market town occasion such a scarcity of these things, by
preventing the former supply, that the price of them will be double
or treble to what it was before. Hence, (to instance in a small
article,) in the same town where, within my memory, eggs were sold
eight or ten a penny, they are now sold six or eight a groat.
Another cause why beef, mutton, pork, and all kind of victuals are so
dear, is _luxury_. What can stand against this? Will it not waste and
destroy all that nature and art can produce? If a person of quality
will boil down three dozen of neat’s tongues, to make two or three
quarts of soup (and so proportionably in other things), what wonder
if provisions fail? Only look into the kitchens of the great, the
nobility, and gentry, almost without exception (considering withal
that the toe of the peasant treads upon the heel of the courtier),
and when you have observed the amazing waste which is made there, you
will no longer wonder at the scarcity, and consequently dearness, of
the things which they use so much art to destroy.
“7. But why is land so dear? Because, on all these accounts,
gentlemen cannot live as they have been accustomed to do, without
increasing their income, which most of them cannot do but by raising
their rents. The farmer, paying a higher rent for his land, must have
a higher price for the produce of it. This again tends to raise the
price of land. And so the wheel runs round.
“8. But why is it, that not only provisions and land, but well-nigh
everything else is so dear? Because of the enormous taxes which are
laid on almost everything that can be named. Not only abundant taxes
are raised from earth, and fire, and water; but, in England, the
ingenious statesmen have found a way to tax the very light! Only
one element remains, and surely some man of honour will, ere long,
contrive to tax this also. For how long shall the saucy air blow in
the face of a gentleman, nay, a lord, without paying for it?
“9. But why are the taxes so high? Because of the national debt.
They must be, while this continues. I have heard that the national
expense, in the time of peace, was, sixty years ago, three millions
a year. Now the bare interest of the public debt amounts to above
four millions. To raise which, with the other expenses of government,
those taxes are absolutely necessary.
“II. Here is the evil. But where is the remedy? Perhaps it exceeds
all the wisdom of man to tell. But it may not be amiss to offer a few
hints, even on this delicate subject.
“1. What remedy is there for this sore evil? Many thousand poor
people are starving. Find them work, and you will find them meat.
They will then earn and eat their own bread.
“2. But how shall their masters give them work, without ruining
themselves? Procure vent for it, and it will not hurt their masters
to give them as much work as they can do; and this will be done by
sinking the price of provisions; for then people will have money to
buy other things too.
“3. But how can the price of _wheat_ be reduced? By prohibiting for
ever that bane of health, that destroyer of strength, of life; and
of virtue, _distilling_. Perhaps this alone will answer the whole
design. If anything more be needful, may not all starch be made of
rice, and the importation of this, as well as of wheat, be encouraged?
“4. How can the price of _oats_ be reduced? By reducing the number
of horses. And may not this be effectually done--(1) by laying a tax
of ten pounds on every horse exported to France; (2) by laying an
additional tax on gentlemen’s carriages. Not so much for every wheel,
(barefaced, shameless partiality!) but ten pounds yearly for every
horse. And these two taxes alone would nearly supply as much as is
now given for leave to poison his majesty’s liege subjects.
“5. How can the price of _beef_ and _mutton_ be reduced? By
increasing the breed of sheep and horned cattle. And this would be
increased sevenfold, if the price of horses was reduced; which it
surely would be half in half, by the method above mentioned.
“6. How can the price of _pork_ and _poultry_ be reduced? First, by
letting no farms of above a hundred pounds a year. Secondly, by
repressing luxury, either by example, by laws, or both.
“7. How may the price of _land_ be reduced? By all the methods above
named, all which tend to lessen the expense of housekeeping; but
especially the last, restraining luxury, which is the grand source of
poverty.
“8. How may the _taxes_ be reduced? By discharging half the national
debt, and so saving at least two millions a year.
“How this can be done the wisdom of the great council of the land can
best determine.
“I am, sir, your humble servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.
“DOVER, _December 9, 1772_.”
This was not the only thing that Wesley and the Methodists did, to
contribute to the happiness of the starving poor. It was now that
there was organised a band of pious Methodists, who made it their duty
and their pleasure to visit the inmates of London workhouses, and, by
prayer, and reading, and exhortation, to lead them to Him who is alone
the great Comforter. That organisation has uninterruptedly existed down
to the present time; and though, for the last twenty years, it has
ceased to be a purely Methodist society, its chief workers bear the
Methodistic name.[174] From the ninety-fifth annual report of what is
now called “The Christian Community,” we learn that this society was
“established under the patronage of the Rev. John Wesley, in 1772;” and
that its agents, all labouring gratuitously, are regularly visiting
the workhouses of Shoreditch, St. Luke’s, Clerkenwell, St. George’s in
the East, and Bethnal Green, in eighty-eight halls and wards of which
they hold religious services every week; and that, besides this, they
have three services weekly in Cambridge Heath female refuge; visit
between twenty and thirty low lodging houses, in Spitalfields, every
Sunday night; and, during the year, hold about 463 services in the
open air, deliver nearly 1400 addresses,[175] and distribute almost a
quarter of a million of religious tracts. Not fewer than 124 visitors
and exhorters are employed, nearly the whole of whom have appointments
every week.
Into such a society has been developed the small band of godly
Methodists, sent forth by Wesley, in 1772, to visit London paupers and
London vagabonds. Its work is little known, and its agents scarcely
recognised; but here, in the very heart of London, are 124 home
missionaries, toiling to convert the lowest of the low to the faith of
Christ, receiving not a farthing for their services, and carrying on
their extensive machinery of tract distribution, tent preaching, and a
circulating library, at the small expense of about £200 a year. Success
to this unpretending and almost unknown society. May the God of heaven
prosper it, in its great work, more and more! “It is a shame,” wrote
Wesley to Joseph Benson, on December 11, 1772, “It is a shame for any
Methodist preacher to confine himself to one place. We are debtors to
all the world. We are called to warn every one, to exhort every one, if
by any means we may save some. I love prayer-meetings, and wish they
were set up in every corner of the town.”[176]
Such is a bird’s eye view of the work done, in 1772, by an old man,
acutely suffering from the disease already mentioned. Writing to his
brother in November, and again in December, Wesley says:
“I have just made my tour through Oxfordshire, Bedfordshire,
Northamptonshire, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex; but Kent, Sussex, and
Hertfordshire still remain to be visited; only the visitation of the
London classes, a fortnight’s work, must come between.
“If we only join faith and works in all our preaching, we shall not
fail of a blessing. But of all preaching, what is usually called
gospel preaching is the most useless, if not the most mischievous:
a dull, yea, or lively harangue on the sufferings of Christ, or
salvation by faith, without strongly inculcating holiness. I see,
more and more, that this naturally tends to drive holiness out of the
world.”
“I have scarce had a day yet” (December 15) “in London, except
Sundays, and the time of visiting the classes. Dr. Ford has never
come near me. I am afraid, _evasit_, _erupit_. I have wrote to Mr.
Fletcher to-day. As Mr. Hill is to fall upon me next, Mr. Fletcher
will have a little time to breathe; and probably a little more while
Mr. Hill is digesting my reply; for whom I think we shall, between
us, find work for some time.
“You will not set shoulder to shoulder, or you could say something
about the Church. Two are better than one. If we live till August,
stand by me, and we will put the matter home.
“I often cry out, _Vitæ me redde priori_! Let me be again an Oxford
Methodist. I am often in doubt whether it would not be best for me to
resume all my Oxford rules, great and small. I did then walk closely
with God, and redeem the time. But what have I been doing these
thirty years? My love to all. Adieu!--JOHN WESLEY.”[177]
The concluding sentences of these extracts sound strangely. Did
afflicted Wesley, amid the London fog of a dark December day, really
think, that the last thirty years had been comparatively wasted, and
that he was more pious when almost a cloistered monk within the walls
of Oxford, than he was now, a veteran evangelist, flying through the
three kingdoms, and preaching the gospel of God his Saviour? His
medical adviser came not near him; Sir Richard Hill was wantonly
assailing him; his brother, except as a localised pastor in London and
in Bristol, was of no use to him; his wife,--bah! Is it surprising,
that even Wesley had seasons of depression; and that, like others, he
was sometimes “in heaviness through manifold temptations”?
But it is time to turn to the Calvinian controversy, which we left
raging in 1771. Wesley rarely mentions it, either in his journal or in
his letters, and yet it continued with undiminished fury.
Fletcher, of Madeley, again entered the field of battle, by publishing
“A Third Check to Antinomianism,” in a letter to Sir Richard Hill,
12mo, 114 pages. This was not only a defence of Wesley, but a
triumphant answer to the “Five Letters” of the baronet, and is written
in a style exceedingly beautiful and Christian. Before the year was
out, it reached a second edition.
Fletcher’s other publication, in 1772, was “Logica Genevensis; or, a
Fourth Check to Antinomianism: in which St. James’s pure religion is
defended against the charges, and established upon the concessions,
of Mr. Richard and Mr. Rowland Hill. In a Series of Letters to those
Gentlemen.” 12mo, 237 pages.[178]
It is no part of our present plan to give even the briefest analysis
of these masterly productions. Suffice it to say, that, for sound
scriptural argument, able exposition, lively imagination, elegance of
style, polished irony, and Christian temper, they have no superiors.
The two brothers, notwithstanding their goodness, their learning, their
genius, and their pluck, were but pigmies in the grasp of a Goliath.
Rowland Hill, a young man of twenty-seven, had experienced the
mortification of being refused ordination by not fewer than six
bishops, and was a roving evangelist, preaching with great success in
Whitefield’s London Tabernacle, in Bristol, Bath, and all over the west
of England. At the commencement of the controversy, Berridge wrote to
him thus: “The late contest at Bristol seems to turn upon this hinge,
whether it shall be _Pope John_ or _Pope Joan_. My dear friend, keep
out of all controversy, and wage no war but with the devil.”[179]
Unfortunately for himself, the young preacher did not follow the
counsel of the vicar of Everton, but, in 1772, issued an octavo
pamphlet of 71 pages, entitled “Friendly Remarks occasioned by the
Spirit and Doctrines contained in the Rev. Mr. Fletcher’s Vindication,
and more particularly in his Second Check to Antinomianism, to which is
added a Postscript, occasioned by his Third Check.” The production is
what might be expected from YOUNG Rowland Hill. Fletcher is accused of
using “tartness of style,” “banter,” “contempt,” “numberless sneers,
taunts, and sarcasms;” “infernal terms of darkness,” “bravado,”
“slander,” “high flown metaphors,” “frothy declamation,” “odious
appellations,” “glaring inconsistencies,” “palpable mistakes.” He says,
“Wesley has been a proverb for his contradictions for above thirty
years.” The “Hymns on God’s Everlasting Love,” “formerly sent forth
from the Foundery,” are stigmatised as “certain godly lampoons of
famous memory.” This was pretty strong to come from a stripling not yet
ordained.
His brother also was not a laggard. Without loss of time, he published
an octavo volume of 151 pages, with the following gigantic title:
“A Review of all the Doctrines taught by the Rev. Mr. John Wesley;
containing a full and particular Answer to a Book entitled ‘A Second
Check to Antinomianism.’ In six Letters to the Author of that Book;
wherein the Doctrines of a twofold Justification, Free Will, Man’s
Merit, Sinless Perfection, Finished Salvation, and Real Antinomianism
are particularly discussed, and the Puritan Divines vindicated from
the Charges brought against them of holding Mr. Wesley’s Doctrines. To
which is added, a Farrago of Hot and Cold Medicines. By the Rev. Mr.
John Wesley, Author of the ‘Preservative against Unsettled Notions in
Religion.’ Extracted from his own Publications.”
Richard Hill’s scurrility is quite equal to his brother’s. He writes:
“O my dear sir, I never could have supposed that sneer, banter, and
sarcasm, yea, notorious falsehoods, calumny, and gross perversions,
would have appeared under the sanction of your venerable name.” He
tells Fletcher that he “dips his pen in gall,” and “maintains his cause
by artful insinuations.” “In your first letter,” says he, “I really
cannot find many lines together free from gross misrepresentations and
perversions, and hardly one single paragraph exempt from cutting sneers
and low sarcasms.” “Your pages,” he adds, “are as totally void of solid
Scripture argument as they are replete with calumny, gross perversions
and equivocations.” Wesley is treated with the same bitterness as
Fletcher. “His opinions” are said to be “a mixture of Pelagianism,
semi-Pelagianism, Arminianism, popery, mysticism, and quakerism.” Such
quotations might be multiplied _ad nauseam_; but the reader has had
enough. Suffice it to add, that, before the year 1772 was ended, the
public was blessed with “a second, corrected and enlarged edition” of
this loving effusion of the Salopian baronet.
Besides all this, Sir Richard published, in 1772, another octavo
pamphlet of 16 pages, with the title, “Some Remarks on a Pamphlet
entitled A Third Check to Antinomianism,” a production brief, but, like
the rest, far too rancorous. Scurrility is almost a sure sign of feeble
arguments and a defenceless cause.
The two Hills were not Wesley’s only antagonists. Toplady issued his
“More Work for Mr. John Wesley; or, a Vindication of the Decrees
and Providence of God from the Defamations of a late printed paper,
entitled ‘The Consequence Proved.’” 8vo, 104 pages: 1772.[180]
In his advertisement, Toplady tells his readers, that he bears not the
least ill will to Wesley; and that his manuscript had lain by him for
several weeks, “merely with a view of striking out, from time to time,
whatever might savour of undue asperity and intemperate warmth.” The
following extracts will show how far Toplady succeeded in his pious and
loving wish.
“Mr. Wesley has as much of the _insidious_ in his composition,
as he has of the _acid_; and it would be difficult to say which
predominates.” “He is for adding the lion to the fox. He wishes not
only to wheedle, but to _thunder_ the Church out of her Calvinism. He
is, like Mahommed, for propagating his religion by the sword. Peals of
anathemas are issued, and torrents of the lowest calumny are thrown
out, against all who abide by the thirty-nine articles. Pope John’s
authority may have some weight with such men as Messrs. Walter Sellon,
Haddon Smith, and Thomas Olivers; but not an inch beyond the purlieus
of ignorance, prejudice, and superstition will his dictatorship
extend.” “His mode of phraseology is as pregnant with craft as his
conduct is destitute of honour. He first _hatches_ blasphemy, and then
_fathers_ it on others.” “His forehead must be _petrified_, and quite
impervious to a blush.” “He sits down, and deliberately _writes_ a
known, wilful, palpable lie to the public.” “He is a pitiful nibbler
at the file he cannot bite.” “Thomas Olivers, a _journeyman shoemaker_,
retained by Mr. Wesley as a lay preacher at the rate of £10 per annum,
is his bully in chief. _In chief_, did I say? I had forgot the Rev. Mr.
Walter Sellon; prunella claims precedency of leather; _Thomas_ is only
_second_ in commission. Mr. Wesley skulks for shelter under a cobbler’s
apron.” “Has Tom, the shoemaker, more _learning_, or more _integrity_,
than John the priest?” “Without the least heat or emotion, I plainly
say, Mr. Wesley _lies_.”[181]
The following is part of Mr. Toplady’s concluding paragraph.
“One word to Mr. Wesley himself, and I have done. Time, sir, has
already whitened your locks; and the hour must shortly come, which
will transmit you to the tribunal of that God, on whose sovereignty a
great part of your life has been one continued assault. At that bar
_I_ too must hold up _my_ hand. Omniscience only can tell, _which_
of us shall first appear before the Judge of all. I shortly _may_,
you shortly _must_. The part you have been permitted to act in the
religious world will, sooner or later, sit heavy on your mind. Depend
upon it, a period will arrive when the Father’s _electing_ mercy and
the Messiah’s adorable _righteousness_, will appear in _your_ eyes,
even in yours, to be the only safe anchorage for a dying sinner. I
mean, unless you are actually given over to final obduration; which,
I trust, you are not; and to which, I most ardently beseech God, you
never may.”
Poor young Augustus Toplady, now thirty-one years of age, after doing
his utmost to purge his pamphlet from offensive expressions, thus, by
the electing grace of God, speaks of a man approaching seventy. Little
did he think, that within seven years he himself would stand before
that bar with which he threatened Wesley; and that the hoary headed
man, who he thought might be “given over to final obduration,” would be
his survivor nearly thirteen years.
Besides all this public annoyance, Wesley and Fletcher had sent to
them anonymous letters of the vilest description. Two may suffice as
specimens. Both have Birmingham post mark, and both were addressed to
Fletcher. Both are in the same handwriting; the orthography of one is
correct, but of the other _purposely_ otherwise. In the first are ink
sketches of Wesley and Fletcher in two pulpits, and pelting each other
with Bibles. In the other, Wesley is represented as being hanged, and
Fletcher is shooting him after he is dead. Take an extract from the
first, which, though bad enough, is not the worst that it contains.
“I HAVE sent you a short poem upon parson Wesley.
‘There wos a man, Hold Wesley by name,
I rother think yo’ll bee thee same,
From every porsun he gets tuppence a week--
I wish hee was hear, and I’d give him a kick.
He open’d a meeting Inn this town,
And all the benchees dyd fall doun,
I was in the meeting at the same tyme,
But O I cannot find a rheime.
You preach’d a Charrity sermun wonce,
And sat in the pulpit like old Punch.’”
What had Wesley done to deserve all this? Literally nothing, except
publishing the brief and imperfect minutes of a conversation he had
with his itinerant preachers in 1770, on the subject of Calvinism; and,
further, three small tracts, one an abridgment of Toplady’s Zanchius;
another an answer to the question, “What is an Arminian?” and the
third, “The Consequence Proved.” This was absolutely the sum total of
his offence so far as the public was concerned. The minutes fill little
more than an octavo page, and contain not the slightest reflection upon
any one under heaven. The description of an Arminian occupies only
eight pages 12mo, and merely states, in the most temperate terms, the
difference between the Arminian and Calvinistic creeds. From first to
last, the name of no living man is mentioned, except the name of Wesley
himself. The abridgment of Toplady’s Zanchius fills only twelve pages
12mo, and is honestly and fairly made. The only thing in it, that can,
with any degree of fairness, be considered personal, is the summing up
of the principles of Zanchius, which occupy half-a-dozen lines, and to
which Wesley appended the words, characteristic enough of the young
predestinarian whose translation he was abridging, “Reader, believe
this, or be damned. Witness my hand, A---- T----.” Then, in reference
to the third tract, “The Consequence Proved,” the printed matter fills
just eight pages 12mo, and there is absolutely nothing in it but what
is fair argument, except that Wesley calls Toplady “a young, bold man,”
and says he will leave him “to be farther corrected by one that is
full his match, Mr. Thomas Olivers.” This is all, literally all; the
first and last; the substance and the details of Wesley’s offending.
The two Hills, one of them not yet forty, and the other not yet thirty
years of age, are never mentioned, or in the least alluded to, in any
of Wesley’s publications just named. And yet, because an old man, who,
for more than thirty years, had been incessantly traversing the three
kingdoms to preach the gospel of God his Saviour, happens to express,
in the most temperate language, an opinion contrary to the Calvinian
creed, he becomes the butt of the disgraceful abuse, specimens of
which have been given in the previous pages. For many a long year,
Wesley was lampooned in newspapers and magazines, and in tracts and
pamphlets written by two different classes of literary men--Samuel
Foote, the comedian, the representative of one, and George Lavington,
the merryandrew bishop, the representative of the other: but now these
were silent; and, in their stead, we have another set of opponents,
far more angry than the former ones, animated by a spirit quite as
bitter, and using opprobrious epithets almost more offensive; men
believing themselves to be among God’s elect, called, and converted;
loud religious professors, and adepts in the art of railing; profound
admirers of the dead Whitefield, but perfect haters of Whitefield’s
surviving friend, Wesley. In turn, Wesley had encountered mobs and men
of letters, drunken parsons, furious papists, honest infidels, and
others; but, of all his enemies, his last were his bitterest and worst,
Calvinistic Christians!!
Some will blame the writer for furnishing modern readers with specimens
of the foul mouthed language used, respecting Wesley, by some of the
most flaming professors of Christ’s religion a hundred years ago. His
answer is, the task is far from pleasant; but without a knowledge of
Wesley’s unmerited and unparalleled persecutions, who can have a just
conception of Wesley’s character? The result of such exposures, it
is true, is not only to enhance the fame of Wesley, but to blot the
history of his opponents. This no one regrets more deeply than the
present writer; but he cannot help it. Besides, it is a fact, which
cannot be denied, that there are some sins which, even though repented
of, and pardoned, are, in the present world, always punished. A man
rails, and God forgives him; but even forgiveness cannot prevent his
railing injuring his character. Injured fame, in such a case, is a
penalty unavoidable, reasonable, and right.
We have furnished specimens of the foolish and disgraceful ravings of
Richard and Rowland Hill. What was Wesley’s reply? There is a quiet
irony in one of the entries in his journal, which is worth quoting:
“1772. July. 11--I was presented with Mr. Hill’s Review, a curiosity
in its kind. But it has nothing to do either with good nature or good
manners; for he is writing to an Arminian. I almost wonder at his
passionate desire to measure swords with me. This is the third time
he has fallen upon me without fear or wit. _Tandem extorquebis ut
vapules._”
Accordingly, Wesley prepared and published “Some Remarks on Mr. Hill’s
‘Review of all the Doctrines taught by Mr. John Wesley.’” This is the
tartest of Wesley’s publications, and not without reason. He writes:
“Mr. Fletcher imagined that his opponents would have received his
words in the same spirit wherein they were spoken; but they turn them
all into poison. He not only loses his sweet words, but they are
turned into bitterness, are interpreted as mere sneer and sarcasm! A
good lesson for me! I had designed to have transcribed Mr. Fletcher’s
character of Mr. Hill,[182] and to have added a little thereto, in
hope of softening his spirit; but I see it is in vain; as well might
one hope to soften
‘Inexorable Pluto, king of shades!’
“Since he is capable of putting such a construction, even upon Mr.
Fletcher’s gentleness and mildness, what will he not ascribe to me? I
have done, therefore, with humbling myself to these men,--to Mr. Hill
and his associates; I have humbled myself to them for these thirty
years, but will do it no more. I have done with attempting to soften
their spirits; it is all lost labour. Upon men of an ingenuous temper
I have been able to fix an obligation. Bishop Gibson, Dr. Church, and
even Dr. Taylor, were obliged to me for not pushing my advantage. But
it is not so with these; whatever mercy you show, you are to expect
no mercy from them. ‘Mercy,’ did I say? Alas! I expect no justice; no
more than I have found already. As they have wrested and distorted my
words from the beginning, so I expect they will do to the end. Mr.
Hill’s performance is a specimen. Such mercy, such justice, I am to
expect! For forty or fifty years, I have been a little acquainted
with controversial writers; some of the Romish persuasion, some of
our own Church, some Dissenters of various denominations; and I have
found many among them as angry as he; but one so bitter I have not
found. As a writer, his name is Wormwood.”
This was unsheathing the sword, and casting away the scabbard.
Wesley proceeds, in most trenchant style, to defend himself against
Hill’s grand objection, self inconsistency. Our space renders it
impossible to give an outline of Wesley’s answers to the charges,
so recklessly brought against him. The following is a part of his
conclusion:
“I now look back on a train of incidents that have occurred for many
months last past, and adore a wise and gracious Providence, ordering
all things well! When the circular letter was first dispersed
throughout Great Britain and Ireland, I did not conceive the immense
good which God was about to bring out of that evil. But no sooner did
Mr. Fletcher’s first Letters appear than the scene began to open; and
the design of Providence opened more and more, when Mr. Shirley’s
Narrative, and Mr. Hill’s Letters, constrained him to write his
Second and Third Checks to Antinomianism. It was then indisputably
clear, that neither my brother nor I had borne a sufficient testimony
to the truth. For many years, from a well meant, but ill judged,
tenderness, we had suffered the reprobation preachers (vulgarly
called ‘gospel preachers’) to spread their poison, almost without
opposition. But, at length, they have awakened us out of sleep: Mr.
Hill has answered for all his brethren, roundly declaring, that ‘any
agreement with election doubters is a covenant with death.’ It is
well: we are now forewarned and forearmed. We look for neither peace
nor truce with any who do not openly and expressly renounce this
diabolical sentiment. But since God is on our side, we will not fear
what man can do unto us. We never before saw our way clear, to do any
more than act on the defensive. But since the circular letter has
sounded the alarm, has called forth all their hosts to war; and since
Mr. Hill has answered the call, drawing the sword, and throwing away
the scabbard; what remains, but to own the hand of God, and make a
virtue of necessity? I will no more desire any Arminian, so called,
to remain only on the defensive. Rather chase the fiend, reprobation,
to his own hell, and every doctrine connected with it. Let none pity
or spare one limb of either speculative or practical antinomianism,
or of any doctrine that naturally tends thereto; only remembering
that, however we are treated by men, who have a dispensation from
the vulgar rules of justice and mercy, we are not to fight them at
their own weapons, to return railing for railing. Those who plead the
cause of the God of love are to imitate Him they serve; and, however
provoked, to use no other weapons than those of truth and love, of
Scripture and reason.”
Thus did Wesley accept the challenge; and it is not hazarding too much
to make the assertion, that Fletcher’s almost inimitable polemical
productions, and Wesley’s own sermons, together with his _Arminian
Magazine_, started six years afterwards, did what Wesley wished, namely
drove the fiendish doctrine of reprobation to its “own hell,” and gave
a blow to the Calvinian theory, which has been felt from that time to
this.
Wesley’s other publications, in 1772, were the following.