[185] Whitehead’s Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 355.
[186] Moore’s Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 259.
[187] Wesley’s Works, vol. xi., p. 288.
[188] Asbury’s Journal, vol. i., p. 72.
[189] _Methodist Magazine_, 1786, p. 397.
[190] _Methodist Magazine_, 1786, p. 567.
[191] _Wesleyan Times_, May 13, 1861.
[192] Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., pp. 391, 392.
[193] Wesley’s Works, vol xii., p. 291.
[194] _Methodist Magazine_, 1831, p. 290.
[195] Ibid. 1782, pp. 505, 565.
[196] Query: ought not this to be 1773?
[197] _Methodist Magazine_, 1842, p. 1013.
[198] Manuscript.
[199] _Methodist Magazine_, 1842, p. 1012.
[200] Manuscript.
[201] _Methodist Magazine_, 1805, p. 520.
[202] Toplady’s Posthumous Works, 1780, pp. 343-346.
[203] _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, April 2, 1773.
1774.
Age 71
References have been made to the state of Wesley’s health. His labours
had been undiminished, and yet many of his friends had been anxious and
alarmed. John Pawson, in an unpublished letter, dated Bristol, October
14, 1773, remarks: “Mr. Wesley has been with us for some time. He
seems to be declining very fast; and I think there is great reason to
fear that he will not be with us long.” There was sufficient cause for
solicitude. Wesley’s pain, during the last three years, must have been
acute; and it is perfectly marvellous how he managed, without a murmur,
and without abatement, to do the whole of his accustomed work. At the
beginning of 1774, the matter reached its crisis. He writes:
“January 4--Three or four years ago, a stumbling horse threw me
forward on the pommel of the saddle. I felt a good deal of pain; but
it soon went off, and I thought of it no more. Some months after, I
observed _testiculum alterum altero duplo majorem esse_. I consulted
a physician; he told me it was a common case, and did not imply any
disease at all. In May twelvemonth, it was grown near as large as
a hen’s egg. Being then at Edinburgh, Dr. Hamilton insisted on my
having the advice of Drs. Gregory and Munro. They immediately saw
it was a hydrocele, and advised me, as soon as I came to London,
to aim at a radical cure, which they judged might be effected in
about sixteen days. When I came to London, I consulted Mr. Wathen.
He advised me--(1) Not to think of a radical cure, which could not
be hoped for, without my lying in one posture fifteen or sixteen
days; and he did not know whether this might not give a wound to my
constitution, which I should never recover. (2) To do nothing while I
continued easy. And this advice I was determined to take. Last month,
the swelling was often painful. So on this day Mr. Wathen performed
the operation, and drew off something more than half a pint of a
thin, yellow, transparent water. With this came out, to his no small
surprise, a pearl of the size of a small shot; which he supposed
might be one cause of the disorder, by occasioning a conflux of
humours to the part.”
Such is Wesley’s own simple statement. The disease was unquestionably
a serious one; and, yet, it is a surprising fact, that, only a week
after the surgical operation, he was again in harness, and as actively
employed as ever. Hence the following: “Tuesday, January 11--I began,
at the east end of the town, to visit the society from house to house.
I know no branch of the pastoral office which is of greater importance
than this. But it is so grievous to flesh and blood, that I can prevail
on few, even of our preachers, to undertake it.”
Wesley’s zeal for the extension of his Saviour’s kingdom would hardly
let him rest when rest was requisite. His long life was an unbroken
scene of gigantic action. He worked as though nothing could be done
without his working; and yet no man more practically acknowledged, that
all his work, without God’s blessing, would amount to nothing. Hence,
not only his own ceaseless prayers for the help and co-operation of
his great Master, but also his appointment of fast days to be observed
by the thousands of his followers. Many of these are mentioned in his
journals, but many were observed without being mentioned. One of these
occurred at the time of which we are now writing. “Yesterday,” says
Samuel Bardsley, on January 25, 1774, “yesterday I got a letter from
Mr. Wesley, informing me that the 28th instant is to be observed as
a day of fasting and prayer for the prosperity of the gospel.”[204]
Numbers of such days were appointed. No wonder Wesley prospered.
The first two months of 1774 were chiefly spent in London; and, on
March 6, Wesley set out on his northern visitation, which, as usual,
occupied his time till the conference was held in August. This journey
has been so often traversed, that we shall no longer follow Wesley step
by step; but merely advert to its chief incidents.
At Wolverhampton he was met by his friend Fletcher, of Madeley, and
says: “March 22--At five in the morning I explained that important
truth, that God trieth us every moment, weighs all our thoughts, words,
and actions, and is pleased or displeased with us, according to our
works. I see more and more clearly, that there is a great gulf fixed
between us and all those, who, by denying this, sap the very foundation
both of inward and outward holiness.”
When he had travelled as far as Congleton, he received intelligence
which compelled him to retrace his steps, and go back to Bristol.
The entry in the journal of this old man of more than seventy is a
curiosity. “Wednesday, March 30--I went on to Congleton, where I
received letters, informing me that my presence was necessary at
Bristol. So, about one, I took chaise, and reached Bristol about half
an hour after one the next day. Having done my business in about
two hours, on Friday in the afternoon I reached Congleton again,
about a hundred and forty miles from Bristol, no more tired (blessed
be God!) than when I left it.” This is marvellous. Here we have a
septuagenarian, in feeble health, travelling, not by railway, nor
yet by coach, but in his own private chaise, in a wintry month, and
on roads not macadamised, a distance of two hundred and eighty miles
in about eight-and-forty hours, and then quietly sitting down and,
without bombast, but with profound gratitude, recording the fact in
the language above given. Can biography furnish a parallel to this? We
doubt it.
On Easter day, April 3, Wesley writes: “I went on to Macclesfield, and
came just in time (so is the scene changed here) to walk to the old
church, with the mayor and the two ministers.”
Here we pause, to notice a man, who afterwards, not only distinguished
himself by his pen and ministerial labours, but became one of Wesley’s
sincerest and warmest friends.
One of the “two ministers,” referred to in this extract, was David
Simpson, now a young man of twenty-eight. Born at Ingleby Arncliffe,
in Yorkshire, and educated at Northallerton, and at Scorton, he, in
1766, entered St. John’s college, Cambridge, where he became acquainted
with Rowland Hill, and a select society of devout collegians, and
was converted. On leaving college, he was ordained, and accepted the
curacy of Ramsden in Essex. He then removed to Buckingham, where, by
his extempore preaching of justification by faith, and the nature
and necessity of the new birth, he provoked alike the hostility of
the surrounding clergy and the sneers of unconverted laics. About
the year 1772, he accepted the invitation of Charles Roe, Esq., to
his residence at Macclesfield, and soon became curate of what Wesley
calls “the old church,” but which, at that period, was the only church
that Macclesfield possessed. Here he married Miss Waldy, of Yarm, a
young lady of distinguished excellence and piety, who died within six
months after Wesley’s visit, leaving to her young husband the care
of an infant daughter. Mr. Simpson’s faithful ministry was as much
disliked at Macclesfield as it had been at Buckingham. Complaints of
his Methodism were made to his diocesan, and twice he was suspended
for preaching doctrines, to which, as a clergyman of the Church of
England, he had solemnly subscribed. Expelled from the pulpit of the
church, he began to preach in the adjacent towns and villages. Just at
this juncture, the prime curacy of the church became vacant, and, the
nomination being an appendage to the office of the mayor for the time
being, Mr. Gould made him the offer, and had the pleasure of seeing it
accepted. To prevent Simpson’s induction, a petition, with seventeen
articles of accusation, was transmitted to the bishop of Chester, all
of which might be reduced to one, namely, that he was a Methodist.
In reply, he says, in a letter to his lordship: “This is true. My
method is to preach the great truths of the gospel, in as plain, and
earnest, and affectionate a manner as I am able. Some, hereby, have
become seriously concerned about their salvation. The change is soon
discovered; they meet with one or another, who invite them to attend
the meetings of the Methodists, by which their number” (the Methodists)
“is increased to a considerable degree. This is the truth. I own the
fact. I confess myself unequal to the difficulty. What would your
lordship advise?” Such was the conflict. Before it came to an issue,
Mr. Roe, at his own expense, erected a church, of which Mr. Simpson
became incumbent in 1775, relinquishing, at the same time, the curacy
which had been a bone of contention. Here he continued to exercise his
successful ministry until 1799, when he peacefully expired.
Among many others, who were benefited by Simpson’s preaching, was a
young female, eighteen years of age, who, on the very day of Wesley’s
visit, above recorded, found peace with God, at Simpson’s sacramental
service, and afterwards became the Hester Ann Rogers, whose journals
and letters have been read by myriads.
On leaving Macclesfield, Wesley proceeded to Manchester and other
places. At Bury, Methodism had been cradled in a storm. On some
occasions, the people were besmeared with the most offensive filth; and
on others were disturbed in their devotions by a huntsman blowing the
hunter’s horn. Again and again the vicar frustrated their attempts to
erect a chapel; but, at length, land at Pitts o’ th’ Moor was bought;
the poor Methodists dug the clay and burnt the bricks; some worked by
day, and others watched by night; and now, in 1774, the building was
completed, and, on the 15th of April, Wesley preached in it.
Leaving Lancashire for Yorkshire, Wesley had, for him, the unusual
honour of preaching on April 17 and 18, in three different churches, at
Halifax, Huddersfield, and Heptonstall; and, on the Sunday following,
he occupied the same position in the church at Haworth. A few days
later, we find him in Scotland, preaching “to a people, the greatest
part of whom,” says he, “hear much, know everything, and feel nothing.”
Here, he tells us, he heard sermons, which unfortunately are too common
at the present day,--sermons full of truth, “but no more likely to
awaken souls than an Italian opera;” and, hence, he himself began to
thunder about death, and judgment, and eternity. At Glasgow, Methodist
matters were not at all to his satisfaction. “How is it,” he asks,
“that there is no increase in the society here? It is exceeding easy
to answer. One preacher stays here two or three months at a time,
preaching on Sunday mornings, and three or four evenings in a week. Can
a Methodist preacher preserve either bodily health, or spiritual life,
with this exercise? And if he is but half alive, what will the people
be?”
At Greenock, he found the same fault; and, at Edinburgh, writes: “Here,
likewise, the morning preaching had been given up; consequently the
people were few, dead, and cold. Things must be remedied, or we must
quit the ground.”
Wesley attended a Scotch funeral, with which he was disgusted. “O what
a difference,” says he, “is there between the English and Scotch method
of burial! The English does honour to human nature; and even to the
poor remains, that were once the temple of the Holy Ghost! But when I
see in Scotland a coffin put into the earth, and covered up without
a word, it reminds me of what was spoken of Jehoiakim, ‘He shall be
buried with the burial of an ass!’”
At Perth, he says, the generality of the people were so wise, that
they needed no more knowledge, and so good, that they needed no more
religion; and, hence, he gave them three thundering sermons, two of
them on hell and the day of judgment.
Wesley’s great difficulty in Scotland was the objection to itinerancy.
“I have written,” says he, in a letter dated October 16, 1774, “to Dr.
Hamilton, that Edinburgh and Dunbar must be supplied by one preacher.
While I live, itinerant preachers shall be itinerants: I mean, if they
choose to remain in connection with me. The society at Greenock are
entirely at their own disposal: they may either have a preacher between
them and Glasgow, or none at all. But more than one between them they
cannot have. I have too much regard both for the bodies and souls of
our preachers, to let them be confined to one place any more. I have
weighed the matter, and will serve the Scots as we do the English, or
leave them.”[205]
The above was addressed to Joseph Benson, at this time stationed in
Scotland, and who has left a memento of Wesley’s visit which is worth
quoting. “I was,” says he, “constantly with him for a week. I had an
opportunity of examining narrowly his spirit and conduct; and, I assure
you, I am more than ever persuaded, he is a _none such_. I know not
his fellow, first, for abilities, natural and acquired; and, secondly,
for his incomparable diligence in the application of those abilities
to the best of employments. His lively fancy, tenacious memory, clear
understanding, ready elocution, manly courage, indefatigable industry,
really amaze me. I admire, but wish in vain to imitate, his diligent
improvement of every moment of time; his wonderful exactness even in
little things; the order and regularity wherewith he does and treats
everything he takes in hand; together with his quick dispatch of
business, and calm, cheerful serenity of soul. I ought not to omit to
mention, what is very manifest to all who know him, his resolution,
which no shocks of opposition can shake; his patience, which no length
of trials can weary; his zeal for the glory of God and the good of man,
which no waters of persecution or tribulation have yet been able to
quench. Happy man! Long hast thou borne the burden and heat of the day,
amidst the insults of foes, and the base treachery of seeming friends;
but thou shalt rest from thy labours, and thy works shall follow
thee!”[206]
On the 10th of June, Wesley reached Newcastle, and, on the day after,
set out for Wolsingham and the dales. Returning to Newcastle, he and
his wife’s daughter, and two grandchildren, had a marvellous escape
from danger and death, in which Wesley believed that angels, both good
and bad, took part. The narrative cannot be given in fewer or better
words than in his own. We merely premise, that Horsley is a village
a few miles west of Newcastle; and that Mr. Smith had married Mrs.
Wesley’s daughter. Wesley writes:
“Monday, June 20--About nine, I set out for Horsley, with Mr. Hopper
and Mr. Smith. I took Mrs. Smith, and her two little girls, in the
chaise with me. About two miles from the town, just on the brow of
the hill, on a sudden both the horses set out, without any visible
cause, and flew down the hill, like an arrow. In a minute, John fell
off the coach box. The horses then went on full speed, sometimes to
the edge of the ditch on the right, sometimes on the left. A cart
came up against them; they avoided it as exactly as if the man had
been on the box. A narrow bridge was at the foot of the hill. They
went directly over the middle of it. They ran up the next hill with
the same speed; many persons meeting us, but getting out of the
way. Near the top of the hill was a gate, which led into a farmer’s
yard. It stood open. They turned short, and run through it, without
touching the gate on one side, or the post on the other. I thought,
‘The gate which is on the other side of the yard, and is shut, will
stop them’; but they rushed through it, as if it had been a cobweb,
and galloped on through the cornfield. The little girls cried out,
‘Grandpapa, save us!’ I told them, ‘Nothing will hurt you: do not be
afraid’; feeling no more fear or care than if I had been sitting in
my study. The horses ran on, till they came to the edge of a steep
precipice. Just then Mr. Smith, who could not overtake us before,
galloped in between. They stopped in a moment. Had they gone on ever
so little, he and we must have gone down together!”
This was one of the narrowest escapes from death that Wesley ever had;
and his remarks upon it are worth adding.
“I am persuaded, that both evil and good angels had a large share
in this transaction: how large we do not know now; but we shall
know hereafter. I think some of the most remarkable circumstances
were: (1) Both the horses, which were tame and quiet as could be,
starting out in a moment, just at the top of the hill, and running
down full speed. (2) The coachman’s being thrown on his head with
such violence, and yet not hurt at all. (3) The chaise running
again and again to the edge of each ditch, and yet not into it.
(4) The avoiding the cart. (5) The keeping just the middle of the
bridge. (6) The turning short through the first gate, in a manner
that no coachman in England could have turned them, when in full
gallop. (7) The going through the second gate as if it had been but
smoke, without slackening their pace at all. This would have been
impossible, had not the end of the chariot pole struck exactly on the
centre of the gate; whence the whole, by the sudden impetuous shock,
was broke into small pieces. Lastly, that Mr. Smith struck in just
then: in a minute more we had been down the precipice. ‘Let those
give thanks whom the Lord hath redeemed, and delivered from the hand
of the enemy!’”
Newcastle was one of Wesley’s favourite haunts. However cruelly his
wife treated him, her daughter and her son in law, Mr. and Mrs.
Smith, always seem to have shown him kindness; and, hence, he always
appeared to quit Newcastle with reluctance. He writes: “June 27--I
took my leave of this lovely place and people.” The next day was his
birthday, which he celebrated as follows: “This being the first day of
my seventy-second year, I was considering, How is this, that I find
just the same strength as I did thirty years ago? that my sight is
considerably better now, and my nerves firmer, than they were then?
that I have none of the infirmities of old age, and have lost several
I had in my youth? The grand cause is, the good pleasure of God, who
doeth whatsoever pleaseth Him. The chief means are: (1) My constantly
rising at four, for about fifty years. (2) My generally preaching at
five in the morning; one of the most healthy exercises in the world.
(3) My never travelling less, by sea or land, than four thousand five
hundred miles a year.”
Some will smile at this; but those who think, will hardly doubt, that
the three things mentioned, so far from injuring health and shortening
life, were among the likeliest of all likely things to be the means of
preserving the one, and extending the other.
It is scarcely necessary to follow Wesley, in his wanderings through
Durham, through the three ridings of the county of York, and through
Lincolnshire; and then right away through Madeley, Worcester, and
Cheltenham, to Bristol, where he arrived on August 6. The reader can
easily find all this in his journal; we here prefer to give a few
extracts from his letters.
Reference has just been made to Wesley’s vigour. We incline to think
that, on his birthday, in the bright month of June, he was sometimes
more jubilant than facts warranted. At all events, the following
extract from a letter to his brother, written within two months before
his birthday came, is scarcely in harmony with what was written then.
“WHITEHAVEN, _May 6, 1774_.
“DEAR BROTHER,--Duty is all I consider. Trouble and reproach I value
not. And I am by no means clear, that I can, with a good conscience,
throw away what I think the providence of God has put into my hands.
Were it not for the chancery suit, I should not hesitate a moment.
“My complaint increases by slow degrees, much the same as before. It
seems, I am likely to need a surgeon every nine or ten weeks. Mr.
Hey, of Leeds, vehemently advises me, never to attempt what they call
a radical cure.
“I never said a word of ‘publishing it after my death.’[207] I
judged it my duty to publish it now; and I have as good a right to
believe one way as any man has to believe another. I was glad of
an opportunity of declaring myself on the head. I beg Hugh Bold to
let me think as well as himself; and to believe my judgment will go
as far as his. I have no doubt of the substance, both of Glanvil’s
and Cotton Mather’s narratives.[208] Therefore, in this point, you
that are otherwise minded, bear with me. _Veniam petimusque damusque
vicissim._ Remember, I am, upon full consideration, and seventy
years’ experience, just as obstinate in my opinion as you in yours.
Do not you think, the disturbances in my father’s house were a Cock
Lane story? Peace be with you and yours!
“JOHN WESLEY.”[209]
Such was Wesley’s reply to his brother’s remonstrance against the
publication of his opinions on witchcraft and apparitions. The next
letter, addressed to a lady in Ireland, refers to two important
matters,--the Calvinian controversy, and Wesley’s method of dealing
with contumacious Methodists.
“LEEDS, _May 2, 1774_.
“MY DEAR SISTER,--Until Mr. Hill and his associates puzzled the
cause, it was as plain as plain could be. The Methodists always
held, and have declared a thousand times, the death of Christ is the
meritorious cause of our salvation; that is, of pardon, holiness, and
glory: loving, obedient faith is the condition of glory. This Mr.
Fletcher has so illustrated and confirmed, as, I think, scarcely any
one has done before since the apostles.
“When Mr. W. wrote me a vehement letter concerning the abuse he had
received from the young men in Limerick, and his determination to put
them all out of society, if they did not acknowledge their fault, I
much wondered what could be the matter, and only wrote him word, ‘I
never put any out of our society for anything they say of me.’
“Your ever affectionate
“JOHN WESLEY.”[210]
The ensuing letters have relation to a book, an abridgment of which
Wesley afterwards published, and concerning which some of his admirers
have felt puzzled, and others pained. This is not the place for a
disquisition on novels and novel reading; but it is a curious fact,
that Wesley, the earnest and untiring evangelist, found time, not only
to read a novel, but to print it.
Henry Brooke, Esq., an Irish barrister, was the son of an Irish
rector; and, besides a number of plays and poems, in four volumes,
8vo, was the author of two novels, “The Fool of Quality,” and “Juliet
Grenville.”[211] His nephew, Henry, was a devoted Methodist, a friend
of Fletcher, and one of Wesley’s correspondents. “The Fool of Quality”
was first published, in five vols., in 1766, and was thus criticised
in the _Monthly Review_ of that period. “A performance enriched by
genius, enlivened by fancy, bewildered with enthusiasm, and overrun
with the visionary jargon of fanaticism. We wish the author would
give us an abridgment, cleared from the sanctimonious rubbish by
which its beauties are so much obscured. In its present state, it
will be a favourite only with Behmenites, Herrnhutters, Methodists,
Hutchinsonians, and some of the Roman Catholics.”
This was the book which Wesley read, and concerning which he wrote to
Henry Brooke, the author’s nephew.
“HULL, _July 8, 1774_.
“DEAR HARRY,--When I read over, in Ireland, ‘The Fool of Quality,’ I
could not but observe the design of it, to promote the religion of
the heart, and that it was well calculated to answer that design;
the same thing I observed, a week or two ago, concerning ‘Juliet
Grenville.’ Yet, there seemed to me to be a few passages, both in
the one and the other, which might be altered for the better; I do
not mean, so much with regard to the sentiments, which are generally
very just, as with regard to the structure of the story, which seemed
here and there to be not quite clear. I had, at first, a thought of
writing to Mr. Brooke himself, but I did not know whether I might
take the liberty. Few authors will thank you, for imagining you are
able to correct their works. But, if he could bear it, and thinks
it would be of any use, I would give another reading to both these
works, and send him my thoughts without reserve, just as they occur.
I am, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[212]
The answer to this was as follows.
“DUBLIN, _August 6, 1774_.
“REVEREND SIR,--My uncle’s health is greatly impaired.[213] A kind of
vertigo continues not only to enfeeble his limbs, but to interrupt
his study and writing. However, I trust, as his outward man decays,
his inward man is renewed daily.
“He is deeply sensible of your very kind offer, and most cordially
embraces it. He has desired me to express the warmth of his gratitude
in the strongest terms, and says he most cheerfully yields the
volumes you mention, to your superior judgment, to prune, erase, and
alter as you please. He only wishes, they could have had your eye
before they appeared in public. But it is not yet too late. A second
edition will appear with great advantage, when they have undergone
so kind a revisal. But he is apprehensive, your time is so precious,
that it may be too great an intrusion upon it, unless made a work of
leisure and opportunity. Yet, as you have proffered it, he will not
give up the privilege; but hopes leisure may be found for so friendly
and generous a work.
“I am, reverend sir, your most affectionate friend and brother,
“H. BROOKE.”[214]
Perhaps there have been published as many portraits of Wesley as of any
man that ever lived. The year 1774 was, in this respect, remarkable.
At its commencement, Wesley writes: “I was desired by Mrs. Wright, of
New York, to let her take my effigy in waxwork. She has that of Mr.
Whitefield and many others; but none of them, I think, comes up to a
well drawn picture.” Query, what has become of this waxwork effigy?
Besides the waxwork figure, there were others. From the manuscript
letters of Samuel Bardsley, we learn that, already, the potters of
Staffordshire had printed his likeness on their crockery; and Mr. Voyes
of Corbridge had had it engraved on the seals he sold.
These are little facts; but they indicate Wesley’s growing popularity.
The people ask for the portraits of public men only. A man must be
notorious before the masses wish to see him. Thus it was in the case of
Wesley. For five-and-thirty years, he had been before the public. No
man had been more bitterly persecuted by his enemies; and no man was
more ardently beloved by his friends. His fame had spread throughout
the three kingdoms; and all sorts of artists began to use him for their
own advantage.
Wesley was not fond of sitting for his portrait, though this was often
done. On one occasion, while dining with a friend, in the neighbourhood
of Blackfriars, an eminent artist offered him ten guineas as a bribe,
to induce him to allow a cast of his face to be taken. “No,” said
Wesley, “keep your money, and urge me no further.” “Sir,” said the
artist, “I will not detain you more than three minutes.” Wesley
consented; the cast was taken; and so also was the money: but no sooner
was Wesley out of doors, than he saw an agitated crowd, surrounding an
auctioneer, who was about to sell, not only the furniture of a poor
debtor, but the bed upon which he was actually dying. In an instant,
Wesley rushed into the throng, seized the arm of the auctioneer, and
cried, “What’s the debt?” “Ten guineas,” was the answer. “Take it,”
said Wesley, “and let the poor man have his furniture again;” and,
then turning to John Broadbent, who was with him, he quietly observed,
“Brother Broadbent, I see why God sent me these ten guineas.”[215]
Methodism in America has been mentioned. The work there was now greatly
growing. Twelve months before, Wesley had sent out one of his favourite
preachers, Thomas Rankin, to act as a sort of generalissimo. Perhaps a
wiser selection might have been made. At all events, Rankin’s honest
hearted brusqueness sometimes gave offence. Boardman and Pilmoor, and
Asbury, were all predecessors in point of time; but they and four other
itinerants had now to recognise Rankin as their chief. In age and
ministerial standing, they were nearly equal; but Rankin, by Wesley’s
favour, had the preeminence. Asbury winced, but was too good a man to
raise rebellion. He writes: “1774, May 25--Our conference began at
Philadelphia. The overbearing spirit of a certain person had excited
my fears. My judgment was stubbornly opposed for a while, and, at
last, submitted to. But it is my duty to bear all things with a meek
and patient spirit. Our conference was attended with great power, and
all acquiesced in the future stations of the preachers. If I were not
deeply conscious of the truth and goodness of the cause in which I am
engaged, I should, by no means, stay here. Lord, what a world is this!
yea, what a religious world!”[216]
Within two years, the entire band were scattered by the colonial
rebellion, and apostolic Asbury was the only one remaining. Meanwhile,
Rankin sent to Wesley an account of the first Methodist conference in
America, and Wesley replied to him as follows.
“EPWORTH, _July 21, 1774_.
“DEAR TOMMY,--In yours of May the 30th, you give me an agreeable
account of your little conference in Philadelphia. I think G.
Shadford and you desire no novelties, but love good old Methodist
discipline and doctrine. I have been lately thinking a good deal on
one point, wherein, perhaps, we have all been wanting. We have not
made it a rule, as soon as ever persons were justified, to remind
them of going on to perfection. Whereas, this is the very time
preferable to all others. They have then the simplicity of little
children; and they are fervent in spirit, ready to cut off the right
hand, or to pluck out the right eye. But, if we once suffer this
fervour to subside, we shall find it hard enough to bring them again
to this point.
“I am, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[217]
Before passing from America, it is worth recording, that it was in
the year 1774 that Methodism was introduced into another part of
Newfoundland. In the month of March in that year, John Hoskins, a
London Methodist, and his son, a lad of about sixteen years of age,
embarked at Poole in Dorsetshire, and landed in Newfoundland five weeks
afterwards. The intention of Hoskins was to work there till he had
obtained money enough to take him to New England, where he wished to
begin a school. He landed at Trinity penniless, and utterly unknown,
and found himself in a “rocky, desolate country,” and surrounded
by a “few, low, mean huts, built of wood.” He entered one to make
inquiries as to how he might obtain subsistence; the good woman of
the hut gave him some seal and bread to eat; and the minister of the
place advised him to open a school at Old Perlican, where about fifty
families resided. Away he went, a distance of one-and-twenty miles; the
people received him gladly; and his school was opened. Here there was
literally no religious worship whatever; but the schoolmaster began
to read the Church prayers, and Wesley’s sermons; the people standing
at a distance and looking at him as if he had been a monster. He then
proceeded to give extempore exhortations; a few began to be serious;
some helped him to sing; sixteen became penitent, and were formed into
a class; and two or three soon found peace with God. Just at this
juncture, Mr. Arthur Thomy, an Irish merchant, visited the place on
business, and preached twice or thrice, confirming what Hoskins had
said, and the society increased to forty members, and the _believers_
to eight.
Thus was Methodism begun at Old Perlican. It soon spread. Island Cove
had a society of thirty, and was the first to build a chapel. At
Harbourgrace and Carbonear, where Mr. Coughlan had laboured, Calvinism
and antinomianism were rampant, and Methodism had dwindled to almost
nothing. The movement at Old Perlican was a new beginning; and Hoskins,
the schoolmaster, and Thomy, the Irish merchant, were the chief actors.
Thomy often travelled as far as fifty miles to preach; and sometimes
met with brutal treatment. The Irish were his bitterest enemies, and,
on one occasion, came with their shillalahs to kill him. Hoskins, also,
had his share of persecution. Once he was daubed all over with tar, and
was further threatened to be stuck with feathers. The work, however,
prospered; and, in 1785, _Newfoundland_ became one of the _circuits_ in
Wesley’s minutes.
The conference, at Bristol, was opened on August 9. Wesley writes:
“The conference, which begun and ended in love, fully employed me on
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday; and we observed Friday, 12th, as a
day of fasting and prayer for the success of the gospel.”
Thomas Taylor, who was present, says: “August 9--Most of the day was
taken up in temporal matters, which is dry business. August 10--This
morning our characters were examined, and that closely. The afternoon
was chiefly spent in taking in new preachers. In the evening, Mr.
Wesley gave us but an indifferent sermon. August 11--We spent this day
pretty profitably in considering some things of importance; especially
how to prevent levity, idleness, and evil speaking. At night, Mr.
Wesley gave us a profitable discourse on brotherly love.”[218]
Miss March, in an unpublished letter, dated August 23, 1774, observes:
“Our conference is now ended. I promised myself a jubilee, a
time of holy rejoicing, but found it rather a season of hurry
and dissipation. Mr. Wesley opened the conference with a plan of
great and necessary business. His preaching was chiefly to the
preachers,--of the searching, reproving kind. The preachers said
there was much concord amongst them, and one observed, Mr. Wesley
seemed to do all the business himself. Friday was the best time, and
the evening sermon, from Matthew vii. 24, was the prettiest and most
simple discourse I ever heard on that text. Mr. Wesley left us on
Monday for Wales. When he first came he looked worn down with care
and sorrow; but he left us well and lively.”
It was at this conference that Samuel Bradburn and James Rogers were
admitted on trial; and that Joseph Pilmoor, for some reason, deserted
Thomas Rankin in America, and desisted from travelling.
No sooner was the conference over, than Wesley again set out on his
evangelistic travels. The next twelve days were spent in Wales. He
returned to Bristol for the Sunday services on August 28; and, on
the day following, started off to Cornwall. He came back to Bristol
on September 9, and employed the next month in the city and its
neighbourhood. Being the time of a parliamentary election, he met the
Bristol society, and advised those of them who had votes:--“1. To vote,
without fee or reward, for the person they judged most worthy. 2. To
speak no evil of the person they voted against. 3. To take care their
spirits were not sharpened against those that voted on the other side.”
Wesley came to London on October 15, and spent the remainder of the
year in his usual winter journeys.
Norwich was again a trouble. He writes: “Never was a poor society so
neglected as this has been for the year past. The morning preaching was
at an end; the bands suffered all to fall in pieces; and no care at all
taken of the classes, so that, whether they met or not, it was all one;
going to church and sacrament were forgotten; and the people rambled
hither and thither as they listed. I met the society, and told them
plain, I was resolved to have a regular society or none. I then read
the rules, and desired every one to consider whether he was willing to
walk by these rules or no. Those, in particular, of meeting their class
every week, unless hindered by distance or sickness; and being constant
at church and sacrament. I desired those who were so minded to meet me
the next night, and the rest to stay away. The next night we had far
the greater part. I spoke to every leader, concerning every one under
his care, and put out every person whom they could not recommend to me.
After this was done, out of 204 members, 174 remained. And these points
shall be carried, if only fifty remain in society.”
On his return to London, he visited Ely and St. Ives, and met with
an adventure which was strange, even in his experience. Approaching
Ely, Mr. Dancer met him with a chaise. For a mile and a half, the road
was inundated. “How must foot people come to Ely?” he asked. “Why,”
replied simple Mr. Dancer, “they must wade.” The farther he went, the
more difficult and dangerous was the way. Between Ely and St. Ives,
snow fell in great abundance, and, at considerable peril, Wesley’s
borrowed chaise was piloted by Mr. Tubbs, who trudged along, at the
horse’s head, and, up to his knees in mud and water, naively said, “We
fen men don’t mind a little dirt.” For four miles, Wesley was dragged
through this “slough of despond,” when further progress, for the
vehicle, became impossible. He tried to proceed on horseback; but this
also was soon impracticable, the whole district being one wide waste of
water. “Here, therefore,” says he, “I procured a boat, full twice as
large as a kneading trough. I was at one end, and a boy at the other,
who paddled me safe to Erith; where Miss L---- waited for me with
another chaise, which brought me safe to St. Ives.”
Wesley concluded the year’s itinerary thus: “December 25--During the
twelve festival days, we had the Lord’s supper daily; a little emblem
of the primitive church.”
Was this a lingering remnant of Wesley’s high churchism? What would be
said of the Methodists of the present day, were they to imitate the
example of their founder?
The Calvinian controversy still proceeded. The _Gospel Magazine_ told
its readers, that Arminianism “is a system founded in ignorance,
supported by pride, and will end in delusion.” The Hon. and Rev. W. B.
Cadogan, a young man of twenty-three, and, though not yet ordained,
already presented to the living of St. Giles, Reading, burned Wesley’s
works in his kitchen, saying “he was determined to form his opinions
from the Bible alone.”[219] The two Hills were silent, with the
exception of Mr. Richard’s “Lash at Enthusiasm, in a Dialogue founded
upon real Facts.” The principal Calvinistic work, published at this
period, was Toplady’s “Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism of
the Church of England,” in two volumes, 8vo, with an Introduction,
most lamentably virulent. The subject is repulsive; but, rightly to
understand Wesley’s provocations and patience, it is necessary to give
extracts from this scandalous production of a conceited but clever
man, who acted as though the Almighty had elected him to revile his
neighbours, without either sense or reason.
“Mr. John Wesley and Mr. Walter Sellon are a pair of insignificant
adversaries, who have arraigned, tried, and condemned the Church of
England. In general, they are so excessively scurrilous and abusive,
that contending with them resembles fighting with chimney sweepers,
or bathing in a mud pool.” “Mr. Walter Sellon is Mr. John Wesley’s
retainer general and whitewasher in ordinary. Arminianism is their
mutual Dulcinea del Toboso. High mounted on Pine’s Rosinante, forth
sallies Mr. John from Wine Street, Bristol, brandishing his reed,
and vowing vengeance against all, who will not fall down and worship
the Dutch image which he has set up. With an almost equal plenitude
of zeal and prowess, forth trots Mr. Walter from Ave Maria Lane, low
mounted on Cabe’s halting dapple. The knight and the squire having met
at the rendezvous appointed, the former prances foremost, and, with as
much haste as his limping steed will permit, doth trusty Walter amble
after his master.” Sellon is Wesley’s “understrapper”; the “junto
are Parthians aiming their arrows at the sun; and wolves exhausting
their strength by howling at the moon.” Sellon “dips his pen in the
common sewer”; and Wesley “scatters firebrands.” “The world has long
seen, that unmixed politeness can no more soften Mr. Wesley’s rugged
rudeness, than the melody of David’s harp could lay the north wind.”
Sellon was “a small body of Pelagian divinity, bound in calf, neither
gilt nor lettered”; “the meanest, and most rancorous Arminian priest
that ever disgraced a surplice.” “We would advise his Arminian holiness
of Rome to cashier the image of St. Austin from serving any longer as
a support to his easy chair; and to procure an effigy of Mr. Walter
Sellon, to serve--not, indeed, upon due recollection, as a stay to his
holiness’s throne--nor even as a prop to his footstool; but as a leg
to a certain convenience (a _sella perforata_, though not the _sella
porphyretica_), whereon, I presume, his holiness deigns, occasionally,
to sit.” Wesley’s Notes on the New Testament are “a wretched bundle of
plagiarisms”; and he himself “drives a larger traffic in blunders and
blasphemies than any other blunder merchant this island has produced.”
Such are a few of the mild and merciful oracular utterances of the
elect Augustus Toplady; who says he blamed himself “for handling
Wesley too gently, and for only giving him the whip when he deserved a
scorpion.”
Fletcher, during 1774, published:--(1) “The Fictitious and the Genuine
Creed; being ‘A Creed for Arminians,’ composed by Richard Hill, Esq.;
to which is opposed a Creed for those who believe that Christ tasted
death for every man.” 12mo, 52 pages. (2) “Logica Genevensis continued;
or, the first part of the Fifth Check to Antinomianism, containing
an Answer to ‘The Finishing Stroke’ of Richard Hill, Esq.; in which
some remarks upon Mr. Fulsome’s Antinomian Creed, published by the
Rev. Mr. Berridge, are occasionally introduced.” 12mo, 48 pages. (3)
“Logica Genevensis continued; or, the second part of the Fifth Check
to Antinomianism, containing a Defence of ‘Jack o’ Lanthorn,’ and ‘The
Paper Kite,’ _i. e._ sincere obedience; and of the ‘Cobweb,’ _i. e._
the evangelical law of liberty; and of the ‘Valiant Sergeant, J. F.,’
_i. e._ the conditionality of perseverance, attacked by the Rev. Mr.
Berridge, in his book called ‘The Christian World Unmasked.’” 12mo,
44 pages. (4) “The First Part of an Equal Check to Pharisaism and
Antinomianism.” 12mo, 264 pages. (5) “Zelotes and Honestus reconciled;
or, an Equal Check to Pharisaism and Antinomianism continued: being the
first part of the Scripture Scales to weigh the Gold of Gospel Truth.
With a Preface containing some Strictures upon the Three Letters of
Richard Hill, Esq., which have been lately published.” 12mo, 175 pages.
The whole of these publications, extending to nearly 600 pages, are
full of the greatest truths, and, like all Fletcher’s writings, are
entirely free from personal abuse, and are worthy of a gentleman, a
scholar, and a Christian.
We can hardly say as much of another work, published in 1774: “A
Scourge to Calumny, in two parts, inscribed to Richard Hill, Esq. Part
the First, demonstrating the Absurdity of that Gentleman’s Farrago.
Part the Second, containing a full Answer to all that is material in
his Farrago Double Distilled. By Thomas Olivers.” 12mo, 168 pages.
Richard Hill deserved all he got; but Fletcher would have hesitated
before charging him, as is done by Olivers, “_with wilful untruth_.”
At the same time, it is impossible not to have a feeling of admiration
for the sturdy Welshman, when he says to the wealthy squire, who had
rudely called him _Tom the cobbler_: “Permit me to tell you, sir, that
_my name_ is as sacred to _me_, as _yours is to you_. If _you_ were
the greatest peer of the realm, and _I_ the poorest peasant, the laws
of God and of my country would authorise me to call you to an account,
for every insult offered to my character, either as a fellow creature,
or as an Englishman. You have no more authority, either from reason or
religion, to call me _Tom_, than I have to call you _Dick_.”
Having hurled a lance in his own defence, he then proceeds to defend
Wesley, telling Mr. Hill, that the man he had maligned was one who had
published a hundred volumes, who travelled yearly about five thousand
miles, preached yearly about a thousand sermons, visited as many sick
beds as he preached sermons, and wrote twice as many letters; and who,
though now between seventy and eighty years of age, “absolutely refused
to abate, in the smallest degree, these mighty labours; but might be
seen, at this very time, with his silver locks about his ears, and with
a meagre, worn out, skeleton body, _smiling_ at storms and tempests,
at such labours and fatigues, at such difficulties and dangers, as, I
believe,” says Olivers, “would be absolutely intolerable to _you_, sir,
in conjunction with any four of _your most flaming_ ministers.”
Wesley’s own publications, in 1774, were not many.
First of all, there was the fifteenth number of his Journal, already
mentioned: 12mo, 112 pages. Then there was “An Extract from Dr.
Cadogan’s Dissertations on the Gout, and all Chronic Diseases,” already
referred to on page 111. 12mo, 49 pages. This was a bold stroke. Dr.
Cadogan’s work had not been more than ten years published; it had
been extremely popular, and had run through several editions; the
doctor himself was now at the zenith of his fame, and did not die
for three-and-twenty years afterwards; and, yet, Wesley takes upon
himself, not to publish the work itself, but an extract from it, and to
write a preface to it, in which he objects to the doctor’s wholesale
condemnation of “smoked and salted meats, of pickles, of wine, and
of flesh, thoroughly roasted or boiled.” Wesley says: “I recommend
the book as the most masterly piece upon the subject, which has yet
appeared in the English language.”
Another of Wesley’s publications was “Thoughts upon Necessity,” 12mo,
33 pages. This was one of his most thoughtful and able tracts. Its
purport may be gathered from a sentence in his preface,--“I cannot
believe the noblest creature in the visible world to be only a fine
piece of clockwork.”
To the above must be added his “Thoughts on Slavery,” 8vo, 53 pages.
It ought never to be forgotten, that John Wesley was one of the very
first of England’s philanthropists to denounce the infamous evil of
slavery. Statues, and other honours, declarative of a nation’s homage,
have been justly awarded to Wilberforce; but Wesley’s record is on
high; and the day has yet to come when the influence of his advanced
views will be duly and gratefully recognised. Even some of Wesley’s
friends were strangely blinded to a system that he boldly denounced
as the “execrable sum of all villanies”; and Whitefield himself, only
four years before, had died the possessor of a large number of human
beings, who, in his will, were classed among his goods and chattels,
and whom he unceremoniously bequeathed to “that elect lady, the Right
Honourable Selina, Countess Dowager of Huntingdon.” Wesley’s pamphlet
was no sooner issued than it brought upon him vindictive opposition, in
a two shilling book, entitled “A Supplement to Mr. Wesley’s ‘Thoughts
upon Slavery’”; in which the writer does his utmost to make the
leader of the Methodists ridiculous. Wesley had counted the cost, and
expected this. In America it was otherwise. There, at Philadelphia,
Mr. Anthony Benezet republished Wesley’s tract at his own expense, and
sent to him a friendly salutation, by William Dillwyn, “my old pupil,”
says Benezet, “a valuable, religiously minded person, who is going a
voyage to your country”;[220] and who, thirteen years afterwards, in
1787, became one of the founders of the Society for the Suppression of
Slavery.
Wesley still continued the publication of his collected works; and, in
1774, seven additional volumes were issued, making the entire number
thirty-two. The last seven, with the exception of three small tracts,
consisted exclusively of his journals, coming down to September 1, 1770.
Perhaps there ought to be added another publication, which, though
not printed by Wesley, was his production: “A Sermon preached at
the opening of the new Meeting-house at Wakefield, on the 28th of
April, 1774, by the Rev. John Wesley: taken down in shorthand, at
the time of delivery, by Mr. Williamson, a teacher of that art, and
published at the request of many of the hearers. Leeds: 1774. Sold
by all Booksellers, price threepence.” 8vo, 12 pages. The text is 1
Corinthians i. 23, 24. The sermon, perhaps properly, has never been
published in any edition of Wesley’s works. Though it contains nothing
remarkable, it would enrich the _Methodist Magazine_, and would be
gratefully welcomed by thousands of readers, who, without a reissue,
will never see it.