[700] Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 380.
[701] _Methodist Magazine_, 1830, p. 251.
[702] Dunn’s Life of Clarke, p. 72.
[703] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 105.
[704] Pawson’s manuscripts.
[705] Moore’s sermon.
[706] _Methodist Magazine_, 1832, p. 594.
[707] Benson’s Life, by Macdonald, p. 209.
[708] Dunn’s Life of Clarke, pp. 72, 73.
[709] _Methodist Magazine_, 1845, p. 119.
[710] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 113.
[711] “Methodism in Preston,” p. 44.
[712] Cutler’s Life, p. 5.
[713] _Methodist Magazine_, 1792, p. 66.
[714] “Methodism in Halifax,” p. 181.
[715] See page 472 of this volume.
[716] _Methodist Magazine_, 1845, p. 121.
[717] _Methodist Magazine_, 1795, p. 423.
[718] Moore’s Life, p. 89.
[719] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 94.
[720] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 105.
[721] Kilham’s Life, by Blackwell, p. 114.
[722] _Methodist Magazine_, 1836, p. 494.
[723] Black’s Memoirs, p. 265.
[724] Moore’s Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 384.
[725] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 139.
[726] Dunn’s Life of Clarke, p. 73.
[727] Ought it not to be sixty-eight.
[728] An error occurred in the first edition of this
volume, on page 224. It was there stated, that Wesley
received £60 a year; it ought to have been £30.
According to the old circuit book, at City Road, it
was the custom to pay him £15 in the first quarter of
each year, and £15 in the last.
[729] Now his steward.
[730] The sentence is unfinished.
[731] Samuel Bradburn remarks: “I know that, from the
conference of 1780 to the conference of 1781, he gave
away, in _private charities_, above £1400. He told me
himself, in 1787, that he never gave away, out of his
own pocket, less than £1000 a year.” Bradburn adds:
“He never relieved poor people in the street, but he
either took off, or removed, his hat to them, when
they thanked him.”
[732] _Methodist Magazine_, 1825, p. 25.
[733] Ibid. 1828, p. 741; and _Christian Miscellany_, 1847,
p. 173.
[734] _Methodist Magazine_, 1792, p. 288.
[735] Ibid. 1856, p. 234.
[736] Ibid. 1845, p. 123.
[737] Clarke’s Life, vol. i., p. 277.
[738] _Methodist Magazine_, 1847, p. 211.
[739] _Methodist Magazine_, 1837, p. 11.
[740] The assistant in Chatham circuit.
[741] The wife of Charles Boone, the assistant in
Canterbury circuit.
[742] _Local Preachers’ Magazine_, 1851, p. 75.
[743] _Methodist Magazine_, 1847, p. 656.
[744] _Wesleyan Times_, June 11, 1866.
[745] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 98.
[746] _Wesleyan Times_, June 11, 1866.
[747] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 8.
[748] This was done with the approbation of the London
stewards, who paid £1 19_s._ for the carriages and
expenses. (City Road society book.)
[749] Life of James Rogers, p. 44.
[750] Life of James Rogers, p. 44.
[751] _Youth’s Instructor_, 1833, p. 330.
[752] _Methodist Magazine_, 1841, p. 1.
[753] Ibid.
[754] “Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence of Henry
Crabb Robinson,” vol. i., p. 20.
[755] Crabbe’s Life.
[756] _Methodist Magazine_, 1856, p. 203.
[757] Reynolds’ “Anecdotes of Wesley,” p. 39.
[758] _Methodist Magazine_, 1846, p. 1189.
[759] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 113.
[760] Merely in the circuits above mentioned (a fraction
of the Dales circuit) there are, at present, 7819
members. (See Minutes of Conference, 1870.)
[761] Circuit manuscript books.
[762] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 109.
[763] Sigston’s Life of Bramwell.
[764] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 99.
[765] Manuscript letter, kindly lent by Charles Reed, Esq.,
M.P.
[766] _Methodist Magazine_, 1790, pp. 348, 400, etc.
[767] _Methodist Magazine_, 1792, p. 341, etc.
1791.
Age 88
Only two months of Wesley’s eventful life are left unnarrated. The
following letters, belonging to this period, will be read with
interest.
The first was addressed to Adam Clarke, who, in Dublin, had buried his
eldest daughter, and was himself dangerously afflicted with rheumatic
affection in the head.[768]
“_January 3, 1791._
“DEAR ADAM,--You startle me when you talk of grieving so much
for the death of an infant. This is certainly a proof of
inordinate affection; and, if you love them _thus_, all your
children will die. How did Mr. De Renty behave when he supposed
his wife to be dying? There is a pattern for a Christian.
“But you forget to send me anything about magnetism. John
Bredin is a weak brother: let him not complain. He behaved ill
both at Jersey and Guernsey; but let him behave well now, and
that will be forgotten. I wish my dear sister Clarke and you
many happy years; and am, dear Adam, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[769]
The next has not before been published. It was written to Thomas
Taylor, then in the Hull circuit. Dr. King was made archbishop of
Dublin in 1702, and died in 1729. He was author of “_De Origine
Mali_,” written to prove, that the existence of natural and moral evil
is not incompatible with the power and goodness of the Deity, and may
be accounted for without the supposition of an evil principle.
“LONDON, _January 6, 1791_.
“DEAR TOMMY,--With regard to the powerful workings of the
Spirit, I think those words of our Lord are chiefly to be
understood: ‘The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou
hearest the sound thereof,’ (thou art sure of the fact,) ‘but
canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth.’
“Make your yearly subscription when you see best, only take
care it does not interfere with any other subscription.
“The tract of Archbishop King has been particularly admired by
many persons of excellent sense. I do not admire it so much as
they do; but I like it well. Yet, I have corrected a far better
tract on the same subject, perhaps, the last I shall have to
publish.[770]
“Indeed, I hope I shall not live to be useless. I wish you and
yours many happy years, and am, dear Tommy, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”
The next letter, addressed to Miss Bolton of Witney, contains an
important reference to Wesley’s state of health.
“LONDON, _January 12, 1791_.
“MY DEAR NANCY,--I thank you for your welcome present, and
rejoice to hear that your health is better. What is it, which
is good for us, that our Lord will not give, if we can but
trust Him?
“These four last days, I have had better health than I had for
several months before. Only my sight continues much as it was.
But good is the will of the Lord.
“I am, dear Nancy, affectionately yours,
“J. WESLEY.”[771]
The following was addressed to the wife of Adam Clarke, and refers to
her husband’s serious affliction, as well as to the loss of their
daughter.
“LONDON, _January 18, 1791_.
“MY DEAR SISTER,--Before this time, I hope God has heard
prayer, and given brother Clarke a little more ease. I should
suspect a dropsy in the brain, which, though formerly judged
incurable, has lately been cured.
“Both brother Clarke and you have large proofs that whom the
Lord loveth He chasteneth. He knoweth the way whence you go;
when you have been tried, you shall come forth as gold.
“I wonder at the folly of Mr. V. Surely, he is a very weak man.
But I shall judge better when I have seen his performances.
Peace be multiplied again!
“I am, my dear sister, ever yours,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[772]
John Booth was now assistant in Keighley circuit, and to him was
addressed the following.
“LONDON, _January 29, 1791_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,--You give me a very agreeable account of the
progress of the work of God in your circuit. As to the poor,
self conceited enthusiasts in Keighley, it seems best that you
should never name them in public; but, when occasion offers,
strike at the root of their errors, by clearly proving the
truth which they deny. And whenever you meet with any of them
in private, then speak and spare not. Whenever you have
opportunity of speaking to believers, urge them to go on to
perfection. Spare no pains; and God, even our own God, still
give you His blessing!
“I am, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[773]
Miss Cambridge was an Irish Methodist, twenty-nine years of age, and
had established meetings in various parts of the town of Bandon, at
which she prayed and occasionally exhorted. She had also held similar
meetings at Kinsale, Youghal, and other places. Many of the
Methodists, and some of the Methodist preachers, pronounced her public
addresses to be entirely irregular, and what ought not to be tolerated
in the Christian church. She wrote to Wesley for advice; and received
the following reply,--Wesley’s last utterance on female preaching.
“LONDON, _January 31, 1791_.
“MY DEAR SISTER,--I received your letter an hour ago. I thank
you for writing so largely and so freely; do so always to me as
your friend, as one that loves you well. Mr. Barber has the
glory of God at heart; and so have his fellow labourers. Give
them all honour, and obey them in all things as far as
conscience permits. But it will not permit you to be silent
when God commands you to speak; yet, I would have you give as
little offence as possible; and, therefore, I would advise you
not to speak at any place where a preacher is speaking at the
same time, lest you should draw away his hearers. Also, avoid
the first appearance of pride or magnifying yourself. If you
want books, or anything, let me know; I have your happiness
much at heart. During the little time I have to stay on earth,
pray for,
“Your affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[774]
Ezekiel Cooper was the son of an officer in the army of the American
revolution, and was now twenty-eight years of age, and a Methodist
preacher at Annapolis. He was a man of great mental vigour and
versatility, almost unequalled in debate, and was called, by the
American Methodists, _Lycurgus_, in reference to his profound wisdom.
He was a diligent student, and a close observer of men and things,
lived a long life of celibacy, was frugal to a fault, left behind him
an estate of about fifty thousand dollars, and died in 1847, the
oldest Methodist preacher in the world. When he entered the ministry
in 1783, the American Methodists numbered eighty-three preachers, and
fifteen thousand members; when he died, their ministry numbered five
thousand, and their membership above a million.[775] To him Wesley
wrote the last letter which he posted to America.
“NEAR LONDON, _February 1, 1791_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,--Those that desire to write, or to say
anything, to me, have no time to lose, for time has shaken me
by the hand, and death is not far behind. But I have reason to
be thankful for the time that is past. I felt few of the
infirmities of old age, for fourscore and six years. It was not
till a year and a half ago, that my strength and my sight
failed. And still I am enabled to scrawl a little, and to
creep, though I cannot run. Probably I should not be able to do
so much, did not many of you assist me by your prayers.
“I have given a distinct account of the work of God, which has
been wrought in Britain and Ireland, for more than half a
century. We want some of you to give us a connected relation,
of what our Lord has been doing in America, since the time that
Richard Boardman accepted the invitation, and left his country
to serve you. See that you never give place to one thought of
separating from your brethren in Europe. Lose no opportunity of
declaring to all men, that the Methodists are one people in all
the world, and that it is their full determination so to
continue,--
‘Though mountains rise, and oceans roll,
To sever us in vain.’
“To the care of our common Lord I commit you, and am your
affectionate friend and brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[776]
Such was Wesley’s dying legacy to the transatlantic Methodists.
The next is brief, but full of interest. For many years Wesley had
been accustomed to leave London, on, or about, the 1st of March, for
what he was accustomed to call his long journey, to the north, or to
Ireland. Though so aged and feeble, he fully intended to do the same
again; and Henry Moore relates, that, in reference to this, he
actually sent his chaise and his horses before him to Bristol, and
took places for himself and his friends in the Bath coach; but, almost
on the very day when he purposed to begin afresh his “long journey” on
earth, the venerable pilgrim left earth for heaven.
“LONDON, _February 6, 1791_.
“DEAR SIR,--On Wednesday, March 17, I purpose, if God permit,
to come from Gloucester to Worcester; and, on Thursday, the
18th, to Stourport. If our friends at Worcester are displeased,
we cannot help it. Wishing you and yours all happiness,
“I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.”
The letter was addressed to Mr. York, of Stourport; but was not sent.
At the bottom of it is the last line that Wesley ever wrote.
“February 28--This morning I found this in my bureau.”[777]
In a letter, given on page 622, Mr. Thomas Roberts was directed, in an
emergency, to leave Bristol for Haverfordwest circuit. He went, and
had to encounter difficulties. Wesley now wrote to him as follows.
“LONDON, _February 8, 1791_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,--Who was it that opposed your reducing the
preachers, in the circuit, to two? and on what pretence? We
must needs reduce all our expenses everywhere as far as
possible. You must never leave off till you carry this point,
and constitute bands in each large society. When the lecture
begins at Carmarthen, it will then be time enough to prevent
any ill effects of it. I am glad to hear your journey home has
not been in vain. My best wishes attend my friends at Traison
and Langwair.
“I am, dear Tommy, yours, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”
The original, from which this is copied, was written by an amanuensis,
but is signed in Wesley’s own tremulous handwriting.
We have already seen that Adam Clarke had been dangerously ill in
Dublin. In fact, it was reported in England that he was dead; and
William Stevens actually preached his funeral sermon in the isle of
Jersey. He was now slowly recovering, had entered himself a medical
student in Trinity college, Dublin, and had founded a “Strangers’
Friend Society,” like those already instituted in London, and in
Bristol.[778] To him Wesley now addressed the following.
“LONDON, _February 9, 1791_.
“DEAR ADAM,--You have great reason to bless God for giving you
strength according to your day. He has indeed supported you in
an uncommon manner under these complicated afflictions. You may
well say, ‘I will put my trust in Thee as long as I live.’ I
will desire Dr. Whitehead thoroughly to consider your case, and
to give us his thoughts upon it. I am not afraid of your doing
too little, but too much. I am in continual danger of this. Do
little at a time, that you may do the more. My love to sisters
Cookman and Boyle, but it is a doubt with me whether I shall
cross the seas any more.
“What preacher was it who first omitted meeting the select
society? I wonder it did not destroy the work!
“You have done right in setting up the strangers’ society: it
is an excellent institution.
“I am quite at a loss concerning Mr. Maddan; I know not what to
think of him. Send me your best thoughts concerning him.
“Let not the excluded preachers by any means creep in again. In
any wise, write, and send me your thoughts on _animal
magnetism_. I set my face against that device of Satan. Two of
our preachers here are in danger of that satanical delusion;
but, if they persist to defend it, I must drop them. I know its
principles full well.
“With much love to your wife, I am, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[779]
Wesley was quite ready to “cross seas,” as he had already done so
often, in his Master’s service; but he might well doubt his ability.
Exactly three weeks after writing thus to Adam Clarke, he crossed the
dark river of death.
For sixty-five years, Wesley had been an earnest, laborious, self
denying, and unceasing preacher of “the glorious gospel of the blessed
God”; and, notwithstanding his extreme age and feebleness, he
continued in his beloved employ until within seven days of his
decease. The following was his last week of public labour.
On Thursday, February 17, he preached at Lambeth, then a thriving
suburban village, from the text, “Labour not for the meat which
perisheth; but for that which endureth to everlasting life.” Returning
home, he seemed to be unwell, and said he had taken cold.
Friday the 18th, he read and wrote as usual, dined at Mr. Urling’s,
and preached at Chelsea, in the evening, from the words, “The king’s
business requireth haste.” Once or twice he was obliged to stop, and
to tell the people that his cold so affected his voice as to prevent
his speaking without these necessary pauses. He had, as usual,
arranged to meet the classes for the renewal of their tickets; but was
persuaded to leave this part of his work to his companions, James
Rogers, and Joseph Bradford.
Saturday, the 19th, was principally employed in reading and writing.
The following was addressed to Mrs. Susanna Knapp, of Worcester, and
shows his unquenchable Christian ardour.
“LONDON, _February 19, 1791_.
“MY DEAR SUKY,--As the state of my health is exceeding
wavering, and waxes worse, I cannot yet lay down any plans for
my future journeys. Indeed, I propose, if God permit, to set
out for Bristol on the 28th instant; but how much further I
shall be able to go, I cannot yet determine. If I am pretty
well, I hope to be at Worcester about the 22nd of March. To
find you and yours in health of body and mind will be a great
pleasure to,
“My dear Suky, yours affectionately,
“J. WESLEY.” [780]
On the same day, Wesley went out to dinner, at Mrs. Griffith’s,
Islington, and, while there, desired a friend to read to him the
fourth and three following chapters of the book of Job, containing the
speech of Eliphaz, and the answer of Job, and strikingly appropriate
to the case of a dying man. After dinner, he purposed to meet the
penitents at City Road, but was prevailed on to allow Mr. Brackenbury
to take his place.
Next morning (Sunday) he rose, at his usual hour, but was utterly
unfit for the sabbath services. At seven o’clock, he was obliged to
lie down again; and slept for above three hours. In the afternoon, he
had again to go to bed; had another sleep; and then, after two of his
own sermons had been read to him, came downstairs to supper.
On Monday, the 21st, he seemed better, and, despite persuasion, would
fulfil an engagement he had made to dine at Twickenham. His niece,
Miss Sarah Wesley, and Miss Ritchie, went with him. On the way he
called upon Lady Mary Fitzgerald, and conversed and prayed most
sweetly.
Tuesday, the 22nd, he proceeded with his usual work; dined at Mr.
Horton’s, Islington; and preached in City Road chapel, from, “We
through the Spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith.” After
this, he met the leaders.
Wednesday, February 23, he arose at four a.m., as he also did the day
following, and, accompanied by Mr. Rogers, set out to Leatherhead,
eighteen miles from London, to visit a magistrate, in whose dining
room he preached, from “Seek ye the Lord while He may be found; call
upon Him while He is near.” This was Wesley’s last sermon.
Thursday, February 24, he spent with his old friend, Mr. Wolff, at
Balham, where he was cheerful, and seemed nearly as well as
usual.[781]
During the day, he wrote his last letter, which was addressed to
Wilberforce, who had brought before parliament the question, which
Wesley was one of the first to advocate, the abolition of slavery.
“LONDON, _February 24, 1791_.
“MY DEAR SIR,--Unless the Divine Power has raised you up to be
as Athanasius, _contra mundum_, I see not how you can go
through your glorious enterprise, in opposing that execrable
villainy, which is the scandal of religion, of England, and of
human nature. Unless God has raised you up for this very thing,
you will be worn out by the opposition of men and devils; but,
_if God be for you, who can be against you_? Are all of them
together stronger than God? O! ‘_be not weary in well doing_.’
Go on, in the name of God, and in the power of His might, till
even American slavery, the vilest that ever saw the sun, shall
vanish away before it.
“Reading this morning a tract, wrote by a poor African, I was
particularly struck by that circumstance,--that a man who has a
black skin, being wronged or outraged by a white man, can have
no redress; it being a _law_, in our colonies, that the _oath_
of a black, against a white, goes for nothing. What villainy is
this!
“That He who has guided you, from your youth up, may continue
to strengthen you in this and all things, is the prayer of,
dear sir,
“Your affectionate servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.” [782]
Friday, February 25, Mr. Wolff having brought him home, to City Road,
Wesley went upstairs, and requested that, for half an hour, he should
be left alone. When the time expired, faithful Joseph Bradford found
him so unwell, that he sent for Dr. Whitehead. “Doctor,” said the
dying patriarch, “they are more afraid than hurt.”
Saturday, February 26, was principally passed in drowsiness and sleep.
Sunday morning, February 27, he seemed better, got up, sat in his
chair, looked cheerful, and repeated, from one of his brother’s
hymns,--
“Till glad I lay this body down,
Thy servant, Lord, attend!
And oh! my life of mercy crown
With a triumphant end!”
And then, soon after, with marked emphasis, he said, “Our friend
Lazarus sleepeth.” His niece, Miss Wesley, and Miss Ritchie prayed
with him. “When at Bristol,” said he, alluding to his illness there in
1753, “my words were,
‘I the chief of sinners am,
But Jesus died for me!’”
Miss Ritchie asked, “Is that your language now?” “Yes,” said he.
“Christ is all! He is all!” He then dozed, and sometimes wandered;
but, in his wanderings, was always preaching or meeting classes.
On Monday, February 28, his weakness increased. Dr. Whitehead wished
for further assistance. Wesley replied: “Dr. Whitehead knows my
constitution better than any one. I am quite satisfied, and will have
no one else.”[783] Most of the day was spent in sleep. He seldom
spoke; but, once, in a wakeful interval, was heard saying, in a low,
distinct voice, “There is no way into the holiest, but by the blood of
Jesus.” Then referring to the text, “Ye know the grace of our Lord
Jesus Christ, that, though He was rich,” etc., he remarked, with
solemn emphasis, “That is the foundation, the only foundation, there
is no other.” It was now evident to all, that he was beginning to
sleep his last sleep. His friends were intensely anxious and alarmed.
Poor, broken hearted, Joseph Bradford despatched notes to the
preachers, asking their prayers, in the following terms.
“_February 27, 1791._
“DEAR BROTHER,--Mr. Wesley is very ill: pray! pray! pray!
“I am your affectionate brother,
“JOSEPH BRADFORD.”[784]
All was unavailing. Wesley’s work was ended. On Tuesday, March 1,
after a restless night, being asked if he suffered pain, he answered,
“No,” and began singing,--
“All glory to God in the sky,
And peace upon earth be restored!
O Jesus, exalted on high,
Appear our omnipotent Lord.
Who, meanly in Bethlehem born,
Didst stoop to redeem a lost race,
Once more to Thy people return,
And reign in Thy kingdom of grace.
Oh, wouldst Thou again be made known,
Again in the Spirit descend;
And set up in each of Thy own
A kingdom that never shall end!
Thou only art able to bless,
And make the glad nations obey,
And bid the dire enmity cease,
And bow the whole world to Thy sway.”
Here, while breathing faith and universal benevolence, his strength
failed. “I want to write,” said he. A pen was put into his hand, and
paper was placed before him. His hand had forgot its cunning. “I
cannot,” said the dying man. “Let me write for you,” remarked Miss
Ritchie: “tell me what you wish to say.” “Nothing,” he replied, “but
that God is with us.”
“I will get up,” said he; and, while his friends were arranging his
clothes, the happy old man again began singing,--
“I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath;
And, when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne’er be past,
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.
Happy the man whose hopes rely
On Israel’s God; He made the sky,
And earth, and seas, with all their train;
His truth for ever stands secure,
He saves the’ oppressed, He feeds the poor,
And none shall find His promise vain.”
Once more seated in his chair, he, in a weak voice, said: “Lord, Thou
givest strength to those that can speak, and to those that cannot.
Speak, Lord, to all our hearts, and let them know that Thou loosest
tongues.” And again he began to sing, what proved to be his last song
on earth:
“To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Who sweetly all agree.”
But here his voice failed, and, after gasping for breath, he said:
“Now we have done. Let us all go.”
Full of happiness, but utterly exhausted, he was put to bed, where,
after a short but quiet sleep, he opened his eyes, and, addressing the
weeping watchers who stood around him, said, “Pray, and praise!” and,
of course, they at once complied. Then he asked Joseph Bradford about
the key and contents of his bureau, remarking, “I would have all
things ready for my executors. Let me be buried in nothing but what is
woollen, and let my corpse be carried in my coffin into the chapel.”
And then, as if no other earthly matters required his attention, he
again called out, “Pray and praise!” Down fell his friends upon their
knees, and fervent were the dying patriarch’s responses, especially to
John Broadbent’s prayer, that God would still bless the system of
doctrine and discipline, which Wesley had been the means of
establishing. On rising, from prayer, each watcher drew near to the
bed of the expiring saint, and, with affectionate solicitude, awaited
the coming of the shining ones to conduct him home. With the utmost
placidity, he saluted each one present, shook hands, and said,
“Farewell! farewell!”
Conflict there was none. The scene was the peaceful setting of a
glorious sun, undisturbed by the slightest soughing wind, undimmed by
the smallest intervening cloud.
He tried to speak; but his friends found it difficult to make out what
he meant, except that he wished his sermon on “The Love of God to
Fallen Man,” founded on the text, “Not as the offence, so also is the
free gift,” to be “scattered abroad, and given to everybody.”[785]
Seeing that those around him were at a loss to understand what he
tried to say, the grand old Christian gladiator paused; and,
summoning, for a final effort, all the little strength he had
remaining, he exclaimed, in a tone well-nigh supernatural, “The best
of all is, God is with us!” And then, after another pause, and while
lifting his arm in grateful triumph, he emphatically reiterated, “The
best of all is, God is with us!”
Nature was once more exhausted. Some one wetted his parched lips. “It
will not do,” said he; “we must take the consequence. Never mind the
poor carcase.”
James Rogers and Thomas Rankin were standing by his bed; but his sight
was so nearly gone, that he was unable to recognise their features.
“Who are these?” he asked. “Sir,” said Mr. Rogers, “we are come to
rejoice with you; you are going to receive your crown.” “It is the
Lord’s doing,” replied Wesley, “and it is marvellous in our eyes.”
Being told that his brother’s widow had come to see him, he thanked
her, affectionately endeavoured to kiss her, and remarked, “He giveth
His servants rest.” She wet his lips; on which he repeated his
constant thanksgiving after meals: “We thank Thee, O Lord, for these
and all Thy mercies. Bless the Church and king, and grant us truth and
peace, through Jesus Christ our Lord, for ever and ever!” Then,
pausing a little, he cried, “The clouds drop fatness.” After another
pause, “The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge!
Pray and praise!” And again his friends fell upon their knees.
During the night, he scores of times repeated the words, “I’ll praise.
I’ll praise!” but could say nothing more. Next morning, Wednesday,
March 2, Joseph Bradford prayed with him. It was a few minutes before
ten o’clock. Around the bed there knelt his niece, Miss Sarah Wesley;
one of his executors, Mr. Horton; his medical attendant, Dr.
Whitehead; his book steward, George Whitfield; the present occupants
of his house, James and Hester Ann Rogers, and their little boy; and
his friends and visitors, Robert Carr Brackenbury, and Elizabeth
Ritchie,--eleven persons altogether. Bradford, so long Wesley’s
faithful friend and travelling companion, was the mouthpiece of the
other ten. “Farewell!” cried Wesley,--the last word he uttered; and
then, as Joseph Bradford was saying, “Lift up your heads, O ye gates;
and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and this heir of glory shall
come in!” Wesley gathered up his feet in the presence of his brethren;
and, without a groan and without a sigh, was gone. He died about ten
o’clock a.m., on Wednesday, March 2, 1791.[786]
What followed? “Children!” said John Wesley’s mother, “as soon as I am
dead, sing a song of praise!” As soon as Wesley himself died, his
friends, standing about his corpse, sang:
“Waiting to receive thy spirit,
Lo! the Saviour stands above;
Shows the purchase of His merit,
Reaches out the crown of love.”
And then they knelt down, and prayed, that the mantle of the ascended
Elijah might rest upon his followers.[787]
Wesley’s remains were interred, behind the chapel in City Road, on the
9th of March. Such was the excitement created by his death, that,
within twelve hours only before the funeral took place, it was
determined, in order to prevent the assembling of an inconvenient
crowd, that the funereal solemnities should be performed at the early
hour of five a.m. The notice to his friends was short; but hundreds
attended; and to each one was given a biscuit, in an envelope,
engraven with a beautifully executed portrait of the departed, dressed
in canonicals, surmounted by a halo and a crown.
Much remains unsaid; but our space is gone. Whilst the present pages
are passing through the press, we learn, that “a most eligible site,
in Westminster Abbey, has been courteously offered,” by the dean of
that noble edifice, for the erection of a “public monument” to Wesley
and his brother Charles; and that arrangements are being made to
secure the services of “a first class sculptor,” at the cost of about
£800. Thus the wheel turns round. One hundred and thirty years ago,
Wesley was shut out of every church in England; now marble medallion
profiles of himself and his brother, accompanied with suitable
inscriptions, are deemed deserving of a niche in England’s grandest
cathedral. The man who, a century since, was the best abused man in
the British isles, is now hardly ever mentioned but with affectionate
respect. In the literature of the age; in its lectures and debates; in
chapels and in churches; in synods, congresses, and all sorts of
conferences; by the highest lords and the most illustrious commoners,
the once persecuted Methodist is now extolled; and the judgment of
Southey, in a letter to Wilberforce, is tacitly confirmed: “I consider
Wesley as the most influential mind of the last century,--the man who
will have produced the greatest effects, centuries, or perhaps
millenniums hence, if the present race of men should continue so
long.”
In person, Wesley was rather below the middle size, but beautifully
proportioned, without an atom of superfluous flesh, yet muscular and
strong; with a forehead clear and smooth, a bright, penetrating eye,
and a lovely face, which retained the freshness of its complexion to
the latest period of his life.
In _general_ scholarship and knowledge, he had few superiors; whilst
such was his acquaintance with the New Testament, that, when at a loss
to repeat a text in the words of the authorised translation, he was
never at a loss to quote it in the original Greek.
As an author, the chief characteristics of his style are brevity,
perspicuity, and strength. He abhorred verboseness, and constantly
endeavoured to say everything in the fewest words possible. “I never
think,” said he, “of my style at all, but just set down the words that
come first. Only when I transcribe anything for the press, then I
think it my duty to see that every phrase be _clear_, _pure_,
_proper_, and _easy_. Conciseness, which is now as it were natural to
me, brings _quantum sufficit_ of strength.” Not for want of genius,
but for want of time, and for want of disposition to make it
otherwise, his style is one of naked and self dependent strength,
unaccompanied with gaudy colouring, and equally undiluted with the
pretentious puerilities of weak and little minds. It is impossible to
abridge his writings without omitting thoughts as well as words. Who
can abridge Euclid’s Elements without maiming them? And who can take
from the works of Wesley without reducing their specific gravity?
In the pulpit, Wesley’s attitude was graceful and easy; his action
calm, natural, pleasing, and expressive; and his voice, not loud, but
clear and manly. Whitefield was the greater orator; Wesley the better
divine. Wesley’s preaching was without Whitefield’s Demosthenic
eloquence; but it had the accuracy of a scholar, the authority of an
ambassador, the unction of a saint, the power of God. It was always
searching; but not often terrible and severe, except when addressed to
congregations rich, respectable, and polite. “Sir,” said a friend to
him, after he had preached to a genteel audience from the words, “Ye
serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of
hell?” “Sir,” said Wesley’s offended hearer, “such a sermon would have
been suitable in Billingsgate; but it was highly improper here”; to
whom Wesley quietly, but significantly, remarked: “If I had been in
Billingsgate, my text should have been, ‘Behold the Lamb of God, which
taketh away the sin of the world.’” The poor need to be told the
terribleness of their danger, and the rich more; but, unfortunately,
the poor hear most of this, and the rich least. Wesley was a faithful
minister to both.
In social life, Wesley was a Christian gentleman, and, with perfect
ease, accommodated himself to both the high and low, the rich and
poor. Placid, benevolent, and full of anecdote, wit, and wisdom, his
conversation was not often equalled; and was generally concluded with
two or three verses of a hymn, applicable to what had just been
spoken. Though never trifling, he was always cheerful; sometimes
saying, “I dare no more _fret_ than _curse_ or _swear_.” His
sprightliness among his friends never left him; but was as conspicuous
at eighty-seven as at seventeen. He was at home in mansions, and
equally in cottages; courteous to all, and especially to the young,
often remarking, “I reverence the young, because they may be useful
after I am dead.”
Of his piety nothing need be said. “His modesty,” writes Bradburn,
“prevented him saying much concerning his own religious feelings. In
public, he hardly ever spoke of the state of his own soul; but, in
1781, he told me that his experience might almost at any time be
expressed in the following lines:
‘O Thou, who camest from above,
The pure celestial fire to’ impart,
Kindle a flame of sacred love
On the mean altar of my heart!
There let it for Thy glory burn,
With inextinguishable blaze,
And trembling to its source return,
In humble love and fervent praise!’”
His industry is almost without a parallel. In many things, he was
gentle and easy to be entreated; but, in his earnestness in redeeming
time, he was decisive and inexorable. While kept waiting for his
carriage, on one occasion, he passionately exclaimed, “I have lost ten
minutes for ever!” “You have no need to be in a hurry!” said a friend:
“Hurry,” he replied, “I have no time to be in a hurry.” It has been
calculated, that, during the fifty years of his itinerant ministry, he
travelled a quarter of a million of miles, and preached more than
forty thousand sermons. In these volumes, we have seen him rising with
the lark, travelling with the sun, preaching throughout the three
kingdoms, and always acting in harmony with his own well known
utterance, “The world is my parish!” Looking at his travelling, the
marvel is how he found time to write; and, looking at his books, the
marvel is how he found time to preach. His hands were always full; but
his action was never fluttered. He was always moving, and yet, in the
midst of his ceaseless toils, betraying no more bustle than a planet
in its course. His mission was too great to allow time for trifles.
Was Wesley without faults? Not so; no man but “_the Man Christ Jesus_”
ever was. Wesley, for instance, was naturally irritable; but even that
was better than being apathetic. “Tommy,” said Wesley once, “touch
that!” pointing to a dock. The itinerant did so. “Do you feel
anything?” asked Wesley. “No,” replied his friend. “Touch that!”
continued Wesley, pointing to a nettle. His companion obeyed, and, in
consequence, was stung. “Now, Tommy,” remarked Wesley, “some men are
like docks; say what you will to them, they are stupid and insensible.
Others are like nettles; touch them, and they resent it. Tommy, you
are a nettle; and, for my part, I would rather have to do with a
nettle than a dock.”
Numberless instances of Wesley’s wit and repartee might easily be
given. “Stop that man from speaking!” exclaimed Charles Wesley at one
of the early conferences, when a preacher rose up, and, full of the
love of Christ and irrepressible emotion, began to relate his
religious experience. “Stop that man from speaking!” said Charles;
“let us attend to business!” but still the good man proceeded. “Unless
he stops, I’ll leave the conference,” continued Charles. Wesley
himself, revelling in the itinerant’s religious recital, effectually
cooled the warmth of his brother’s temper by quietly remarking, “Reach
him his hat!”
On another occasion, when about to dine with a rich Methodist, one of
his preachers, who was present, with more piety than politeness, cried
out: “O sir, what a sumptuous dinner! Things are very different to
what they were formerly! There is now but little self denial amongst
the Methodists!” Wesley pointed to the abundantly furnished table, and
then silenced the preacher’s untimely eloquence by saying, “My
brother, there is a fine opportunity for self denial now.”
Thus was Wesley always “instant in season, and out of season.” Always
and everywhere he was ready to turn passing incidents to practical
account. “Pray, sir, let us go,” said one of his friends, whilst two
women, near Billingsgate market, were quarrelling most furiously, and
using language far more forceful than pious: “Pray, sir, let us go; I
cannot stand it.” “Stay, Sammy,” replied Wesley, as he looked at the
viragoes, who were evidently _inspired_, though not from heaven.
“Stay, Sammy,” answered the man who had eyes for everything; “stay,
and learn how to preach!”
We must close. Taking him altogether, Wesley is a man _sui generis_.
He stands alone: he has had no successor; no one like him went before;
no contemporary was a coequal. There was a wholeness about the man,
such as is rarely seen. His physique, his genius, his wit, his
penetration, his judgment, his memory, his beneficence, his religion,
his diligence, his conversation, his courteousness, his manners, and
his dress,--made him as perfect as we ever expect man to be on this
side heaven. “A greater poet may rise than Homer or Milton,” writes
Dr. Dobbin, “a greater theologian than Calvin, a greater philosopher
than Bacon, a greater dramatist than any of ancient or modern fame;
but a more distinguished revivalist of the churches than John Wesley,
never.” “He was a man,” says Lord Macaulay, “whose eloquence and
logical acuteness might have rendered him eminent in literature; whose
genius for government was not inferior to that of Richelieu; and who
devoted all his powers, in defiance of obloquy and derision, to what
he sincerely considered the highest good of his species.”
But, in the case of a man like Wesley, panegyric is out of place. He
is one of the very few, whose memory can afford to do without it. His
well won and world wide fame requires no inscription on his monumental
marble,--whether in England or in America, in Westminster or in
Washington,--more elaborate than this:
JOHN WESLEY,
Born, A.D. 1703.
Died, A.D. 1791.