1748.
[Sidenote: 1748 Age 45]
Wesley writes: “January 1, 1748.—We began the year at four in the
morning, with joy and thanksgiving. The same spirit was in the midst of
us, both at noon and in the evening.”
On January 25, he set out for Bristol, and at Longbridge-Deverill,
three miles from Warminster, by being thrown from his horse, had a
narrow escape from an untimely death. These dangers and escapes were
numerous and remarkable. Near Shepton-Mallet, while descending a
steep bank, he had another accident of a similar kind to the former,
his horse and himself tumbling one over the other, and imperilling
the lives of both. And, a few weeks later, when in Ireland, his
horse became restive and “fell head over heels.” With almost literal
exactness might Wesley have made the apostle’s language his own: “In
journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils
by countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in
perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false
brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger
and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness; besides those
things that are without, that which cometh upon us daily, the care of
all the churches.”
The chapel at Bristol, though built only nine years ago, was in great
danger of falling upon the people’s heads; and, moreover, it was now
too small to accommodate the congregation attending. Accordingly,
Wesley took instant steps to repair and to enlarge the building, and
obtained a subscription of £230, towards defraying the expense.
While here, he also made a visit to Shepton-Mallet, where a hired and
drunken mob pelted him and his companion, Robert Swindells, with “dirt,
stones, and clods in abundance”; broke the windows of the house in
which they were staying, took it by storm, and threatened to make it a
heap of burning ruins.
Still, the Methodist revival spread. Writing to his friend Blackwell,
under the date of February 2, Wesley says:—“Both in Ireland, and in
many parts of England, the work of our Lord increases daily. At Leeds
only, the society, from a hundred and eighty, is increased to above
five hundred persons.”[1]
Charles Wesley and Charles Perronet had been in Ireland for the last
six months, and, on the Moravians being ejected from the chapel in
Skinner’s Alley, had become the tenants of that building. They had made
an excursion to Tyrrell’s Pass, and, from among proverbial swearers,
drunkards, thieves, and sabbath breakers, had formed a society of
nearly one hundred persons. At Athlone, a gang of ruffians knocked
Jonathan Healey off his horse, beat him with a club, and were about to
murder him with a knife, when a poor woman, from her hut, came to his
assistance, and, for her interference, was half killed with a blow from
a heavy whip. The hedges were all lined with papists; the dragoons came
out, the mob fled, Healey was rescued, and was taken into the woman’s
cabin, where Charles Wesley found him in his blood, and attended to his
wounds. A congregation of above two thousand assembled in the market;
Charles Wesley preached to them from the window of a ruined house;
and then the knot of brave-hearted Methodists marched to the field of
battle, stained with Healey’s blood, and sang a song of triumph and of
praise to God.
Having completed his business at Bristol, Wesley, on the 15th of
February, started for Ireland, but the weather was such, that three
weeks elapsed before he was able to set sail from Holyhead. Winds
were boisterous, and snow lay thick upon the ground; but, on the way,
besides preaching in churches, chapels, and roadside inns, Wesley,
at Builth and other places, took his stand in the open air, immense
congregations making surrounding woods and mountains echo, as they
sung:—
“Ye mountains and vales, In praises abound;
Ye hills and ye dales, Continue the sound;
Break forth into singing, Ye trees of the wood,
For Jesus is bringing Lost sinners to God.”
Attending a service in the Welsh language, he wrote: “What a curse
was the confusion of tongues! and how grievous are the effects of it!
All the birds of the air, all the beasts of the field, understand
the language of their own species. Man only is a _barbarian_ to man,
unintelligible to his own brethren!”
At length, Wesley, accompanied by Robert Swindells and the Rev. Mr.
Meriton, set sail, and, on March 8, arrived in Dublin, where they found
Charles Wesley meeting the society, the members of which made so much
noise in shouting, and in praising God, that, for a time, Wesley was
unable to obtain a hearing.
Charles returned to England. Wesley spent the next ten weeks in
Ireland. These were long absences, to which the leaders in London
objected; but Wesley’s almost prophetic answer was, “Have patience, and
Ireland will repay you.”[2]
Wesley’s first business was to begin preaching at five o’clock in the
morning, “an unheard of thing in Ireland”; his next, to inquire into
the state of the Dublin society. He writes: “Most pompous accounts had
been sent me, from time to time, of the great numbers added; so that
I confidently expected to find six or seven hundred members. And how
is the real fact? I left three hundred and ninety-four members; and I
doubt if there are now three hundred and ninety-six.” This seems to
be a reflection on his brother; but was there not a cause? Ten days
later, he remarks: “I finished the classes, and found them just as I
expected. I left three hundred and ninety-four persons united together
in August; I had now admitted between twenty and thirty, who had
offered themselves since my return to Dublin; and the whole number is
neither more nor less than three hundred and ninety-six.” He adds: “Let
this be a warning to us all, how we give in to that hateful custom of
painting things beyond the life. Let us make a conscience of magnifying
or exaggerating anything. Let us rather speak under, than above, the
truth. We, of all men, should be punctual in all we say, that none of
our words may fall to the ground.”
At Philip’s Town, “a poor, dry, barren place,” he found a society,
of whom forty were troopers.[3] At Tullamore, he preached to most of
the inhabitants of the town; and at Clara, to “a vast number of well
behaved people, some of whom came in their coaches, and were of the
best quality in the country.” At Athlone, he writes: “Almost all the
town appeared to be moved, full of good will and desires of salvation;
but I found not one under any strong conviction, much less had any one
attained the knowledge of salvation, in hearing above thirty sermons.”
At Birr, he preached “in the street, to a dull, rude, senseless
multitude.” A Carmelite friar cried out, “You lie! you lie!” but the
protestants present cried, “Knock the friar down”; and Wesley adds, “it
was no sooner said than done.”
At Aughrim, he heard “a warm sermon against enthusiasts”; and, to the
same congregation, preached another as an antidote. Mr. Simpson, a
magistrate, invited him to dinner; and he, and his wife and daughter,
were the first at Aughrim to join the Methodists.[4]
These and other places were soon formed into a circuit, extending on
the Leinster side as far as Tyrrell’s Pass and Mountmellick, and on
the Connaught side as far as Ballinrobe, Castlebar, and Sligo, the
quarterly meetings being held at Coolylough, the residence of Mr.
Handy, where hospitable entertainment was abundantly provided, and many
a season of spiritual refreshing was religiously enjoyed.[5]
In Dublin, the Methodists had two meeting-houses, one in Dolphin Barn
Lane, and the other in Skinner’s Alley; but they were both rented, and
therefore of uncertain tenure. Wesley was not satisfied with this, and
used his utmost endeavours to obtain a freehold site, for the erection
of a chapel of his own. On the 15th of March, he wrote to Ebenezer
Blackwell as follows: “We have not found a place yet that will suit us
for building. Several we have heard of, and seen some; but they are
all leasehold land, and I am determined to have freehold, if it is to
be had in Dublin; otherwise we must lie at the mercy of our landlord
whenever the lease is to be renewed.”[6]
Some time after, the freehold site was obtained, and, with Mr. Lunell’s
munificent assistance, the first Methodist meeting-house in Dublin was
erected in Whitefriar Street, and was opened for public worship in 1752.
Wesley returned to England at the end of the month of May, and on the
2nd of June, and three or four, following days, held, in London, his
annual conference. The number present was twenty-three, including about
half-a-dozen clergymen, three stewards, some local preachers, and Howel
Harris.
At the opening of the conference, it was agreed that there would be no
time to consider points of doctrine, and therefore that the attention
of those present should be wholly confined to discipline.
The principle was reiterated, that, wherever they preached, they should
form societies. They were to visit the poor members of society as
much as the rich. Every alternate society-meeting in London, Bristol,
Kingswood, and Newcastle, was to be kept inviolably private. At the
other meetings strangers might be admitted with caution. It was
thought, that they were in danger of making too long prayers, and it
was agreed that, though exceptional cases must arise, yet, in general,
they would do well not to pray in public above eight or ten minutes
at a time. Directions were given to the assistants to guard against
jealousy and envy, and against despising each other’s gifts. They were
to try to avoid popularity, that is, “the gaining a greater degree of
esteem or love from the people than is for the glory of God.” They were
to examine the leaders of classes, and were to send to the Wesleys a
circumstantial account of every remarkable conversion, and of every
triumphant death. Assisted by the stewards, they were, every Easter, to
make exact lists of all the members in each of the nine circuits into
which the societies were divided, and to send the lists to the ensuing
conference.[7]
In addition to these matters, there was another debated, of great
interest and importance. Five years before, Wesley had published his
“Thoughts on Marriage and Celibacy,” in which, to say the least, he
strongly commended a single life. His brother Charles was now courting
Miss Sarah Gwynne, and wished to marry her. Charles writes:—“How know
I, whether it be best for me to marry, or no? Certainly better now
than later; and, if not now, what security that I shall not then? It
should be now, or not at all.” This was sound sense. Charles was now
forty years old, and, like a wise man, he concluded, that he must
either marry now, or never. Before he left Ireland, he communicated
his intentions to his brother; and, in the month of April, he rode to
Shoreham, and “told all his heart” to Vincent Perronet.[8] Difficulties
existed. Among others, there was his brother’s tract. The Conference
of 1747 had agreed to read all the tracts which had been published,
and to make a note of everything that was thought objectionable. The
Conference of 1748 was about to meet, and, of course, had a perfect
right to review and to revise the “Thoughts on Marriage.” The question
was introduced, and the result of the discussion upon Wesley’s mind may
be found in the following sentence from a manuscript in the British
Museum, which, though not written by Wesley, was corrected by him. “In
June, 1748, we had a conference in London. Several of our brethren then
objected to the ‘Thoughts on Marriage’; and, in a full and friendly
debate, convinced me, that a believer might marry without suffering
loss in his soul.” This was a great point gained. Charles’s courtship
proceeded; and, in April, 1749, John writes: “Saturday, April 8.—I
married my brother and Sarah Gwynne. It was a solemn day, such as
became the dignity of a Christian marriage.” A stranger said, it looked
more like a funeral than a wedding; but Charles remarks, “We were
cheerful without mirth, serious without sadness; and my brother seemed
the happiest person among us.”[9]
A few days after the conference was closed, Wesley and his brother
proceeded to Bristol for the purpose of opening Kingswood school.
Kingswood school! a sacred spot, surrounded with unequalled Methodistic
memories; once one of the homes of the Wesleys and their friends; the
place of not a few remarkable revivals of religion; an academic grove,
whose scenery was at first beautiful and inviting, and from which
have issued many of the most distinguished ministers that Methodism
has ever had, and not a few highly accomplished scholars, whose names
stand honourably associated with the legal and other high professions,
and with England’s chief seats of learning; an upretending edifice,
with associations to which no other Methodist building (except the
Broadmead meeting-house in Bristol) can make pretensions; for above
half a century Methodism’s only college; to the end of life one of
Wesley’s favourite haunts; the _alma mater_ of scores still living, who
will always love its memory; a homestead in which Methodism lingered
perhaps as long as was expedient; and which, when Methodism left it,
in 1852, became a place of discipline for young thieves and vagabonds,
a reformatory for youthful criminals, whose presence in public society
was a nuisance and a curse, and yet whose minds and morals were most
likely to be improved, not in a prison, but in a school.
We have already seen, that Wesley built a school at Kingswood in 1740.
Myles, in his Chronological History, says, that the school opened in
1748 was the old school “enlarged;”[10] and that, though the school
commenced in 1740 was intended for the children of colliers, yet, for
some years, several of the Methodists in other places had sent their
children to be educated here.[11]
This was an encroachment upon Wesley’s original design, but one which
he had no disposition to resist. Besides this, he found it necessary to
make some provision for the education of the children of his preachers.
Their fathers were almost constantly from home. Their mothers, in many
cases, were unequal to their management. Funds did not exist to send
them to a boarding school. And hence Wesley found it imperative to
provide a school himself.
To meet this necessity, he “enlarged” the existing school at Kingswood,
an unknown lady giving him £800 towards defraying the expenses.[12] The
school for the children of the colliers was not closed. It continued to
exist for more than sixty years subsequent to the period of which we
are writing, and was supported by the subscriptions of the Kingswood
society.[13] But now, in 1748, another school, for another class of
children, was attached to this, and really became _the Kingswood
school_, so famed in Methodistic annals, and whose memory will last as
long as Methodism lasts.
Wesley selected Kingswood for his school because “it was private,
remote from all high roads, on a small hill sloping to the west,
sheltered from the east and north, and affording room for large
gardens.” He made it capable of accommodating fifty children, besides
masters and servants; reserving one room and a small study for
himself.[14] On the front of the building was placed a tablet, with
the inscription, “In Gloriam Dei Optimi Maximi, in Usum Ecclesiæ et
Reipublicæ”; and under this, “Jehovah Jireh,” in Hebrew characters.[15]
The great defect of the situation was the want of water. Vincent
Perronet, in a letter to Walter Sellon, in 1752, writes: “My dear
brother John Wesley wonders at the bad taste of those, who seem not to
be in raptures with Kingswood school. If there was no other objection,
but the want of good water upon the spot, this would be insuperable to
all wise men, except himself and his brother Charles.”[16] For more
than a hundred years, this was a radical defect, and was one of the
chief reasons which induced the Conference to remove the school to
another place in 1852.
It has been already stated, that the school was designed not only for
the sons of preachers, but for the children of those Methodists who
were able and wishful to give their offspring an education, superior
to that imparted in the villages or towns in which they respectively
resided. If it be asked, why Wesley did not advise such Methodists
to send their children to the boarding schools then existing? the
answer is—1. Because most of these schools were in large towns, to
which he greatly objected. 2. Because all sorts of children, religious
and irreligious, were admitted. 3. Because, in many instances, the
masters were regardless of the principles and practice of Christianity,
and were utterly indifferent whether their scholars were papists or
protestants, Turks or Christians. 4. Because, in most of the great
schools, the education given was exceedingly defective, and the class
books were imperfect in style and sense, and, in some cases, absolutely
profane and polluting.[17]
For such reasons, Wesley opened his new school in Kingswood, on the
24th of June, 1748, by preaching on the text, “Train up a child,” etc.;
after which he and his brother administered the sacrament to the crowd
who had come from distant places; and then drew up the scholastic
rules, which were published soon after.
The object of the school was “to train up children in every branch of
useful learning.” None but boarders were to be admitted, and “these
were to be taken in, between the years of six and twelve, in order
to be taught reading, writing, arithmetic, English, French, Latin,
Greek, Hebrew, history, geography, chronology, rhetoric, logic, ethics,
geometry, algebra, physics, and music.” They were all to “be brought
up in the fear of God; and at the utmost distance, as from vice in
general, so in particular from idleness and effeminacy.” Wesley adds:
“The children of _tender_ parents, so called (who are indeed offering
up their sons and their daughters unto devils), have no business here;
for the rules will not be broken, in favour of any person whatsoever.
Nor is any child received unless his parents agree that he shall
observe all the rules of the house; and that they will not take him
from school, no, not a day, till they take him for good and all.”
Wesley’s design, in founding the school, was, in the highest
degree, benevolent and pure; but some of his rules were as absurd
as inexperienced philosophy could make them. The diet, consisting
of bacon, beef, and mutton, bread and butter, greens, water gruel,
and apple dumplings, was unexceptionable. Going to bed at eight, and
sleeping on mattresses, were also commendable arrangements. But what
can be said of the rule, that every child was to rise, the year round,
at four o’clock, and spend the time till five in private, reading,
singing, meditating, and praying? Who will defend the rule, that no
play days were to be permitted, and no time allowed, on any day, for
play, on the ground that he who plays when he is a child will play
when he becomes a man? What again about the rule, that every child, if
healthy, should fast every Friday till three o’clock in the afternoon?
No wonder that Wesley complains of his rules being habitually
broken. With such a programme, the school became to him a source of
inexpressible annoyance. Children were removed by their parents,
and some were dismissed as incorrigible. Enforced religion created
a disgust for it, and this imperious way of making saints, in some
instances, made the children hypocrites.
At five every morning, they attended public religious service, and
again at seven every night. At six, they breakfasted; at seven, school
began; at eleven, they walked or worked; at twelve, they dined, and
then worked in the garden or sang till one; from one till five, they
were again in school; from five to six, was their hour for private
prayer; and from six to seven, they again walked or worked; when they
all had supper on bread and butter, and milk by turns; and at eight,
marched off to bed. On Sundays, they dressed and breakfasted at six;
at seven, learnt hymns or poems; at eight, attended public service;
at nine, went to the parish church; at one, dined and sang; at two,
attended public service; and at four, were privately instructed. Six
masters were employed; one for teaching French, two for reading and
writing, and three for the ancient languages. The charge for each boy’s
board and education, including books, pens, ink, and paper, was £14
a year.[18] Walter Sellon, John Jones, and James Roquet, all of whom
obtained ordination in the Established Church, together with Richard
Moss, Monsieur Grou, and William Spencer were the first batch of
masters.[19]
Does history record a school parallel to Wesley’s school at Kingswood?
We doubt it. It will often require notice in succeeding chapters; but
suffice it to add here, that, for a few months at least, the school was
worked to Wesley’s satisfaction. In August, several of the boys were
converted;[20] and in October, the housekeeper, in a letter to Wesley,
wrote:—“The spirit of this family is a resemblance of the household
above. They are given up to God, and pursue but the one great end. If
any is afraid this school will eclipse others, or that it will train up
soldiers to proclaim open war against the god of this world, I believe
it is not a groundless fear. If God continue to bless us, one of these
little ones shall chase a thousand. I doubt not but, from this obscure
spot, there will arise ambassadors for the King of kings.”[21]
On June 27, three days after the opening of Kingswood school, Wesley
set out for the north of England. On his way, he preached at Wallbridge
“to a lively congregation”; and at Stanley, “in farmer Finch’s
orchard.” He spent two days at dear old Epworth; preached four times;
heard Mr. Romley, whose “smooth, tuneful voice,” so often used in
blaspheming the work of God, was now nearly lost; and received the
sacrament from Mr. Hay, the rector. The Methodist society, though not
large, had been useful, and sabbath breaking and drunkenness, cursing
and swearing, were hardly known. At Hainton, “chiefly owing to the
miserable diligence of the poor rector,” the congregation was small.
At Coningsby, he preached to one of the largest congregations he had
seen in Lincolnshire, and disputed, for an hour and a half, with a
Baptist minister upon baptism. At Grimsby, the congregation not only
filled the room, but the stairs and adjoining rooms, and many stood in
the street below, notwithstanding Mr. Prince had bitterly cursed the
poor Methodists in the name of the Lord. At Laseby, he had “a small,
earnest congregation”; and, at Crowle, a wilder one than he had lately
seen. Thus preaching at almost every place where he halted, he reached
Newcastle on Saturday, July 9.
Here, and in all the country societies round about, he found an
increase of members, and more of the life and power of religion among
them, than he had ever found before. The boundaries of the Newcastle
circuit were,—Allandale on the west, Sunderland on the east, Berwick
on the north, and Osmotherley on the south,[22]—an immense tract of
country, situated in, at least, four different counties. This Wesley
traversed, preaching, visiting classes, and founding societies.
Having spent more than five weeks among these northern Methodists,
Wesley, on the 16th of August, started southwards, taking Grace
Murray with him, to whom he had proposed marriage. During the first
day’s journey, he preached at Stockton, near the market place, “to a
very large and very rude congregation;” again in the market place at
Yarm; and again, in the midst of a continuous rain, in the street at
Osmotherley.
Proceeding to Wakefield, he became the guest of Francis Scott, a local
preacher, part of whose joiner’s shop was used as a preaching room.[23]
Thence he went to Halifax, where he attempted to preach at the market
cross to “an immense number of people, roaring like the waves of the
sea.” A man threw money among the crowd, creating great disturbance.
Wesley was besmeared with dirt, and had his cheek laid open by a stone.
Finding it impossible to make himself heard, he adjourned to a meadow
near Salterhebble, and spent an hour with those that followed him “in
rejoicing and praising God.”[24] He then went to Bradford, where the
only person who misbehaved was the parish curate.
At Haworth, even at five o’clock in the morning, the church was nearly
filled. Grimshaw read prayers, and Wesley preached. A Methodist
society was already formed, as appears from the following item in the
Haworth society book:—“1748, Jan. 10: A pair of boots for William
Darney, 14_s._ 0_d._”[25] Grimshaw was now as much a Methodist as
Wesley was, with this difference, the former had a church, the latter
not.
For six years, Grimshaw had been incumbent of Haworth. His church was
crowded, and no wonder. In the surrounding hamlets, he was accustomed
to preach from twelve to thirty sermons weekly. His congregations were
rude and rough; but they caught the fervour of his spirit, and hundreds
of his hearers were converted. He loved labour, and, for his Master’s
sake, cheerfully encountered hard living. One day he would be the guest
of Lady Huntingdon; at another time, he would be found sleeping in his
own hayloft, simply to find room for strangers in his parsonage. In all
sorts of weather, upon the bleak mountains, often drenched by rain,
or benumbed by frost, with no regular meals, and frequently nothing
better than a crust, he never wearied in his evangelistic wanderings,
but pursued his onward course with a blithesome spirit, singing praises
to his Divine Redeemer. His dress was plain, and sometimes shabby.
Often he had literally only one coat and one pair of shoes, not from
affectation, or eccentricity, but from a benevolent desire to benefit
the poor. Possessed of strong mental power, and with a Cambridge
education, he was capable of rising above the rank of ordinary
preachers; but, to accommodate himself to his rustic hearers, there
was a homeliness in his forms of speech, which was sometimes scarcely
dignified. He preached in the same style as that in which Albert
Durer painted. His power in prayer was marvellous. “He was like a man
with his feet on earth and his soul in heaven.” As one of Wesley’s
“assistants,” he visited classes, gave tickets, held lovefeasts,
attended quarterly meetings, entertained the “itinerants,” and let
them preach in the kitchen of his parsonage. He was oft eccentric, but
always honest, earnest, and devout. Strong of frame, and robust in
health, his study was under the wide canopy of heaven, among hills and
dales; and the weariness of his wanderings was relieved by Divinely
imparted thoughts, and communings with his God. He died April 7, 1763;
some of his last words being, “I am as happy as I can be on earth, and
as sure of heaven as if I was in it.” He was a rare man; and in him was
fully exemplified his favourite motto, which was inscribed upon his
coffin, “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”
In the same neighbourhood was another man, who, though not so eminent,
deserves honourable mention,—Thomas Colbeck, of Keighley, now
twenty-five years of age, long a faithful and laborious local preacher,
and whose memory is still precious among the west Yorkshire mountains.
He was one of Grimshaw’s faithful travelling companions; and, by
his instrumentality, Methodism was introduced into not a few of the
villages in the neighbourhood where he lived. His house was Wesley’s
home, and the resting place of Wesley’s itinerants. While praying with
a person afflicted with a fever he caught the infection, and died on
November 5, 1779.[26]
On leaving Haworth, Wesley proceeded to Roughlee, a village in the
vicinity of Colne, Grimshaw and Colbeck going with him. While Wesley
was preaching, a drunken rabble came, with clubs and staves, led on
by a deputy constable, who said he was come for the purpose of taking
Wesley to a justice of the peace at Barrowford. Wesley went with him.
On the way a miscreant struck him in the face; another threw a stick at
his head; and a third cursed and swore, and flourished his club about
Wesley’s person as if he meant to murder him. On reaching the public
house, where his worship was waiting, he was required to promise not
to come to Roughlee again. He answered, he would sooner cut off his
head than make such a promise. For above two hours, he was detained
in the magisterial presence; but, at length, he was allowed to leave.
The deputy constable went with him. The mob followed with oaths,
curses, and stones. Wesley was beaten to the ground, and was forced
back into the house. Grimshaw and Colbeck were used with the utmost
violence, and covered with all kinds of sludge. Mr. Mackford, who
had come with Wesley from Newcastle, was dragged by the hair of his
head, and sustained injuries from which he never fully recovered. Some
of the Methodists, who were present, were beaten with clubs; others
were trampled in the mire; one was forced to leap from a rock ten or
twelve feet high, into the river; and others had to run for their
lives, amidst all sorts of missiles thrown after them. The magistrate
saw all this; and, so far from attempting to hinder it, seemed well
pleased with the murderous proceedings. Next day Wesley wrote him as
follows:—“All this time you were talking of justice and law! Alas,
sir, suppose we were Dissenters (which I deny), suppose we were Jews
or Turks, are we not to have the benefit of the laws of our country!
Proceed against us by the law, if you can or dare; but not by lawless
violence; not by making a drunken, cursing, swearing, riotous mob, both
judge, jury, and executioner. This is flat rebellion against God and
the king, as you may possibly find to your cost.”
This horrible outrage was chiefly fomented by a popish renegado, who
was now the curate of Colne. The following proclamation for raising
mobs against the Methodists was issued:—
“NOTICE is hereby given, that if any men be mindful to enlist into
his majesty’s service, under the command of the Rev. George White,
commander-in-chief, and John Bannister, lieutenant-general of his
majesty’s forces, for the defence of the Church of England, and the
support of the manufactory in and about Colne, both of which are now
in danger, etc., etc., let them now repair to the drumhead at the
cross, where each man shall have a pint of ale for advance, and other
proper encouragements.”[27]
Besides this, White, within the last month, had preached an
inflammatory sermon which, at the end of the year, was published, with
a dedicatory epistle to the Archbishop of Canterbury. The title is,
“A Sermon against the Methodists, preached at Colne and Marsden, to a
very numerous audience; by George White, M.A., minister of Colne and
Marsden; and author of ‘Mercurius Latinus.’ Published at the request of
the audience.” Octavo, 24 pages.
This clerical railer tells the archbishop that, by means of Methodism,
there was, in this remote part of the country, “a schismatical
rebellion against the best of churches; a defiance of all laws,
civil and ecclesiastical; a professed disrespect to learning and
education; a visible ruin of trade and manufacture; a shameful progress
of enthusiasm; and a confusion not to be paralleled in any other
Christian dominion.” He adds, that he has taken pains to “inquire
into the characters of these new sectaries, and has found their
teachers shamefully ignorant, and criminally arrogant, while many of
them have been prevented arriving at the order of priesthood by early
immoralities.”
The text he professes to expound is 1 Corinthians xiv. 33, and the
following are a specimen of his spicy sentences concerning the
Methodists and their system:—“A weak illiterate crowd,”—“a labyrinth
of wild enthusiasm,”—preachers are “bold, visionary rustics, setting
up to be guides in matters of the highest importance, without any
other plea but uncontrollable ignorance,”—these officious haranguers
cozen a handsome subsistence out of their irregular expeditions.
Mr. Wesley has in reality a better income than most of our bishops.
The under lay praters, by means of a certain allowance from their
schismatic general, a contribution from their very wise hearers, and
the constant maintenance of themselves and horses, are in a better way
of living than the generality of our vicars and curates; and doubtless
find it much more agreeable to their constitution, to travel abroad
at the expense of a sanctified face and a good assurance, than to
sweat ignominiously at the loom, anvil, and various other mechanic
employments, which nature had so manifestly designed them for.”
But enough of the oracular utterances of Mr. White. Who was he? First
of all, he was educated at Douay, for orders in the Church of Rome.
Renouncing popery, he was noticed by Archbishop Potter, and made a
priest of the Church of England. An itch for scribbling made him the
author of about half-a-dozen worthless ungrammatical publications,
including “a burlesque poem on a miraculous sheep’s eye at Paris.” A
devoted son of “the best of churches,” he frequently abandoned his
church for weeks together; and, on one occasion, read the funeral
service more than twenty times in a single night over the dead bodies
which had been interred, without ceremony, during his absence from
home. He married an Italian governess in 1745; was imprisoned for debt
in Chester castle; and there died on April 29, 1751.[28]
If White’s sermon had not given birth to the murderous outrage at
Roughlee and Barrowford, it would have been too worthless to be
noticed. As it was, a brainless and ungrammatical production became
of such importance, that Grimshaw thought it his duty, in 1749,
to publish an answer to it. Grimshaw was not the man to be mealy
mouthed. On his title page he put the following: “Why boastest thou
thyself in mischief, O mighty man? The goodness of God endureth
continually. Thy tongue deviseth mischief; like a sharp razor, working
deceitfully. Thou lovest evil more than good; and lying words rather
than to speak righteousness. Thou lovest all devouring words, O thou
deceitful tongue; God shall likewise destroy thee for ever. He shall
take thee away, and pluck thee out of thy dwelling place, and root
thee out of the land of the living. The righteous also shall see and
fear, and laugh at him.” (Psalm lii. 1-6.) This was strong language
for the incumbent of Haworth to use respecting the perpetual curate
of Colne. Grimshaw tells him, that his sermon is “full of palpable
contradictions, absurdities, falsities, groundless suggestions, and
malicious surmises, and, in some sort, vindicates the people it was
intended to asperse.” Grimshaw’s “Answer” extends to eighty-six pages,
12mo, closely printed, and is an able and well written defence of
the poor, persecuted Methodists. White was no match for Grimshaw, at
least, in literary conflict. The one was a braggadocio, the other was
a giant; and, with a giant’s knotted club, he belabours the pompous
priest with anything but the gentleness of a carpet knight. White,
however, deserved all he got. The man was a popish cheat. Besides his
disgraceful imprisonment in Chester castle, he had, as Grimshaw reminds
him, been acting the rake, in London and elsewhere, for the last three
years; and now forsooth! all at once, the cheat and rake becomes the
virtuous and indignant champion of mother church. No wonder that
Grimshaw wrote: “_Bombalio! Clangor! Stridor! Taratantara! Murmur!_”
The terrible text on Grimshaw’s title page was a graphic description of
the miserable priest who raised the Roughlee mob, and its prophetic
utterances were soon fearfully fulfilled. Within three years White was
dead. “For some years,” says Wesley, “he was a popish priest. Then he
called himself a protestant. He drank himself first into a jail, and
then into his grave.”[29]
Leaving Barrowford, Wesley and his friends went to Heptonstall,
where he preached, with unexampled power, in an oval surrounded with
spreading trees, and scooped out of a hill, which rose round him and
his congregation like a rural theatre. He then made his way, through
Todmorden and Rossendale, to Bolton, where with the cross for his
pulpit, and a vast number of “utterly wild” people for his audience,
he began to preach. Once or twice they thrust him down from the steps
on which he was standing, but he still continued his discourse. Then
stones were thrown, which seem to have done more injury to the mob
themselves than they did to Wesley. One man was bawling in his ear,
when his bawling was silenced by a missile striking him on the cheek.
A second was forcing his way to the preacher, when another stone hit
him on his forehead, and disfigured him with blood. A third stretched
out his hand to lay hold on Wesley, when a sharp flint struck him on
the knuckles, and made him quiet till Wesley concluded his discourse
and went away. It was either on this, or some subsequent occasion, that
six papists, from Standish, near Wigan, rode right through the midst of
Wesley’s congregation; and tradition states, that two of the horsemen,
brothers of the name of Lyon, were afterwards hanged for burglary.[30]
Wesley and his friends proceeded from Bolton to Shackerley, six miles
farther, where he preached to a large congregation, including not a
few Unitarians, the disciples of Dr. Taylor, the divinity tutor of
the Unitarian academy founded at Warrington. Wesley, always hopeful,
remarks: “O what a providence is it, which has brought us here also,
among these silver tongued antichrists!” Wesley visited Shackerley
three times after this, and wrote, in 1751: “Being now in the very
midst of Mr. Taylor’s disciples, I enlarged much more than I am
accustomed to do, on the doctrine of original sin; and determined,
if God should give me a few years’ life, publicly to answer his new
gospel.” This was done six years afterwards; and Shackerley must always
have a place in Methodistic annals, inasmuch as to Wesley’s visits here
Methodism is indebted for the most elaborated work he ever wrote.
In his onward progress, Wesley came to Astbury, where a lawless
mob, headed by “Drummer Jack,” surrounded the preaching house, and
endeavoured, by discordant noises, to drown his voice. Some years
after, the same Drummer Jack was escorting a wedding party to Astbury
church, and, on reaching the spot where he had attempted to disturb
Wesley’s congregation, suddenly expired.[31]
Thus preaching on his way, Wesley, on September 4, got back to London.
Meanwhile, on July 5, Whitefield, after nearly a four years’ absence,
returned to England from America. On the day he landed, he wrote to his
friends, the two Wesleys; but an immediate interview was impracticable,
for Wesley himself was on his northern journey, and his brother
Charles, besides attending to his ministerial duties, was paying loving
attentions to Sarah Gwynne. Three days before Wesley got back to
London, Whitefield wrote to him as follows:—
“LONDON, _September 1, 1748_.
“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—My not meeting you in London has been a
disappointment to me. What have you thought about an union? I am
afraid an external one is impracticable. I find, by your sermons, that
we differ in principles more than I thought; and I believe we are
upon two different plans. My attachment to America will not permit
me to abide very long in England; consequently, I should but weave a
Penelope’s web, if I formed societies; and if I should form them, I
have not proper assistants to take care of them. I intend therefore
to go about preaching the gospel to every creature. You, I suppose,
are for settling societies everywhere; but more of this when we meet.
I hope you don’t forget to pray for me. You are always remembered by,
reverend and dear sir, yours most affectionately in Christ Jesus,
“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[32]
Whitefield left London for Scotland before Wesley’s arrival, and
the two evangelists had no opportunity of meeting until the end of
November, when, it is possible, they might, in their hurried ramblings,
have a brief interview in town. They were still the warmest friends;
but their courses of action were separate. Whitefield was a Calvinist;
Wesley was not. Whitefield thought an external union, of the Tabernacle
and other congregations with the congregations raised by Wesley, was
impracticable; Wesley, so far as there is evidence to show, did not
desire it. Whitefield had no societies, for the societies in Wales
really belonged not to him but to Howel Harris; Wesley had already
societies from one end of the kingdom to the other. Whitefield intended
to spend his time chiefly in America; Wesley meant to stay in England.
Whitefield, for the reasons he assigns, resolved to form no societies,
but to be a mere evangelist; Wesley was resolved, for reasons stated
at more than one of his annual conferences, to form societies wherever
he and his preachers preached. Here the two friends parted, one in one
direction, the other in another, both of them with hearts as warm as
ever, and both equally animated with zeal for God and benevolence for
man; but each, henceforth, cheerily pursuing his own chosen path, until
both, laden with the spoils of a victorious war, were welcomed to the
tranquillities and joys of their Father’s house in heaven.
Hitherto Whitefield’s preaching had chiefly been in fields and lanes,
squares and streets, woods and wildernesses; but now, oddly enough, he
was admitted into the drawing rooms of the rich and great.
The Right Honourable Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, wife of the Earl
of Huntingdon, and sister of the Earl of Ferrars, was now in the
forty-second year of her age. Her noble husband was a man of extensive
learning, was most exemplary in his character, and treated his wife
with great affection. At his death, in 1746, ninety-eight elegies were
written concerning him, and were published under the title of “_Lacrymæ
Musarum_.”
For two years past, the countess had been a widow. Hitherto, she had
admirably fulfilled her duties in the higher circles of society. At
Donnington Park, she had been the “Lady Bountiful” among her neighbours
and dependants; she had evinced great interest in their temporal
and eternal welfare; and, besides encouraging the clergy in her own
immediate neighbourhood, she had, more than once, dared to give a
hearty welcome to the outcast Wesleys and their friends. Her heart
was now pierced with the deepest sorrow, and was highly susceptible
of religious impressions. Just at this juncture, Whitefield came back
to England; his fervid eloquence attracted her attention; she made
him her chaplain; and what Whitefield had resolved not to do, she did
herself,—she founded societies, built chapels, appointed ministers,
and formed a Methodist connexion apart from that which was formed by
Wesley. She never renounced the Church of England; but she embraced
views hardly compatible with its practices and well being. She was a
child of emotion, carried onwards by an impulse not easily resisted
or described. She had her annual conferences; the preachers whom she
stationed were called “Lady Huntingdon’s preachers”; and the connexion
over which she presided was known by the name of “Lady Huntingdon’s
connexion.” Perhaps her people were less efficiently organised;
but she held to them the same relation that Wesley did to his. Her
authority was parental and decisive. No one doubted the purity of
her motives, and all trusted the general soundness of her judgment.
Chapels were erected in London, Brighton, Tunbridge Wells, Bath,
Bristol, Birmingham, and other places. Again and again, revivalists
were sent from one end of the land to the other, preaching everywhere,
and almost everywhere winning souls for Christ. A college, the first
that Methodism had, was opened at Trevecca, for the training of young
ministers. The countess was the empress of the new connexion, and
Whitefield was her prime minister. Wesley’s connexion was Arminian;
hers was Calvinist. His continues, and is more extended and powerful
than ever; hers has long been broken up into Independent churches.
Wesley died March 2, 1791; she on the 17th of June next ensuing.
The Countess of Huntingdon was, in many respects, the most remarkable
woman of her age and country. She was far from faultless; but she was
neither the gloomy fanatic, the weak visionary, nor the abstracted
devotee, which different parties have painted her. Her endowments
were above the ordinary standard, and were much improved by reading,
conversation, study, and observation. Though not a beauty, she was not
without the charms of the female sex. Her devotion to the work of God
was almost unexampled. Her house was used for Methodist meetings, which
were attended by large numbers of the nobility and higher classes,
including the Duchesses of Argyll, Bedford, Grafton, Hamilton, Montagu,
Queensberry, Richmond, and Manchester, and Lords Burlington, Townshend,
North, March, Trentham, Weymouth, Tavistock, Hertford, Trafford,
Northampton, Lyttelton, and others,—even William Pitt. During the last
forty years of her life, she gave, at least, £100,000 for the support
and extension of her system; and actually sold her jewels to find means
for the building of Brighton chapel. Her life was a beautiful course of
hallowed labour. Her death was the serene setting of a brilliant sun.
Almost her last words were: “My work is done; I have nothing to do but
to go to my Father.” She was a mother in Israel, whose decease left a
vacancy not filled up. Her person, endowments, energy, and spirit were
all uncommon. Accustomed to assume great responsibilities and to be
deferred to in matters of great importance, she necessarily cultivated
self reliance to such an extent as sometimes made her seem obstinate,
haughty, and dogmatical. Still, dignity and ease met in her; and in
manners she was refined, elegant, and engaging. Honour, heroism, and
magnanimity were always conspicuous in her remarkable career; and,
for intrepidity in the cause of God, and success in winning souls to
Christ, Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, stands unequalled among women.
Six weeks after his return from America, Whitefield commenced
preaching in her ladyship’s mansion. Among his earliest hearers was
the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, “a wit among lords, and a lord
among wits.” Twice a week, Whitefield preached to these conclaves of
nobility and rank, his congregations usually consisting of about thirty
persons.[33]
In London, he preached at St. Bartholomew’s, and helped to administer
the sacrament to a thousand communicants;[34] but, in other instances,
his congregations were thin. He found that antinomianism had made
sad havoc; but the scattered troops began to unite again.[35] He
writes November 19: “Matters were in great confusion by reason of Mr.
Cennick’s going over to the Moravians”; and again on December 21:
“I suppose not less than four hundred, through the practices of the
Moravians, have left the Tabernacle. I have also been forsaken in
other ways. I have not had above a hundred to hear me, where I had
twenty thousand; and hundreds now assemble within a quarter of a mile
of me, who never come to see or speak to me; though they must own, at
the great day, that I was their spiritual father. All this I find but
little enough to teach me to cease from man, and to wean me from that
too great fondness which spiritual fathers are apt to have for their
spiritual children.”[36]
No doubt, this was exceedingly distressing. But there was more than
this to annoy the once popular preacher. Just at the time when Wesley
got back to London, Whitefield set out for Scotland, where, on former
occasions, he had won some of his greatest triumphs; but now a synod
of his old friends, the Seceders, met in Edinburgh, on November 16, to
adopt the “new modelled scheme and covenant.” Hundreds took the oath,
and solemnly engaged to use all lawful means to extirpate, not only
“popery, prelacy, Arminianism, Arianism, tritheism, and Sabellianism,”
but also “George Whitefieldism”; and similar decisions were adopted at
the synods of Lothian, Ayr, and Glasgow.[37]
And added to all this, there was another trouble of a different kind,
in which Wesley was involved as well as Whitefield. Dr. Lavington was
bishop of Exeter, and was a fervent hater of the Methodists. He had
recently delivered a charge to the clergy of his diocese, and some
mischievous person had published a piece, which falsely pretended to
be the same as that which the bishop had addressed to his assembled
ministers. This fictitious charge contained such a declaration of
doctrines as exposed Lavington to the stigma of a Methodist, and
produced several pamphlets in reply and congratulation. His lordship
was enraged; and advertised, in the public papers, that the pamphlet
which had been affiliated upon himself was false; that the Methodist
leaders were the authors of the fraud; and that, though there might be
among the Methodists a few well meaning, ignorant people, yet the sect,
as a whole, were deluded enthusiasts, and their teachers something
worse than that.[38] Whitefield was accused as the principal, and
the Wesleys were suspected as being his accomplices, in the spurious
production. This was utterly untrue, but it occasioned Whitefield
considerable annoyance. It so happened that the pamphlet had been sent
to him in manuscript; but he denied its genuineness, and strongly
condemned the injustice of its publication.[39] Still, the bishop
persisted in his accusation. Lady Huntingdon wrote to him, assuring
him that Whitefield and the Wesleys were innocent, and demanded a
candid and honourable retraction of the charges against them. Her
letter was accompanied by an acknowledgment, on the part of the
printer, that no one was to blame for the publication except himself;
and, that he received the manuscript from one who had no connection
with the Methodists. His lordship maintained a sullen silence. The
countess wrote again, declaring that, unless Lavington complied with
her request, she would make the transaction public. This extorted a
recantation, and an apology “to her ladyship, and to Messrs. Whitefield
and Wesley for the harsh and unjust censures which he had passed upon
them, and a wish that they would accept his unfeigned regret for having
unjustly wounded their feelings, and exposed them to the odium of the
world.”[40]
The prelate recanted and apologized; but, henceforth, he became the
most bitter and implacable reviler that the Methodist leaders had; and,
within two years, began to publish his ribald and infamous attack,
entitled “The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared.”
Some good, however, arose out of this disreputable fracas. Among
other pamphlets published, the following was one: “A Letter to
the Right Rev. Father in God, George, Lord Bishop of Exeter. By a
Clergyman of the Church of England.” The writer states, that he has
no acquaintance whatever with either Wesley or Whitefield; but he
had read their books, and rejoiced in their revival of the grand old
doctrine of justification by faith alone. He then proceeds to defend
them against three accusations—1. That they had _left_ the Church. 2.
That they refused to be under political government. 3. That, though
their preaching was right in the main, they were immethodical in their
practice.
The pamphlet is chiefly remarkable for its being a defence of the
Methodists by a clergyman, who had no connection with the Wesleys. It
breathes piety, but lacks power.
Having spent a week in London, Wesley set out, on September 12, for
Cornwall. He preached to a “multitude” near St. Stephen’s Down,
who were as silent as death, while he was speaking; but the moment
he concluded, “the chain fell off their tongues. Never,” says he,
“was such a cackling made on the banks of Cayster, or the common of
Sedgmoor.” The St. Just society consisted “of one hundred and fifty
persons of whom more than a hundred were walking in the light of
God’s countenance.” At Newlyn, his congregation were “a rude, gaping,
staring rabble rout; some or other of whom were throwing dirt or stones
continually.”
On his return, he examined the Bristol society, and “left out every
careless person, and every one who wilfully and obstinately refused
to meet his brethren weekly. By this means the number of members was
reduced from nine hundred to about seven hundred and thirty.” He got
back to London on the 15th of October, and remained in town and its
immediate neighbourhood till the year expired. A short excursion was
made to Windsor and Wycombe, and also to Leigh. He likewise preached at
Wandsworth, where a little company had begun to seek and to serve God,
though the rabble had pelted them with dirt and stones, and abused both
men and women in the grossest manner.
His time, however, was partly occupied in writing. He had already
formed the project of publishing “The Christian Library.” Hence the
following letter to Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell.
“NEWCASTLE, _August 14, 1748_.
“DEAR SIR,—I have had some thoughts of printing, on a finer paper, and
with a larger letter, not only all that we have published already,
but it may be, all that is most valuable in the English tongue, in
threescore or fourscore volumes, in order to provide a complete
library for those that fear God. I should print only a hundred copies
of each. Brother Downes would give himself up to the work; so that
whenever I can procure a printing press, types, and some quantity of
paper, I can begin immediately. I am inclined to think several would
be glad to forward such a design; and if so, the sooner the better;
because my life is far spent, and I know not how soon the night cometh
wherein no man can work.
“I am, dear sir,
“Your affectionate brother and servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[41]
This was a bold design, which he began to execute in the ensuing year,
and for which he was already preparing materials. Mr. Blackwell was a
partner in a banking house in Lombard Street, London; and though, for
his plain honesty, he was often called the “rough diamond,”[42] he
was one of Wesley’s kindest and most valuable friends. To his country
house, at Lewisham, Wesley was accustomed to retire, when writing for
the press. Here he found an asylum during his serious illness in 1754.
To him, Blackwell was wont to entrust considerable sums of money, for
distribution among the poor.[43] Under such circumstances, no wonder
that Wesley, with his small purse and large project, should submit
his scheme to the London banker, for the purpose of ascertaining his
willingness to help in its execution.
Happy deaths among the Methodists were now not unfrequent. Wesley
mentions several; and the sanctified muse of his brother Charles never
attained to loftier poetic heights than when celebrating such events.
There were, however, at the end of 1748, a number of deaths painful as
well as pleasing. John Lancaster had been a regular attendant at the
Foundery’s five o’clock morning service, and had been converted; but,
by degrees, had left off coming; and had rejoined his old companions,
and, fallen into sin. One day, when playing at skittles, he became the
accomplice of a thief, and soon after broke into the Foundery, and
stole two of the chandeliers. In this instance, he escaped detection;
but, emboldened by success, he proceeded to steal nineteen yards of
velvet, the property of Mr. Powell; and, for this, was tried at the
Old Bailey sessions, in the month of August, and was sentenced to be
hanged.[44] The poor wretch sent for Sarah Peters and some other of
his old Methodist companions, to visit him in his cell. At the time,
there were nine others in the same prison awaiting execution. Six or
seven of them joined Lancaster and the Methodists in prayer, reading
the Scriptures, and singing hymns. A pestilential fever was raging in
the prison; but the visits were oft repeated. Lancaster professed to
find peace with God. Thomas Atkins, a youth, nineteen years of age,
condemned for highway robbery, said: “I bless God, I have laid my soul
at the feet of Jesus, and am not afraid to die.” Thomas Thompson, a
horse stealer, exceedingly ignorant, was brought into the same state
of mind. John Roberts, a burglar, at first utterly careless and
sullen, became penitent and believing. William Gardiner, convicted of
rape, said on his way to execution, “I have nothing to trust to but
the blood of Christ! If that won’t do, I am undone for ever.” Sarah
Cunningham, who had stolen a purse of twenty-seven guineas, at first
went raving mad, but, in her lucid intervals, earnestly implored
Christ to pity her. Samuel Chapman, a smuggler, seemed to fear neither
God nor devil, but, after Sarah Peters had talked to him, he began
to cry aloud for mercy, was seized with the jail distemper, and was
confined to his bed till carried to the gallows. Ten poor wretches,
the above included, were executed at Tyburn, on October 28.[45] Six
of them spent their last night together, in continuous prayer; and,
on Sarah Peters visiting them early in the morning, several of them
exclaimed, with a transport not to be expressed, “O what a happy night
we have had! What a blessed morning is this!” The turnkey said he had
never seen such people before; and, when the bellman came at noon,
to tell them, as usual, “Remember, you are to die to-day!” they cried
out, “Welcome news! welcome news!” When brought out for execution,
Lancaster exclaimed, “O that I could tell a thousandth part of the joys
I feel!” Atkins said, “Blessed be God, I am ready”; Gardiner cried, “I
am happy, and think the moments long; for I want to die, to be with
Christ”; Thompson witnessed the same confession. Spectators wept; and
the officers looked like men affrighted. On their way to Tyburn, the
convicts sang several hymns, and especially—
“Lamb of God, whose bleeding love
We still recal to mind,
Send the answer from above,
And let us mercy find:
Think on us, who think on Thee,
And every struggling soul release;
O remember Calvary,
And let us go in peace!”
Thus died Lancaster, a condemned felon, a quondam Methodist, one of his
last prayers being, that the Foundery congregation might abound more
and more in the knowledge and love of God, and that God would bless and
keep the Wesleys, and that neither men nor devils might ever hurt them.
And what became of Sarah Peters? Six days after the execution, she was
seized with malignant fever; and, ten days after that, she died. She
was, says Wesley, “a lover of souls, a mother in Israel. During a close
observation of several years, I never saw her, upon the most trying
occasions, in any degree ruffled or discomposed; she was always loving,
always happy. It was her peculiar gift, and her continual care, to seek
and to save that which was lost; and, in doing this, God endued her,
above her fellows, with the love that believeth, hopeth, and endureth
all things.”
Before closing the present chapter, all that remains is to note
Wesley’s publications during the year 1748. They were the following:—
1. “Thomæ à Kempis de Christo Imitando Libri Tres. Interprete Sebast.
Castellione. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ
Presbyter.” 12mo, 143 pages.
2. “Historiæ et Precepta selecta. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit
Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 79 pages.
3. “Marthurini Corderii Colloquia selecta. In Usum Juventutis
Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 51 pages.
4. “Instructiones Prælectiones Pueriles. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ.
Edidit Ecclesiæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 39 pages.