8. “A Word to a Methodist.” 12mo, 8 pages. This was written in Wales,
and was published in the Welsh language. The following is Wesley’s
account of it. “1748, March 27: Holyhead. Mr. Swindells informed me,
that Mr. E——, the minister, would take it a favour, if I would write
some little thing, to advise the Methodists not to leave the Church,
and not to rail at their ministers. I sat down immediately and wrote,
‘A Word to a Methodist,’ which Mr. E—— translated into Welsh, and
printed.” In a letter to Howel Harris, dated “Holyhead, February 28,
1748,” he says:—“I presume you know how bitter Mr. Ellis, the minister
here, used to be against the Methodists. On Friday, he came to hear me
preach, I believe with no friendly intention. Brother Swindells spoke
a few words to him, whereupon he invited him to his house. Since then,
they have spent several hours together; and, I believe, his views of
things are greatly changed. He commends you much for bringing the
Methodists back to the Church; and, at his request, I have wrote a
little thing to the same effect. He will translate it into Welsh, and
then I design to print it, both in Welsh and English.”[46]
9. “A Letter to a Friend concerning Tea.” 12mo, 24 pages. This tract
is a strongly worded condemnation of the use of tea; but, as the
substance of it has been already given, a further description is
unneeded.
10. “A Letter to a Clergyman.” Dublin: Printed by S. Powell, Crane
Lane. 12mo, 8 pages. This was written at Tullamore, in Ireland, on
the 4th of May, 1748; and was occasioned by a conversation with the
clergyman to whom it is addressed. Its object is to show, that the
preacher whose preaching saves souls is a true minister of Christ,
though he has not had a university education, is without learning, has
never been ordained, and receives no temporal reward.
11. “A Letter to a Person lately joined with the People called Quakers.
In answer to a Letter wrote by him.” 12mo, 20 pages. Wesley takes his
account of Quakerism from the writings of Robert Barclay, and shows
wherein the system differs from Christianity; namely—1. Because it
teaches that the revelations of the Spirit of God, to a Christian
believer, “are not to be subjected to the examination of the Scriptures
as to a touchstone.” 2. Because it teaches justification by works. 3.
Because it sets aside ordination to the ministry by laying on of hands.
4. Because it allows women to be preachers. 5. Because it affirms
that we ought not to pray or preach except when we are moved thereto
by the Spirit; and that all other worship, both praises, prayers, and
preachings, are superstitious, will worship, and abominable idolatries.
6. Because it alleges that “silence is a principal part of God’s
worship.” 7. Because it ignores the sacraments of baptism and the
Lord’s supper. 8. Because it denies that it is lawful for Christians
to give or receive titles of honour. 9. Because it makes it a part
of religion to say _thee_ or _thou_,—a piece of egregious trifling,
which naturally tends to make all religion stink in the nostrils of
infidels and heathens. 10. Because it teaches that it is not lawful for
Christians to kneel, or bow the body, or uncover the head to any man;
nor to take an oath before a magistrate.
In his wide wanderings, Wesley met with numbers of friendly Quakers, of
whom he speaks in terms of commendation; but their system was one which
he abhorred, and, in his “Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion,” he
speaks of the inconsistencies of their community in the most withering
terms. “A silent meeting,” said he in a letter to a young lady, “was
never heard of in the church of Christ for sixteen hundred years.”[47]
And, in one of his letters to Archbishop Seeker, he remarks: “Between
me and the Quakers there is a great gulf fixed. The sacraments of
baptism and the Lord’s supper keep us at a wide distance from each
other; insomuch that, according to the view of things I have now, I
should as soon commence deist as Quaker.”[48]
1749.
[Sidenote: 1749 Age 46]
In 1749, Wesley spent four months in London and its vicinity, nearly
four in Ireland, ten weeks in Bristol, Wales, and the surrounding
neighbourhood, and two months in his tour to the north of England.
His brother employed the year principally in Bristol, Wales, and
London, and in visiting intermediate towns and villages.
Whitefield was five months in London, more than five in Bristol and the
west of England, and about two were occupied in a visit to Newcastle
and the north. In London, besides preaching in the Tabernacle and
other places, he acted as the chaplain of the Countess of Huntingdon,
and, in her mansion, continued to publish the gospel’s glad tidings
to the noble and the rich. Of his seventy-eight published letters,
written during 1749, nearly half are addressed to titled ladies. Horace
Walpole, in a letter, dated March 23, 1749, remarks: “Methodism in
the metropolis is more fashionable than anything but brag; the women
play very deep at both; as deep, it is much suspected, as the matrons
of Rome did at the mysteries of the _Bona Dea_. If gracious Anne were
alive, she would make an admirable defendress of the new faith, and
would build fifty more churches for female proselytes.”[49]
In another letter, dated the 3rd of May, he writes:—“If you ever think
of returning to England, you must prepare yourself with Methodism.
This sect increases as fast as almost any religious nonsense ever did.
Lady Frances Shirley has chosen this way of bestowing the dregs of her
beauty; and Mr. Lyttelton is very near making the same sacrifice of
the dregs of all those various characters he has worn. The Methodists
love your big sinners, as proper subjects to work upon; and, indeed,
they have a plentiful harvest. Flagrancy was never more in fashion;
drinking is at the highest wine mark; and gaming is joined with it so
violently, that, at the last Newmarket meeting, a bank bill was thrown
down, and nobody immediately claiming it, they agreed to give it to a
man standing by.”[50]
Whitefield wrote: “I am a debtor to all, and intend to be at the
head of no party. I believe my particular province is, to go about
and preach the gospel to all. My being obliged to keep up a large
correspondence in America, and the necessity I am under of going
thither myself, entirely prevent my taking care of any societies. I
profess to be of a catholic spirit. I have no party to be at the head
of, and, through God’s grace, will have none; but, as much as in me
lies, strengthen the hands of all, of every denomination, that preach
Jesus Christ in sincerity.”[51]
His wife arrived from America at the end of June; and, a few weeks
afterwards, he set out for the north of England. In Grimshaw’s church,
at Haworth, he had a thousand communicants; and, in the churchyard,
about six thousand hearers. In Leeds, his congregation consisted of
above ten thousand. On his way to Newcastle, Charles Wesley met him,
and, returning with him, introduced him to the Orphan House pulpit.
Under the date of October 8, Charles writes “The Lord is reviving His
work as at the beginning. Multitudes are daily added to His church.
George Whitefield, my brother, and I, are one; a threefold cord, which
shall no more be broken. The week before last, I waited on our friend
George at our house in Newcastle, and gave him full possession of our
pulpit and people’s hearts, as full as was in my power to give. The
Lord united all our hearts. I attended his successful ministry for some
days. He was never more blessed, or better satisfied. Whole troops of
the Dissenters he mowed down. They also are so reconciled to us, as
you cannot conceive. The world is confounded. The hearts of those who
seek the Lord rejoice. At Leeds, we met my brother, who gave honest
George the right hand of fellowship, and attended him everywhere to our
societies. Some at London will be alarmed at the news; but it is the
Lord’s doing, as they will by-and-by acknowledge.”[52]
Rightly or wrongly, we thus find Whitefield disassociated from all
churches and all societies,—the friend of all, the enemy of none,—an
evangelist, not a pastor, making it the one business of his life to
spread gospel truth, and to convert sinners from sin to holiness, and
from the power of Satan unto God.
Wesley intended to visit Rotterdam at the beginning of 1749; but was
prevented by a request that he would write an answer to Dr. Middleton’s
book against the fathers. He says: “I spent almost twenty days in that
unpleasing employment.”
In the middle of the month of February, he and his brother, and
Charles Perronet, set out from London for Mr. Gwynne’s, in Wales,
for the purpose of making final arrangements for Charles’s marriage.
John’s proposal was to give his brother security for the payment of
£100 per annum out of the profits of their publications. This was
accepted as satisfactory, and Mr. Gwynne and Mr. Perronet were to act
as the trustees. Miss Sally Gwynne promised to let Charles continue
his vegetable diet and his travelling; and, though Mrs. Gwynne wished
to stipulate that he should not go again to Ireland, this, at her
daughter’s request, was not enforced. It is a fact, however, that, for
some reason, Charles Wesley never visited Ireland after he became the
son-in-law of Mrs. Gwynne.
Having completed the negotiations for his brother’s marriage, Wesley
hurried off to Bristol; and, at Kingswood, collected together seventeen
of his preachers, whom he divided into two classes, for the purpose of
reading lectures to them every day, during Lent, as he had formerly
done to his pupils at Oxford. To one class, he read Bishop Pearson
on the Creed; to the other, Aldrich’s Logic; and to both, “Rules for
Action and Utterance.” About a month seems to have been spent in this
ministerial training. Who were Wesley’s favoured pupils? This is a
question we cannot answer; but, from the books selected, we learn
that Wesley’s object was—(1) To teach theology; (2) the science of
reasoning; (3) the art of elocution. Leisure hours were occupied in
making preparations for the “Christian Library,” and in preaching in
the surrounding neighbourhood. Once a week, also, he spent an hour
with the assembled children of the four Kingswood schools; namely, the
boys boarded in the new house, the girls boarded in the old, the boys
in the day-school taught by James Harding, and the girls taught in the
day-school by Sarah Dimmock.[53]
Lent terminated on the 26th of March, and, a week afterwards, he
returned to Wales for the purpose of performing his brother’s marriage.
This took place on the 8th of April, and was, in all respects, a happy
one, though there was a considerable disparity in age, Charles being
forty, and his bride only twenty-three. Her father was a respected
magistrate; her mother an heiress of £30,000. The change from her
father’s mansion to a small house in Bristol was great; but she loved
her husband, and was never known to regret the comforts she had left
behind her. She became the mother of eight children: five died in
infancy; three survived their parents, and, by their distinguished
talent, added lustre even to the name of Wesley. She died on December
28, 1822, at the age of ninety-six. Her long life was an unbroken scene
of devoted piety in its loveliest forms; and her death equally calm and
beautiful.
Two days after his brother’s marriage, Wesley set out for Ireland,
where he landed at three o’clock on Sunday morning, April 16, and, on
the same day, preached thrice to the Dublin Methodists. Having spent
a fortnight in the city, where the members had increased from four
hundred to four hundred and forty-nine, he started off on a visit
to the provincial societies. At Edinberry, he had “an exceedingly
well behaved congregation,” including “many Quakers,” and took the
appropriate text, “They shall be all taught of God.” At Athlone, his
audience comprised seven or eight of the officers, and many of the
soldiers of the regiment to which John Nelson had been attached. Great
numbers of papists also attended, maugre the labour of their priests.
Several sinners were converted, including a man, who, for many years,
had been “eminent for cursing, swearing, drinking, and all kinds of
fashionable wickedness.” At Limerick, Wesley preached to about two
thousand people, not one of whom either laughed, or looked about, or
minded anything except the sermon. Here the society had taken a lease
of an old abbey, and had turned it into a Methodist meeting-house. He
met a class of soldiers, eight of whom were Scotch Highlanders; and was
introduced to a gentlewoman of unspotted character, who, for two years,
had fancied herself forsaken of God, and possessed with devils; and who
blasphemed and cursed, and vehemently desired and yet was afraid to
die. Of the Limerick society, he writes: “The more I converse with this
people, the more I am amazed. That God hath wrought a great work among
them, is manifest; and yet the main of them, believers and unbelievers,
are not able to give a rational account of the plainest principles of
religion. It is plain, God begins His work at the heart; then ‘the
inspiration of the Highest giveth understanding.’”
Having employed seventeen days in Limerick, Wesley, on the 29th of
May, set out for Cork; but, on the way, Charles Skelton met him,
with the tidings that, in consequence of the late riots (which will
be noticed presently), it was now impossible to preach in that city.
Wesley was not to be deterred; but he had no sooner entered than “the
streets, and doors, and windows were full of people.” Prudently enough,
instead of staying, he rode on to Bandon, a town entirely inhabited by
Protestants, where he had, by far, the largest congregations he had
seen in Ireland. Here he met a clergyman, who had come twelve miles
purposely to talk with him. All, however, was not smooth sailing even
at Bandon. Dr. B—— averred (1) That both John and Charles Wesley had
been expelled from the university of Oxford. (2) That there was not
a Methodist left in Ireland, except in Cork and Bandon, all the rest
having been rooted out, by order of the government. (3) That neither
were there any Methodists left in England. And (4) that Methodism was
all Jesuitism at the bottom. Wesley took the opportunity of replying
to these slanderous falsehoods; and then proceeded to Blarney, where
he found another rumour, that the Methodists placed all religion in
wearing long whiskers. At Brough, he preached to “some stocks and
stones”; and then got back to Limerick, whose society he pronounced the
_liveliest_ people he had found in Ireland.
Here he “spent four, comfortable days,” when, having appointed himself
to preach at Nenagh, he was obliged to leave; and, for want of better
accommodation, was glad to ride on horseback behind “an honest man,”
who overtook him as he trudged on foot. At Gloster, he preached “in the
stately saloon” of a beautiful mansion, built by an English gentleman.
At Ferbane, where he meant to dine, he stopped at two different inns,
but found that “they cared not to entertain heretics.” Again reaching
Athlone, he preached in the new built chapel, and, towards the close
of his discourse, cried out, “Which of you will give yourself, soul
and body, to God?” Mrs. Glass responded, with a cry that almost shook
the house, “I will, I will.” Two others followed, and the scene became
most exciting. Numbers began to cry aloud for mercy, and, in four days,
more found peace with God than had done in sixteen months before. At
Portarlington, a town chiefly inhabited by French, he met a clergyman,
who was a defender of the Methodists, and formed a society of above a
hundred persons.
More than nine weeks were occupied in this excursion. On the 5th of
July, Wesley got back to Dublin, and, a fortnight afterwards, returned
to England; but, before leaving Ireland, we must recur to Cork.
For some time, Methodism, in Cork, met with no serious opposition; but,
at length, by the secret plottings of the clergy, the town corporation
was moved, and a ballad singer of the name of Butler was engaged to
be the leader of a mob. This despicable fellow, dressed in a parson’s
gown and bands, with a Bible in one hand and a bundle of ballads in
the other, sang and vended, in the streets, doggerel rhymes, stuffed
with the vilest lies respecting the Methodists; and, by this means,
inflamed the populace against them. On the 3rd of May, Butler and his
ragged retinue assembled at the Methodist meeting-house, and pelted
the congregation with dirt. On the day following, stones, as well as
mire, were thrown; and both men and women were attacked with clubs
and swords, and many were most seriously wounded. On the 5th of May,
the mob was greater than ever; the mayor, who saw numbers of the
people covered with sludge and blood, refused to interfere; and the
two sheriffs of the city, entering the chapel, drove the congregation
among the rioters, and nailed up the doors. John Stockdale was beaten,
bruised, and gashed; and his wife thrown to the ground, and almost
murderously abused. For ten days ensuing, Butler and his rabble
assembled before the house of Daniel Sullivan,[54] a baker; beat and
abused his customers; then broke his windows and spoiled his goods,
the mayor of the city being an indifferent spectator. Not content with
this, for another fortnight, the rioters daily gathered at the front
of Sullivan’s shattered dwelling, and threatened to pull it down. He
applied to the mayor for protection. His worship answered, “It is your
own fault for entertaining those preachers.” Upon this, the mob set
up a loud huzza, and threw stones faster than ever. Sullivan said,
“This is fine usage under a protestant government; if I had a priest
saying mass in my house, it would not be touched.” The mayor replied,
“The priests are tolerated, but you are not;” and the crowd, thus
encouraged, continued throwing stones till midnight. On May 31, the
day that Wesley passed through Cork, Butler and his friends assembled
at the chapel, and beat, and bruised, and cut the congregation most
fearfully. The rioters burst open the chapel doors; tore up the pews,
the benches, and the floor, and burnt them in the open street. Other
outrages were perpetrated almost daily during the month of June. Butler
and his gang of ruffians went from street to street, and from house
to house, abusing, threatening, and maltreating the Methodists at
their pleasure. Some of the women narrowly escaped with life. Butler,
addressing Thomas Burnet, said, “You are a heretic dog; your soul will
burn in hell.” Burnet meekly asked, “Why do you use me thus?” Upon
which Butler struck him with a stone, and rendered him incapable of
working for upwards of a week; and, at the same time, without the least
provocation, hit his wife, and so hurt her that she was obliged to take
to her bed. Ann Cooshea and her family were called heretic bitches; and
then a huge stone was thrown at her head with such force as to render
her insensible. Ann Wright was told, by the same inhuman wretches, that
they would make her house hotter than hell; her goods were dashed to
pieces; while she herself was pelted with all kinds of missiles, and
had to quit her shop, and flee for her very life. Margaret Griffin
had her clothes torn to tatters; was cut in the mouth; and beaten and
abused to such a degree, that she was covered with gore, and spat blood
for several days. Jacob Connor was fearfully wounded, and, had not a
gentleman interposed, would probably have been killed. Ann Hughes,
besides being called most abusive names, was dragged by Butler along
the ground; had her clothing rent in pieces; and was stabbed and
slashed in both her arms by the sword of the ferocious brute. Butler
and his troop came to Mary Fuller’s shop, brandishing a dagger, and
swearing he would cleave her skull. He then made a stroke at her head,
which must have killed her, had not Henry Dunkle diverted the felon’s
aim. Dunkle was seized; had his shirt and clothes torn to tatters; and
narrowly escaped an untimely death, by the interference of neighbours.
Mary Fuller fled for life, and had her goods hacked to pieces. Margaret
Tremnell was violently struck with a club on her arm and back; stones
were hurled into her shop; and her property was partly destroyed by the
swords of Butler’s mob, and partly thrown into the street.
For two months, these horrible outrages were continued; and, at the
end of that period, Wesley writes:—“It was not for those who had any
regard, either to their persons or goods, to oppose Mr. Butler after
this. So the poor people patiently suffered, till long after this,
whatever he and his mob were pleased to inflict upon them.”
Of these subsequent sufferings details are wanting. We only know that,
on the 19th of August, twenty-eight depositions respecting Nicholas
Butler and his crew were laid before the grand jury of the Cork
assizes, and were all thrown out. At the same time, the same jurists
made a memorable presentment, “which,” says Wesley, “is worthy to be
preserved in the annals of Ireland, to all succeeding generations,” to
wit, that Charles Wesley, and seven other Methodist preachers therein
named, together with Daniel Sullivan, the honest baker, were all
persons of ill fame, vagabonds, and common disturbers of his majesty’s
peace, and ought to be transported.
This, of course, gave Butler greater licence than ever. His fiendish
persecutions had received a sort of semi-official sanction, and were
carried on with the greatest gusto. Even as late as February, 1750, ten
months after the outrages first commenced, we find him and his friends
entering the house of William Jewell, breaking his windows, beating
his wife, and swearing that they would blow out his brains if he
offered the least resistance. Mary Philips was abused in the grossest
terms, was struck on the head, and narrowly escaped an untimely death.
Elizabeth Gardelet, a soldier’s wife, was met by Butler and his rabble;
and, without any provocation, the brute struck her with both his fists,
and beat her head against a wall. On escaping from him, he pursued her
and struck her in the face. Running into a school-yard for shelter,
he vociferated, “You whore, you stand on consecrated ground;” threw
her across the lane; knocked her down backwards; and otherwise so ill
treated her as to occasion her miscarriage.
Several depositions, to this effect, were laid before the grand jury
of the Lent assizes; but, like those at the assizes preceding, were
all rejected. A true bill, however, was found against Daniel Sullivan
for discharging a pistol, without a ball, over the heads of Butler
and his mob, while they were pelting him with stones. Several of the
preachers, presented as vagabonds in autumn, appeared at these assizes,
and were ordered into the dock of common criminals. Butler was the
first witness against them. The judge, looking at him with a suspicious
eye, asked what his calling was. The worthless fellow hung down his
head, and sheepishly replied, “I sing ballads, my lord.” The judge
lifted up his hands in surprise, and said, “Here are six gentlemen,”
(so he was pleased to style them,) “indicted as vagabonds, and the
first accuser is a vagabond by profession.” A second witness, being
called, was asked the same question. He impudently answered, “I am an
anti-swaddler, my lord.” The judge resented the insolence, and ordered
the buffoon out of court. Then turning to the jury, he reprimanded the
corporation and others, for suffering such a vagrant as Butler to be
the ringleader of a rabble, who had committed such atrocious outrages
upon so many of the peaceable and respectable inhabitants of the city;
and declared that it was an insult to the court to bring such a case
before him. The abettors of this infamous persecution were put to
shame, and Butler was discarded; but the riots, as we shall see in the
next chapter, were still continued.
One of the rabble was, shortly afterwards, buried in a coffin
made of two of the benches which he had stolen from the Methodist
meeting-house; while the notorious Butler, in the first instance, went
to Waterford, where, in another riot, he lost an arm;[55] and then
fled to Dublin, where he dragged out the remainder of his life in well
deserved misery, and was actually saved from starving by the charity of
the Dublin Methodists.[56]
To these abominable outrages we are indebted for several of Wesley’s
tracts, published at this period; as his “Short Address to the
Inhabitants of Ireland”; his “Letter to a Roman Catholic”; his “Roman
Catechism”; and others, which will be noticed more fully hereafter.
We now return to England. In the month of April, a letter was published
in the _Bath Journal_, alleging that many Methodists of eminence had
been publicly charged with the crimes of fornication and adultery, and
that one of their preachers had preached the lawfulness of polygamy.
Wesley replied to this infamous accusation while in Ireland, and, of
course, denied the reported slander.[57]
On August 28, he set out on a two months’ journey to the north of
England, during which occurred one of the most painful episodes in his
eventful life. But before proceeding further, some account must be
given of two of the chief actors in this humiliating scene.
John Bennet was born at Chinley, in Derbyshire; received a good
education; was fond of books; and, at the age of seventeen, was placed
under the care of Dr. Latham, near Derby, with a view of his studying
for the office of the Christian ministry. Before long, however, he
engaged himself as clerk to a magistrate; and, at twenty-two, embarked
in the business of carrier between Sheffield and Macclesfield,
employing a number of horses for conveying goods across mountains,
over which carts and wagons had never passed.[58] In 1739, he went
to Sheffield races; heard David Taylor preach; sold his racehorse;
brought Taylor into Derbyshire; and was converted. He soon relinquished
all secular pursuits, and began to preach himself; his “round,” as it
was called, extending to Macclesfield, Burslem, Chester, Whitehaven,
Bolton, and Manchester.[59] In 1742, he first met with Wesley; and,
a year later, became one of his itinerants, and attended the first
Methodist conference in 1744.[60] On October 3, 1749, he was married
to Grace Murray. Meanwhile, he had introduced Methodism into Stockport
and the city of Chester; had been mobbed in Manchester; and had formed
a society in Rochdale.[61] At the conference following his marriage,
he was appointed to the Cheshire circuit, and was desired to furnish a
plan for conducting quarterly meetings; and to pay a special visit to
Wednesbury and Newcastle, for the purpose of teaching the Methodists
of these circuits “the nature and method” of such meetings.[62] Soon
after, he began to grumble, and wrote to Whitefield complaining of
Wesley’s discipline and doctrine. Whitefield replied, on June 29, 1750,
as follows:—
“I am utterly unconcerned in the discipline of Mr. Wesley’s societies.
I can be no competent judge of their affairs. If you and the rest of
the preachers were to meet together more frequently, and tell each
other your grievances and opinions, it might be of service. This
may be done in a very friendly way; and, thereby, many uneasinesses
might be prevented. After all, those that will live in peace must
agree to disagree in many things with their fellow labourers, and
not let little things part or disunite them. I know not well what you
mean about gospel privileges. If you mean lovefeasts, bands, etc.,
these I think are prudential means, and, therefore, prudence should
be exercised in the use of them. I am of your opinion, that too much
familiarity in these things is hurtful. But it is hard to keep a
medium, where a multitude is concerned. As ill effects are discovered,
they should be corrected and avoided. The question and answer you
refer to, I do not like. I know nothing of Christ’s righteousness
being imputed to all mankind. It is enough to say with the Scriptures,
‘that it is imputed to all believers.’ Another seven years’ experience
will teach some to handle the word of life in a better manner. You
would do well to read more; but whether it would be best for you to
pursue, or re-assume, your old studies, unless you are determined to
settle, I cannot tell. Reading a _Latin_ author, a little every day,
could do you no hurt. It has been my judgment, that it would be best
for many of the present preachers to have a tutor, and retire for a
while, and be content with preaching now and then, till they were a
little more improved. Otherwise, I fear many who now make a temporary
figure, for want of a proper foundation, will run themselves out of
breath, will grow weary of the work, and leave it. This is the plan
I purpose to pursue abroad. Look to Jesus, and let not little things
disappoint and move you. If this be your foible, beware, and pray that
Satan may not get an advantage over you. He will be always striving
to vex and unhinge you. The Lord be with you and yours, and give Mrs.
Bennet faith and courage in her approaching hour!”[63]
Besides being in other respects of some importance, Whitefield’s letter
will help the reader to understand Bennet’s subsequent career. It was
not nine months since his marriage with Grace Murray; and, eighteen
months after this, he stood up in the Bolton chapel, and said, “I have
no longer any connection with Mr. Wesley. He denies the perseverance
of the saints, and asserts sinless perfection. All of you, who are of
my mind, follow me.” The society did so; for, out of a hundred and
twenty-seven members, only nineteen remained faithful. He then went
to Stockport, where, after preaching, he met the society, told them
what he had done at Bolton, and added, “You must take either me or Mr.
Wesley.” They all joined him, but one, Molly Williamson. He promised
to preach to them every fortnight; but, within a year, utterly forsook
them.[64]
Here we have the first Methodist agitator. Bennet pursued his divisive
career. On December 30, 1751, Thomas Mitchell preached at Bolton, after
which Bennet met the shattered society, spoke bitterly of Wesley,
and said he was a pope, and preached nothing but popery. Spreading
out his hands, he cried, “Popery! popery! popery! I have not been in
connection with him these three years, neither will I be any more.”
Thomas Mitchell said, “The spirit in which you now speak is not of God;
neither are you fit for the pulpit, while you are of such a spirit”;
upon which a woman struck Mitchell in the face. The congregation
was now in uproar, and Mitchell quietly retired. The day following,
however, Bennet went to the quarterly meeting, and repeated to all the
stewards of the circuit what he had said, on the previous evening,
to the Bolton society. “His mind,” says Thomas Mitchell, “was wholly
set against Mr. Wesley, and against the whole Methodist doctrine and
discipline; and he had so infused his own spirit into the people in
many places, that I had hard work among them. But the Lord kept my soul
in peace and love. Glory be unto His holy name!”[65]
Such was John Bennet, the first Methodist reformer,—a man of
respectable social position, and a classical scholar; but a man not
overstocked with honesty and honour, a man of energy, but somewhat
conceited, a hard worker, and, we hope, devout, but also suspicious,
testy, and vindictive,—a man whose early labours were greatly blessed,
but who, in 1754, settled at Warburton, a small village of four or five
hundred inhabitants, situated about six miles eastward of the town
of Warrington; where, in a chapel erected for his use, he continued
to preach Calvinistic doctrines for the next five years, when he was
seized with jaundice, and, after an illness of thirty-six weeks,
finished his course on May 24, 1759, aged forty-five.[66] His wife, who
had no little experience, says she never saw any saint’s death to equal
his. Addressing him, she said, “Thou art not afraid of dying?” “No,” he
answered, “I am assured, beyond a doubt, that I shall be with Christ.
I long to be dissolved. Come, Lord Jesus! Loose me from the prison
of this clay!” She asked again, “Canst thou now stake thy soul on the
doctrines thou hast preached?” “Yes,” said he, “ten thousand souls. It
is the everlasting truth. Stick by it.” He then prayed for his wife,
his children, and the church, after which he said, “I long to be gone.
I am full. My cup runneth over. Sing, sing, yea, shout for joy”; and
with the words, “Sing, sing, sing,” upon his lips, he died.
Grace Murray, his wife and widow, was the daughter of Robert and Grace
Norman, of Newcastle upon Tyne, and was born January 28, 1716. In early
childhood, she was religiously disposed, read the Bible, and gave all
her pence to relieve the poor. Between eight and nine she was sent
to a dancing school, lost her religious impressions, and became an
admired companion of the gay and frivolous. At sixteen, she commenced
sweethearting, and, at eighteen, was pressed by her attentive swain
to marry; but, being averse to this, she removed to London to her
sister. Here she became a servant, and, as far as her circumstances
permitted, was swallowed up in worldly pleasures and diversions. At the
age of twenty, she married a sailor of the name of Alexander Murray,
who, three or four days after the marriage ceremony, went to sea, and
was absent for ten or eleven months. Her husband, however, though a
sailor, was related to a Scottish family of some importance, who,
being concerned in the rebellion of 1715, had forfeited their estate,
and suffered other loss and inconvenience. Her first affliction was
the death of an infant child, fourteen months of age. This made her
serious, and she began to attend the ministry of Whitefield and the
Wesleys. She became a penitent; and, while reading Romans v., found
peace with God, through faith in Christ. Her husband, returning from a
voyage, and finding she had become a Methodist, swore that she should
not hear the Methodists again. Grace told him, that if she yielded to
him in this, she should lose her soul. He stamped and raved and swore:
“You shall leave them or me.” She answered: “I love you above any one
else on earth; but I will leave you and all that I have, sooner than I
will leave Christ.” He threatened to send her to the mad house in West
Gardens. She replied: “I am ready to go not only to prison, but to
death. I know in whom I have believed, and am confident He would give
me strength to confess Him in the flames.” Her husband said: “If you
are resolved to go on thus, I will leave you; I will go as far as ships
can sail.” She answered: “I cannot help it; I could lay down my life
for you; but I cannot destroy my soul. If you are resolved to go, you
must go; I give you up to God.”
In process of time, Murray softened, and he himself became a penitent,
desiring nothing so much as to know Jesus Christ and Him crucified. In
August, 1741, he sailed for Virginia, and, in the same month of the
year following, the ship returned with the tidings that he had been
drowned at sea.
In October, Grace Murray returned to her mother’s, at Newcastle, a
young, fascinating widow of twenty-six. She was no sooner settled, than
John Brydon fell in love with her, and, though there was no engagement,
it was commonly supposed they were about to marry. Meanwhile, she was
appointed leader of several classes, and made excursions to Horsley,
Tanfield, and neighbouring villages, speaking to the people, and
praying with the societies. Thomas Meyrick, one of the preachers, being
ill, she, at Wesley’s desire, removed to the Orphan House to take care
of him; but a feminine squabble between her and sister Jackson soon led
to her returning to her mother’s.
In the spring of 1743, she came back to London; and then returned to
Newcastle in the autumn following, where she devoted herself altogether
to the service of the church. Her home was the Orphan House. Part
of every week she spent with her classes and the sick; the rest in
visiting the country societies. She and sister Jackson had renewed
quarrels, which, at the end of a year, led to her again retiring from
what ought to have been a holy and happy family. In the meantime, John
Brydon married another woman, and soon became careless about religious
matters. “This,” says Grace Murray, “shocked me exceedingly. I was
afraid his blood would be upon my head, because I did not marry him.”
She fell into deep despondency; saw nothing but hell before her; wished
she had been a beast or creeping thing; was tempted to dash out her
brains. “I was got to such a pass,” she says, “that no preaching did
me any good; so wise, that I thought I knew all before the preacher
spoke. The Holy Spirit was grieved. My state daily grew worse and
worse; and I was even ready to disbelieve in the Bible itself.”
For about two years, she continued in this mournful and distressed
condition, when she was again enabled to rejoice in God her Saviour,
and again became an inmate of the Orphan House. Here, during the autumn
of 1745 and the spring of 1746, besides her usual employment in town
and country, she had to nurse John Haughton, William Sheppard, and
Thomas Westall, all of whom were seriously attacked by fever. In 1747,
she had to render the same service to John Wheatley, Edward Dunstan,
and Eleazer Webster, who were all ill in the house together. John
Bennet, also, was seized with fever, and for twenty-six weeks was
tended by her with the greatest care. Such was the life she lived until
the autumn of 1748, when she and the other Orphan House sisters again
had quarrels, and, for this and another reason to be mentioned shortly,
she left the family for ever.
In October, 1749, she became the wife of John Bennet, and, of course,
was with him in all his disreputable railings against Wesley. To
some extent, she sympathised with the action that her husband took,
and also embraced his Calvinistic creed. She was left a widow with
five sons, the eldest not eight years old; and, ever after, lived a
life of religious retirement. She rose early, prayed much, watched
the education of her children, observed great order in her domestic
matters, read largely, entertained gospel ministers, visited the sick,
and had weekly meetings for prayer and Christian fellowship, chiefly
conducted by herself. Having seen those of her children, who were
spared, settled in life, she removed to Chapel-en-le-frith, where she
again joined the Methodists, and had a class-meeting in her house. Her
diary, begun in 1792 and continued for eight years afterwards, when
her eyesight failed her, is rich and beautiful. She died on February
23, 1803, aged eighty-seven, after a widowhood of nearly four and
forty years. Her last words were: “Glory be to Thee, my God; peace
Thou givest.” Dr. Bunting, at that time one of the circuit preachers,
preached her funeral sermon, from a text of her own choosing: “I had
fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the
land of the living.”[67]
We now reluctantly proceed to dwell on matters of extreme delicacy,
and which, under ordinary circumstances, ought not to be introduced;
but the case before us is exceptional. John Wesley’s courtship with
Grace Murray has been noticed by all his biographers; but, as Mr.
Jackson observes:—“all the circumstances of the case have never
been disclosed, and the affair is still involved in considerable
mystery.”[68] In its ultimate effects, it was one of the great events
in Wesley’s history. Curiosity has been excited, but never satisfied.
What is the truth respecting it? Who was the faithless one? What were
the tricks employed? Who were the censurable parties? Did Wesley act
discreetly, or did he act dishonourably? Does the transaction stain the
character of the great reformer, or is he innocent and injured? These
are questions of some importance, and must serve as an apology for the
introduction of details usually omitted in the biographical memoirs of
illustrious men.
It has been already stated, that Charles Wesley contemplated marriage
early in the year 1748. In the month of August following, his brother
was seized, at Newcastle, with what seems to have been a bilious
attack, and which, to some extent, disabled him, though, during its
six days’ continuance, he managed to preach at Biddick, at Pelton, at
Spen, at Horsley, and at Newcastle. Grace Murray attended him during
his sickness. When he was somewhat recovered, he proposed to marry her.
She seemed amazed, and said, “This is too great a blessing for me; I
can’t tell how to believe it. This is all I could have wished for under
heaven!” From that time, Wesley regarded her as his affianced bride.
In a week or ten days after making his proposal of marriage, Wesley was
obliged to leave Newcastle for the south. The night before he started,
he told Grace Murray that he was fully convinced God intended her to
be his wife; and that, though they must part at present, he hoped when
they again met, they would part no more. The young widow begged they
might not separate so soon, saying it was more than she could bear.
Upon this, Wesley took her with him through Yorkshire and Derbyshire,
where, he says, “she was unspeakably useful both to him and to the
societies.” Here they parted, Grace Murray being left with Bennet, and
Wesley making his way to London.
Is it unfair to suspect some dishonourable collusion here? Let us see.
A year before, John Bennet, for twenty-six weeks, was an invalid in
the Orphan House, at Newcastle, and was nursed by widow Murray. From
that time, they carried on an epistolary correspondence. Meanwhile,
Wesley had proposed marriage, and his proposal had been ardently
accepted. Grace Murray was so deeply smitten, that she was unable
to bear the thought of Wesley leaving her. To satisfy and give her
pleasure, he, perhaps indiscreetly, took her with him; but, on reaching
John Bennet’s circuit, he was permitted to proceed alone, and she
contentedly remained with a man whom she had nursed in sickness for
half a year, and with whom she had corresponded ever since. Added
to all this, no sooner had Wesley left the loving couple, than they
both wrote to him; Bennet desiring his consent to marry her; and she
declaring that she believed it was the will of God she should. Wesley
was “utterly amazed, but wrote a mild answer to both, supposing they
were married already.” Further correspondence followed. For six months,
immediately succeeding, she coquetted between the two. When she heard
from Wesley, she resolved to live and to die with him. When Bennet
wrote, she replied to him in the tenderest terms. In February, 1749,
she sent to Bennet the intelligence, that Wesley had requested her to
accompany him to Ireland; that, if he loved her, he must meet her at
Sheffield; and that, if he failed in this, she could not answer for
results. Bennet determined to go to Sheffield; but, at the last moment,
was prevented by the death of a relative. The widow, therefore, went on
to Bristol without seeing him. Here there were mutual explanations.
She related to Wesley what had passed between Bennet and herself, and
seemed to think, that the contract was binding. Wesley, on the other
hand, reminded her of what had passed between himself and her; and she
professed herself quite convinced, that her engagement with Bennet was
not binding; and, accordingly, she and Wesley went off to Ireland.
Here they passed several months together. “She examined all the women
in the smaller societies, and the believers in every place. She settled
all the women bands, visited the sick, prayed with the mourners, more
and more of whom received remission of sins, during her conversation
or prayer.” To Wesley himself “she was both a servant and a friend, as
well as a fellow labourer in the gospel. She provided everything he
wanted; and told him, with all faithfulness and freedom, if she thought
anything amiss in his behaviour. The more they conversed together, the
more he loved her; and, at Dublin, they contracted by a contract _de
præsenti_. All this while she neither wrote to Bennet, nor he to her.”
At the end of July, they returned to Bristol. Here she heard some idle
tales concerning Wesley and Molly Francis. Jealousy took possession of
her, and she addressed a loving letter to forsaken Bennet, and received
an answer, that he would meet her in her journey to the north.
In August, she came with Wesley to London. Here a friend advised her to
abandon the thought of marrying Wesley, on the ground, that the London
Methodists would never treat her with the respect which Wesley’s wife
ought to have; and, that she had not sufficient humility and meekness
to bear the slights that would be cast upon her.
On August 28, they started for Newcastle; and, at Epworth, John Bennet
met them. Wesley began to “speak to him freely.” Bennet told him, that
Grace Murray had sent to him all the letters which Wesley had sent
to her. This decided Wesley. He judged it right, that she and Bennet
should marry without delay, and wrote her a line accordingly. On
receiving it, she ran to Wesley “in an agony of tears, and begged him
not to talk so, unless he designed to kill her.” Immediately after,
Bennet came to Wesley, and “claimed her as his right”; and Wesley again
“determined to give her up.” Four or five days were spent at Epworth.
Wesley had fully made up his mind to let John Bennet have her, though
he felt the deepest anguish from what he calls “a piercing conviction
of his irreparable loss.” While thus suffering, a message was brought
him, that “sister Murray was exceeding ill.” He went to her. She cried,
“How can you think I love any one better than I love you! I love you a
thousand times better than I ever loved John Bennet in my life. But I
am afraid, if I don’t marry him, he’ll run mad.” At night, Bennet came
to visit her, and, at his urgent request, she again promised to be his
wife. Next morning she told Wesley what had passed; and he was more
perplexed than ever.
On September 4, they proceeded to Newcastle, resting on the way at
Sykehouse, and at Osmotherley. For several days, Wesley was unable to
decide how to act; but on September 6, he asked her, “Which will you
choose?” Again and again she declared, “I am determined, by conscience
as well as by inclination, to live and die with you.” Accordingly, the
day following, he wrote a long letter to Bennet, remonstrating with him
on his unjust, unkind, and treacherous behaviour. This was sent by the
hand of William Shent, but was not delivered. She also wrote to Bennet
to the same effect.
She now urged Wesley to marry her _immediately_. To this he objected,
because he wished—(1) To satisfy John Bennet; (2) to procure his
brother’s consent; (3) to send an account of his reasons for marrying
to all his preachers and societies, and to desire their prayers. She
said she would not be willing to wait longer than a year. He answered,
“Perhaps less time will suffice.” She seemed satisfied, and every day
and almost every hour assured him of the most intense and inviolable
affection; and declared God had now united them for ever.
She was not without enemies, and Wesley took the opportunity of
inquiring their reasons for disliking her. Sister Lyddell’s reason was,
because Grace had had the impudence to ride into Newcastle with him.
Mr. Williams accused her of not lending his wife her saddle; and Mrs.
Williams of buying a holland shift. Nancy and Peggy Watson were angry,
because she had bought a joseph before she wanted it. Ann Matteson
complained of her being proud and insolent; and Betty Graham of her
spending ten shillings upon an apron. Wesley regarded all this as the
fruit of vexatious jealousy.
On September 20 they went, with Christopher Hopper, to Hineley Hill.
Hopper was made their confidant. In his presence, they renewed the
contract they had made in Dublin; after which he was despatched to
Chinley, in Derbyshire, to try to satisfy John Bennet. Wesley himself
went forward to Whitehaven; his betrothed being left behind to examine
the women bands in Allandale.
Meanwhile, Wesley had written to his brother Charles at Bristol.
Charles was shocked at the thought of his brother marrying at all, and
especially of his marrying a woman who had been a domestic servant; and
believed, that it would break up all their societies, and put a stop to
the work of God. Instead of replying to his brother’s letter, Charles
hurried down to Leeds, and thence posted to Newcastle, where Jeannie
Keith informed him that, in consequence of his brother’s contemplated
marriage, the town was in an uproar, and all the societies ready to
fall in pieces. He hastened to Whitehaven, and told his brother,
that all their preachers would leave them, and all their societies
disperse, if he married so mean a woman. Wesley weighed the reasons
alleged against his marrying. He acknowledges that, at the age of seven
and twenty, he was persuaded that “it was unlawful for a priest to
marry”; and that, soon after, he was brought to think that there was
some degree of taint upon the mind, necessarily attending the marriage
bed. Further inquiry, however, had led him to alter his opinions. The
meanness of Grace Murray’s origin was no objection, for he had regarded
her, not for her birth, but for her qualifications. She was remarkably
neat; nicely frugal, yet not sordid; gifted with a large amount
of common sense; indefatigably patient, and inexpressibly tender;
quick, cleanly, and skilful; of an engaging behaviour, and of a mild,
sprightly, cheerful, and yet serious temper; while, lastly, her gifts
for usefulness were such as he had not seen equalled. His conclusions
were: (1) “have scriptural reason to marry. (2) I know no person so
proper as this.”
Next morning his brother left him, and proceeded to Hineley Hill.
Meeting the intended bride, he kissed her, and said, “Grace Murray, you
have broken my heart.” By some means, he persuaded her to ride behind
him to Newcastle, where John Bennet was awaiting their arrival. She
fell at her lover’s feet, acknowledged she had used him ill, and begged
he would forgive her. Within a week, the two were made man and wife in
St. Andrew’s church.
Whitefield was at Leeds, and, by Joseph Cownley, wrote to Wesley,
desiring him to come to him. Wesley went, and was told by Whitefield,
that his brother refused to leave Newcastle till John Bennet and Grace
Murray had been united in marriage bonds. Perceiving Wesley’s trouble,
Whitefield wept and prayed over him, and did all he could to comfort
him. The day after, Charles and the newly married couple came. Charles,
with characteristic impetuosity, accosted his brother, saying, “I
renounce all intercourse with you, but what I would have with a heathen
man or a publican.” Whitefield and John Nelson burst into tears;
prayed, cried, and entreated, till the storm passed over. The brothers,
unable to speak, fell on each other’s neck. John Bennet was introduced;
but, instead of upbraiding, Wesley kissed him. Wesley and his brother
had a private interview, and, on hearing explanations, Charles was
utterly amazed, exonerated him from blame, and declared that all the
culpability was hers.
Thus the matter ended. Wesley patiently submitted; but this was,
unquestionably, one of the greatest trials of his life. In a long hymn
of thirty-one six lined stanzas, he poured forth the sorrows of his
heart.[69] Four days after the marriage, he wrote as follows, to Mr.
Thomas Bigg, of Newcastle:—
“LEEDS, _October 7, 1749_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Since I was six years old, I never met with
such a severe trial as for some days past. For ten years, God has
been preparing a fellow labourer for me, by a wonderful train of
providences. Last year I was convinced of it; therefore I delayed not,
but, as I thought, made all sure beyond a danger of disappointment.
But we were soon after torn asunder by a whirlwind. In a few months,
the storm was over; I then used more precaution than before, and
fondly told myself that the day of evil would return no more. But it
too soon returned. The waves rose again since I came out of London.
I fasted and prayed, and strove all I could; but the sons of Zeruiah
were too hard for me. The whole world fought against me; but above
all, my own familiar friend. Then was the word fulfilled, ‘Son of man,
behold! I take from thee the desire of thine eyes at a stroke; yet
shalt thou not lament, neither shall thy tears run down.’
“The fatal, irrecoverable stroke was struck on Tuesday last. Yesterday
I saw my friend (that was), and him to whom she is sacrificed. I
believe you never saw such a scene. But ‘why should a living man
complain? a man for the punishment of his sins?’
“I am, yours affectionately,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[70]
Wesley was not without friends to sympathise with him. Vincent
Perronet, in a letter to Charles Wesley, wrote:—
“Yours came to hand to-day. I leave you to guess how such news must
affect a person whose very soul is one with yours and our friend. Let
me conjure you to soothe his sorrows. Pour nothing but oil and wine
into his wounds. Indulge no views, no designs, but what tend to the
honour of God, the promoting the kingdom of His dear Son, and the
healing of our wounded friend. How would the Philistines rejoice,
could they hear that Saul and Jonathan were in danger from their own
swords!”[71]
Wesley had an interview with Grace Bennet three days after her
dishonourable marriage; but, for thirty-nine years afterwards, they
never met again. In 1788, when her son was officiating at a chapel in
Moorfields, she came to visit him, and expressed a wish to see her
distinguished and too faithful lover. Wesley went; the meeting was
affecting, but soon over; and he was never heard to mention even her
name afterwards.[72]
This has been a painful exposure. Perhaps the writer will be blamed
for giving details usually too delicate to be put in print; but it
must be borne in mind, that the whole of what is here related has
been already published. Besides, up to a recent period, this episode
in Wesley’s history has been a puzzle to all his biographers. It has
never been explained. Mystery has enwrapped it. Readers have been
left in doubt who were the parties to be blamed. Now there can be no
great difficulty in pronouncing judgment. John Wesley was a dupe.
Grace Murray was a flirt. John Bennet was a cheat. Charles Wesley
was a sincere, but irritated, impetuous, and officious friend. Fancy
wonders what would have been the result, if Grace Murray had become
John Wesley’s wife; and probability suggests that one result would
have been, that Mrs. Vazeille would not have had the opportunity of
tormenting him as her second husband. But would he have been happy? We
doubt it. Joseph Cownley was not far wrong, when, being interrogated
by John Bennet, he replied, “If Grace Murray consult her ambition,
she will marry Mr. Wesley; if she consult her love, she will marry
you.”[73] Ambition properly controlled is not an evil; but ambition in
a wife, unmixed with love, inevitably engenders discontent and misery.
Besides, it is fair to ask the question, would Wesley’s marrying Grace
Murray have been satisfactory to his friends? Wesley was a scholar, an
author, and a minister of high repute; his friends included not only
thousands of the labouring classes, but a fair sprinkling of brother
clergymen, and a few who were men of wealth and position. Was it likely
that such friends would look with approbation upon a marriage which
was a _mesalliance_? Was not such a marriage calculated to injure
Wesley’s influence with the general public? Was it not likely to
give an advantage to his enemies? Was it not probable, that it would
create disaffection among his preachers, and among his societies? Does
not lowliness like to see leadership maintain its dignity? Charles
Wesley was culpable for the impetuosity of his interference, and for
some of the means he used to effect his purpose; but his alarm was
reasonable, and his interposition needed. The fact is, though his
brother doubtless loved Grace Murray, she was not worthy of his love.
It was a huge imprudence to make her his travelling companion, first
in the northern counties, and then, for months, in the sister island.
All must admit this. His conduct throughout was honest and honourable,
though, at the same time, foolish, and unworthy of his character and
position. Without doubt, she was talented, talkative, and bewitching;
her services also, as a female itinerant, were popular, and, in a
certain sense, successful; but Wesley’s opinion of her character and
piety was far higher than our own. The woman who, after a few years
of high religious profession, could, for so long a period, sink into
almost sceptical depression, and yet, all the while, meet her bands
and go through all the other Methodistic duties prescribed for her, as
though nought had happened,—the woman who was almost constantly in hot
water with her neighbours, and with the other Orphan House sisters; and
who so infamously coquetted with the greatest reformer of the age, and
with one of his most educated and able helpers,—was not the perfect
saint that Wesley pictured her. She was a woman of energy, of dauntless
resolution, and of a certain sort of religious zeal; and, late in life,
she seems to have been a loving, lovely Christian; but, at the period
of her dualistic courtship, she was uneducated, vain, fickle, selfish,
and presuming. Her husband wanted her, and got her; and we hope, and
doubt not, that their married life was happy; but even Bennet was
deserving of a more worthy wife; for, though his treatment of Wesley
was, in the first instance, treacherous, and afterwards abusive, he was
almost the only one of Wesley’s itinerants who was a man of education
and of property; and, both before his marriage and after it, was an
earnest, zealous, brave, and useful preacher. But now we bid adieu
to Wesley’s flirting sweetheart, and his rival lover; and, with deep
regret, begrudge the space we have felt it right to give them.
Wesley’s fortitude was one of his greatest virtues. Terrible had been
his disappointment and his trial; and yet, on Friday, October 6,
the day after the stormy salutation of his brother, and his painful
interview with Bennet and his bride, we find him preaching once at
Birstal, and twice at Leeds. He then made a brief eight days’ visit to
Newcastle, where, he writes, “at a meeting of the select society such
a flame broke out as was never there before. We felt such a love to
each other as we could not express; such a spirit of supplication, and
such a glad acquiescence in all the providences of God, and confidence
that He would withhold from us no good thing.” This was the more
remarkable, as, only ten days before, his irritated brother had so
severely censured him among the Newcastle Methodists, that the Orphan
House was full of anger and confusion. Sister Proctor said, she would
leave the house immediately. John Whitford, in the fourth year of his
itinerancy, declared that he would no longer be a helper. Matthew
Errington dreamed that the Orphan House was all in flames; another
dreamer saw Wesley himself in hell; while Jeannie Keith oracularly
pronounced him one of the children of Satanas.[74] The fire was fierce,
but, for want of fuel, was soon extinguished.
Strangely enough, on leaving Newcastle, Wesley went, at the request of
John Bennet, to Rochdale. His home was at Bankhouse, the residence of
Mr. Healey, the grandfather of the Messrs. Healey, of Liverpool.[75] On
entering the town, he found the streets lined with a vast multitude of
people, shouting, cursing, blaspheming, and gnashing on him with their
teeth; but, notwithstanding this, he preached, taking as his text, “Let
the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts.”
From Rochdale, he went to Bolton, and soon found that the Rochdale
lions were lambs, in comparison with those at Bolton. Edward Perronet
was thrown down and rolled in mud and mire. Stones were hurled, and
windows broken. John Bennet was made a captive, and was hemmed in on
every side; but “laid hold of the opportunity to tell them the terrors
of the Lord.” Wesley preached thrice, and with such effect, that,
before he left, he and his party “could walk through every street of
the town; and none molested or opened his mouth, unless to thank or
bless them.”
Leaving Bolton, Wesley proceeded to Bristol, and thence to London,
which he reached on November 10. Here he received a letter from
Johannes de Koker, of Rotterdam, telling him, that he was about to
translate and publish his “Plain Account,” and his “Character of a
Methodist”; and advising him to “avoid, more than he would a mad dog or
a venomous serpent, the multiplying of dogmas, and disputations about
things unnecessary”; for these had “been the two stratagems of Satan,
by which he had caused the church, insensibly and by degrees, to err
from evangelical simplicity and purity.”
Wesley was again involved in trouble with the Moravians. In a
collection of tracts, they printed all the passages they could glean
from his various writings, that were calculated to prejudice the
Lutherans against the Methodists. In the _London Daily Post_, they
ostentatiously announced to the English public, that the Methodists and
Moravians were not the same; and sent to the editor of that journal,
“the declaration of Louis, late bishop and trustee of the Brethren’s
church.” Wesley writes: “the Methodists, so called, heartily thank
brother Louis for his declaration; as they count it no honour to be in
any connection either with him or his brethren.” He then adds: “but why
is he ashamed of his name? The Count’s name is Ludwig, not Louis; no
more than mine is Jean or Giovanni.”
It was probably this scrimmage which led to the publication, in 1749,
either by Wesley or his friends, of a small 12mo pamphlet of twelve
pages, with the title, “Hymns composed for the use of the Brethren. By
the Right Reverend and Most Illustrious C. Z. Published for the benefit
of all mankind. In the year 1749.”[76] Neither printer nor compiler’s
name is given; but there is an address “to the reader,” as follows:
“The following hymns are copied from a collection printed, some months
since, for James Hutton, in Fetter Lane, London. You will easily
observe, that they have no affinity at all to that old book called the
Bible: the illustrious author soaring as far above this, as above the
beggarly elements of reason and common sense.”[77]
Zinzendorf’s worst wisher could have published nothing more calculated
to create disgust against him, as the Moravian hymnist, than this.
The sufferings of the Lord Jesus are represented as “shining from the
Moravian _handmaid_.” The believer is “a little bee, resting from the
hurry and flurry of earth on the breast of Jesus.” The wounded side of
the blessed Saviour is “God’s side-hole, sparkling with an everlasting
blaze,” and to which prayer is offered; the poet licks it, like rock
salt, and finds no relish to equal it; and, as a snail creeps into its
house, so he creeps into it. To multiply such ideas would be criminal.
We content ourselves with giving a single verse, intended to be a
description of the Moravian church:
“The daughters reverence do,
_Christess_, and praise thee too
Thou happy _Kyria_, daughter of _Abijah_,
_Ve-Ruach Elohah_, sister of Jehovah.
_Manness_ of the man Jeshuah,
Out of the Pleura hosannah.”[78]
Is it surprising, that Wesley “counted it no honour” to be connected
with a man who could write such profane balderdash as this? or with a
church, which was insane enough, in the service of sacred song, to sing
it?
The conference of 1749 was held in London, on the 16th of November and
following days. The chief subject discussed seems to have been, the
possibility of joining all the societies in the kingdom in a general
union; and the desirability of investing the stewards of the London
society with power to consult together for the good of all.
The conference being ended, Wesley retired to his friend Perronet’s, at
Shoreham, that he might be at leisure to employ his pen. Here he spent
about a fortnight; then a week at Lewisham; and about another week at
Newington.
We conclude, as before, with a list of Wesley’s publications during
1749.
1. “Excerpta ex Ovidio, Virgilio, Horatio, Juvenali, Persio, et
Martiali. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ
Presbyter.” 12mo, 242 pages.
2. “Caii Sallustii Crispi Bellum Catilinarium et Jugurthinum. In Usum
Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 110
pages.
3. “Cornelii Nepotis excellentium Imperatorum Vitæ. In Usum Juventutis
Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 100 pages.