“CLOYNE, _July 4, 1750_.
“REVEREND SIR,—I have that opinion of your prudence, that I doubt
not you will be cautious whom you admit into your pulpit; and that
you will avoid doing or countenancing anything that may offend your
brethren of the clergy, or give occasion to mobs and riots.
“I am, reverend sir, your faithful brother and humble servant,
“G. CLOYNE.”[95]
Blarney seemed to succeed when peremptoriness had failed; Wesley had
preached for the last time in Rathcormuck church.
Leaving Rathcormuck on May 19, Wesley rode on to Cork; and, at
eight o’clock the next morning (Sunday), had a large and deeply
attentive congregation in Hammond’s Marsh. Wesley declares, that he
had “seldom seen a more quiet and orderly assembly at any church in
England or Ireland.” He designed to preach in the marsh again at
night; but, during the afternoon, received a message from the mayor,
Mr. Crone, that he would have no more mobs and riots; and that, if
Wesley attempted to carry out his purpose, he would be prepared for
him. Wesley, not wishful to give offence, relinquished his purpose
of preaching out of doors, and conducted the evening service in the
chapel; but no sooner had he commenced doing so than his mightiness,
the mayor, came with the town drummers, and an immense rabble, and
continued drumming as long as Wesley continued preaching. On leaving
the chapel, Wesley was hemmed in by the mayor’s mob. Observing a
serjeant standing by, Wesley desired him to keep the king’s peace. The
king’s officer replied, “Sir, I have no orders to do that.” And so,
amid all sorts of missiles, the poor, harmless parson, had to make
his way, through a brutish crowd, over Dant’s Bridge, to the house
of Mr. Jenkins. Some of the congregation were more roughly handled,
particularly Mr. Jones, who was covered with filth, and escaped with
his life almost by miracle.
The next day Wesley rode to Bandon; but, for four hours in the
afternoon, the mob of Cork marched in grand procession, and then burnt
him in effigy.
The day after, May 22, the mob and drummers met at the house of John
Stockdale, the tallowchandler, whom they had nearly murdered twelve
months before, and whose wife was then abused most brutally. The
mayor was sent for, and came with a company of soldiers. Addressing
the mob, he said: “Lads, once, twice, thrice, I bid you go home; now I
have done”; and away he went, taking the soldiers with him. Of course
the “lads” knew how to interpret his worship’s sham loyalty, and,
accordingly, at once proceeded to smash all Stockdale’s windows.
On the following day, May 23, the infuriated crowd still patrolled the
streets, abused all that were called Methodists, and threatened to
murder them, and to pull down their houses. On the 24th, they again
assaulted Stockdale’s dwelling; broke down the boards he had nailed
up against his windows; destroyed the window frames and shutters; and
damaged a considerable part of his stock in trade. On the 25th Roger
O’Ferrall put up an advertisement, at the public Exchange, to the
effect that he was ready to march at the head of any rabble, and to
pull down all the houses that harboured “swaddlers.”
During this week of misrule and terror, in which not Mr. Crone but king
Mob was mayor of Cork, Wesley was peaceably preaching in the town of
Bandon; but, on the evening of Saturday the 26th, with a congregation
in the main street, twice as large as usual, he was disgracefully
interrupted. When he had preached about a quarter of an hour, a drunken
clergyman, with a large stick in his hand, placed himself by the side
of Wesley, and began a preconcerted disturbance; but, before he had
uttered a dozen words, three resolute women seized him, pulled him
into a house, expostulated with him, and then dismissed him through
a garden, where the poor maudlin priest, who had intended to stop
Wesley’s mouth, fell in love with one of Wesley’s admirers, who, in
order to extricate herself from his brutal embrace, had to repel force
by force and to cuff him most soundly. Thus the parson was got rid
of, leaving behind, however, three young gents—his friends—all armed
with pistols, more dangerous than even his reverence’s shillalah; but
the belligerent youths were quietly arrested, by others of Wesley’s
audience, and were taken away with more civility than they merited.
And, then, to complete this fantastic display of Irish bravery, the
last hero in the plot came on with the utmost fury; but “a butcher of
the town, not a Methodist, used him as he would an ox, bestowing one or
two lusty blows upon his head, and thus cooled his courage. So,” says
Wesley, “I quietly finished my discourse.”
The next day, Sunday, May 27, Wesley preached thrice in Bandon, and
wrote a letter to the mayor of Cork, the conclusion of which is worth
quoting:—
“I fear God, and honour the king. I earnestly desire to be at peace
with all men. I have not willingly given any offence, either to the
magistrates, the clergy, or any of the inhabitants of the city of Cork;
neither do I desire anything of them, but to be treated (I will not say
as a clergyman, a gentleman, or a Christian, but) with such justice and
humanity as are due to a Jew, a Turk, or a pagan.”
Wesley now turned towards Dublin. One day, he was on horseback, with
but an hour or two’s intermission, from five o’clock in the morning
till nearly eleven o’clock at night; and yet only five hours after
this, he again set out, and made the longest day’s journey that he ever
rode—about ninety miles. At midnight, he came to Aymo, where he wished
to sleep; but the woman who kept the inn refused him admittance, and,
moreover, let loose four dogs to worry him.
He spent only two days in Dublin, when he began a second visit to the
provincial societies. He writes: “June 21.—I returned to Closeland, and
preached in the evening to a little, earnest company. Oh who should
drag me into a great city, if I did not know there is another world!
How gladly could I spend the remainder of a busy life in solitude and
retirement.”
At Portarlington, he had the unthankful task of reconciling the
differences of two termagant women, who talked for three hours, and
grew warmer and warmer, till they were almost distracted. Wesley says:
“I perceived there was no remedy but prayer; so a few of us wrestled
with God for above two hours.” The result was, after three hours of
cavilling and two hours of prayer, anger gave place to love, and the
quarrelsome ladies fell upon each other’s neck. Here also, there being
no English service, he attended the French church service, and writes:
“I have sometimes thought Mr. Whitefield’s action was violent; but he
is a mere post to Mr. Calliard.”
Wesley then proceeded to Mountmellick, Montrath, Roscrea, Birr,
Tullamore, Athlone, Aghrim, Ahaskra, Longford, Kenagh, and Tyrrell’s
Pass. On the 14th of July he got back to Dublin, where he spent the
next eight days, and then embarked for England. The day before he
sailed, he wrote as follows to his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell:—
“DUBLIN, _July 21, 1750_.
“DEAR SIR,—I have had so hurrying a time for two or three months, as I
scarce ever had before; such a mixture of storms and clear sunshine,
of huge applause and huge opposition. Indeed, the Irish, in general,
keep no bounds. I think there is not such another nation in Europe, so
‘Impetuous in their love and in their hate.’
“That any of the Methodist preachers are alive is a clear proof of an
overruling Providence; for we know not where we are safe. A week or
two ago, in a time of perfect peace, twenty people assaulted one of
our preachers, and a few that were riding with him, near Limerick. He
asked their captain what they intended to do, who calmly answered, ‘To
murder you!’ and accordingly presented a pistol, which snapped twice
or thrice. Mr. Fenwick then rode away. The other pursued, and fired
after him, but could not overtake him. Three of his companions they
left for dead. But some neighbouring justice of the peace did not take
it well; so they procured the cutthroats to be apprehended; and it is
supposed they will be in danger of transportation, though murder is a
venial sin in Ireland.
“I am, dear sir,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[96]
Another letter, likewise written in Dublin, though a little out of
chronological order, is too important to be omitted. It was addressed
to Joseph Cownley, just after Wesley’s arrival in the Irish metropolis,
and contains an opinion on preaching, which, in this smooth-tongued
age, is well worth pondering.
“DUBLIN, _April 12, 1750_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I doubt you are in a great deal more danger from
honour than from dishonour. So it is with me. I always find there is
most hazard in sailing upon smooth water. When the winds blow, and the
seas rage, even the sleepers will rise and call upon God.
“From Newcastle to London, and from London to Bristol, God is
everywhere reviving His work. I find it so now in Dublin, although
there has been great imprudence in some, whereby grievous wolves have
lately crept in among us, not sparing the flock; by whom some souls
have been utterly destroyed, and others wounded, who are not yet
recovered.[97] Those who ought to have stood in the gap did not; but I
trust they will be wiser for the time to come. After a season, I think
it will be highly expedient for you to labour in Ireland again.
“I see a danger you are in, which perhaps you do not see yourself. Is
it not most pleasing to me, as well as to you, to be always preaching
of the love of God? Without doubt so it is. But yet it would be
utterly wrong and unscriptural to preach of nothing else. Let the law
always prepare for the gospel. I scarce ever spoke more earnestly here
of the love of God in Christ than I did last night; but it was after I
had been tearing the unawakened in pieces. Go thou and do likewise. It
is true, the love of God in Christ alone feeds His children; but even
they are to be guided as well as fed, yea, and often physicked too;
and the bulk of our hearers must be purged before they are fed, else
we only feed the disease. Beware of all honey. It is the best extreme;
but it is an extreme.
“I am your affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[98]
Upon the whole, Wesley was well satisfied with the work in Ireland.
He writes: “I had the satisfaction of observing how greatly God had
blessed my fellow labourers, and how many sinners were saved from the
error of their ways. Many of these had been eminent for all manner of
sins. Many had been Roman Catholics; and I suppose the number of these
would have been far greater, had not the good protestants, as well as
the popish priests, taken true pains to hinder them.”[99]
Wesley’s “fellow labourers,” however, gave him trouble as well as
joy. Dr. Whitehead has inserted, in his Life of Wesley, the following
extracts of letters, written to Edward and Charles Perronet, during the
present year. They seem somewhat testy, and, we incline to think, were
written in a querulous frame of mind, to which all men are, more or
less, liable. We give them as we find them.
“I have abundance of complaints to make, as well as to hear. I have
scarce any one on whom I can depend, when I am a hundred miles off.
’Tis well if I do not run away soon, and leave them to cut and shuffle
for themselves. Here” [in Ireland] “is a glorious people; but oh!
where are the shepherds? The Society at Cork have fairly sent me
word, that they will take care of themselves, and erect themselves
into a Dissenting congregation. I am weary of these sons of Zeruiah:
they are too hard for me. Charles and you _behave_ as I want you to
do; but you cannot, or will not, preach _where_ I desire. Others can
and will preach _where_ I desire; but they do not _behave_ as I want
them to do. I have a fine time between the one and the other. I think
both Charles and you have, in the general, a right sense of what it
is to serve as sons in the gospel; and if all our helpers had had the
same, the work of God would have prospered better, both in England
and Ireland. I have not one preacher with me, and not six in England,
whose wills are broken to serve me thus.”[100]
This is a dark picture; but we still think, that, though Wesley’s first
helpers were far from perfect, his complaint concerning them is too
strongly worded. Biliousness makes even the best men fretful, and it
may be fairly supposed that Wesley himself was not free from this.
Wesley’s passage from Dublin to Bristol was stormy and dangerous. There
was a combination of wind, thunder, rain, and darkness. The sea ran
mountains high. The ship had no goods, and little ballast, and rolled
most fearfully. He and Christopher Hopper began to pray; the wind was
hushed; the sea fell; the clouds dispersed; and, on July 24, they
arrived in safety.
Ten days before his arrival, a long and most scandalous letter, of
nearly three folio columns, was published in _The Bristol Weekly
Intelligencer_; but was far too scurrilous to be answered. Some parts
of it are literally obscene, and must not be quoted. The following
are among the most mildly expressed charges. The “gifted itinerants,”
who “had been bred up as tailors, masons, colliers, tinkers, and
sow-gelders,” made it their “business to talk about the other world, in
order to maintain themselves in this.” They were “of a gloomy temper,
and rueful countenance,” holding the doctrines, that “the Deity is an
arbitrary being; that positive institutions are more obligatory than
moral duties; and that man is not a free agent, but a mere machine.”
Their followers were—(1) The most ignorant and credulous, who were “apt
to admire everything that was new, surprising, and mysterious”; (2)
the old, melancholy, and sick, who were ready to trust any one, that
could, with confidence, promise to put them in a way of safety; (3)
notorious bad livers, who made a great noise about religion, hoping to
be happy hereafter without being good here; and (4) the female sex, who
received the preachers very kindly into their houses, and, for their
sakes, neglected and left their husbands and their families. In their
preaching, the itinerants “interlarded their miscellaneous thoughts
with a whole effusion of Scripture texts, without regard to their just
sense or proper application; they roared, raved, thundered, and stunned
their congregations, using every variation of voice, and all manner of
bodily agitations, and attributed the whole to the powerful operations
of the Holy Ghost. Their proper friends were the Jesuits, and they
opposed peace and order, and a regular government in church and state.
They bred ill opinions about the clergy, by insinuating that they had
more regard for their tithes than for their flocks, their pleasures
than their prayers; and that they strove more for good livings than for
eternal life.”
Such are meek specimens of the long letter published in the midst of
the Bristol Methodists.
Wesley spent six days at Bristol, during which he preached at Point’s
Pool, “in the midst of the butchers, and all the rebel rout that
neither fear God nor reverence man.” He was greatly disheartened at
finding the Kingswood family considerably lessened. “I wonder,” he
writes, “how I am withheld from dropping the whole design; so many
difficulties have continually attended it.”
On July 30, he set out for Shepton-Mallet, and, for five hours, rode
through an incessant rain and a furious wind, till he was “drenched
to the very soles of his feet.” Next day, he came to Shaftesbury, and
preached to a crowded congregation, including “the chief opposers of
John Haime; but none stirred, none spoke, none smiled; many were in
tears; and many others were filled with joy unspeakable.”
He then proceeded, by way of Collumpton, to Tiverton, to him a sacred
place as containing the ashes of his brother Samuel. He preached in
the market place. One of his hearers was Miss Sampson, a young lady of
five and twenty, the daughter of a Baptist minister. She became one
of the first members of the Tiverton society; married James Cotty, an
itinerant preacher; and died in peace on New Year’s day, 1819.[101]
Tiverton was a place which Wesley often visited, and sometimes (as we
shall see hereafter) a place which gave him not the most courteous
welcome.
Leaving Tiverton, he went to Cornwall, and found that, throughout
the entire county, the societies had “suffered great loss for want
of discipline.” The largest society was at St. Just, and contained
a “greater proportion of believers” than he had found in any other
society in the kingdom. It was during this visit of three weeks’
continuance, that the first watchnight was held in Cornwall. He
preached at least thirty times, held a quarterly meeting at St. Ives,
at which were present the stewards of all the Cornish societies; and,
besides other books, read what he calls an “odd one,” entitled “The
General Delusion of Christians with regard to Prophecy”; and was
convinced of what he had long suspected: “(1) That the Montanists, in
the second and third centuries were real, scriptural Christians;[102]
and (2) that the grand reason why the miraculous gifts were so soon
withdrawn, was, not only that faith and holiness were well-nigh lost,
but that dry, formal, orthodox men began even to ridicule whatever
gifts they had not themselves; and to deny them all, as either madness
or imposture.”
In returning, he called again at Tiverton, where the meadow in which
he preached “was full from side to side, and many stood in the gardens
and orchards round.” At Hillfarrance, “three or four boors would have
been rude if they durst; but the odds against them was too great.”
At Bridgewater, he had “a well behaved company.” At Shaftesbury, a
constable came, and said, “Sir, the mayor discharges you from preaching
in this borough any more.” Wesley replied, “While King George gives me
leave to preach, I shall not ask leave of the mayor of Shaftesbury.” At
Salisbury, he preached in the chapel which formerly was Westley Hall’s,
a poor woman endeavouring to interrupt by uttering an inarticulate
and dismal yell. Behaviour like this was now, at Salisbury, of common
occurrence; the misconduct of Hall afforded the children of darkness
an occasion of triumph. The poor Methodists were loaded with infamy
and insults on his account. One of them was Mrs. Barbara Hunt, who,
after a membership of sixty-three years, fell asleep in Jesus, on July
22, 1813.[103] From Salisbury, Wesley proceeded to Winterburn and to
Reading, and, on September 8, after a six months’ absence, got back to
London.
A week later, he wrote: “September 15.—I read a short ‘Narrative of
Count Zinzendorf’s Life, written by himself.’ Was there ever such a
Proteus under the sun as this Lord Freydeck, Domine de Thurstain, etc.,
etc.? For he has almost as many names as he has faces or shapes. O when
will he learn (with all his learning) simplicity and godly sincerity?
When will he be an upright follower of the Lamb, so that no guile may
be found in his mouth?”
To some this language may seem somewhat harsh; but was it so? Take
the commencement of a letter which Zinzendorf addressed to the
Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1749. “We, Lewis, by Divine providence,
bishop, Liturgus, and Ordinary of the churches known by the name of
the Brethren; and, under the auspices of the same, Advocate during
life, with full power over the hierarchy of the Slavonic Unity; Custos
Rotulorum, and Prolocutor both of the general Synod and of the Tropus
of instruction; by these presents declare,” etc. Or take the following
from Spangenberg, who says he thus enumerates all the titles of the
count, because he not unfrequently availed himself of them:—“The
individual whose character I have attempted to pourtray, was Nicolas
Lewis, Count and Lord of Zinzendorf and Pottendorf, lord of the
baronies of Freydeck, Schöneck, Thurnstein, and the vale of Wachovia,
lord of the manor of Upper, Middle, and Lower Bertholdsdorf, Hereditary
Warden of the Chace to his imperial Roman majesty, in the Duchy of
Austria, below the Ens, and at one time Aulic and Justicial Counsellor
to the Elector of Saxony.” Compare this sickening bombast with Wesley’s
most flattering description of himself: “John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of
Lincoln College, Oxford.” Unfortunately we shall have to return to
this high-flown German gentleman.
It seems to have been some time during the present year, that the
Methodists of London began to occupy the French church, in Grey
Eagle Street, Spitalfields. This chapel had been built by the French
protestant refugees, and is said to have had for its minister, from
1700 to 1705, the eminent French protestant preacher, James Saurin.
It is now a part of the brewery of Truman, Buxton, and Hanbury.[104]
Here, on September 21, Wesley held a watchnight, and remarks: “I often
wonder at the peculiar providence of God on these occasions. I do not
know that, in so many years, one person has ever been hurt, either in
London, Bristol, or Dublin, in going so late in the night to and from
all parts of the town.”
Wesley’s stay in London was of short duration. On September 24, he left
for Kingswood, where he spent a month in revising and preparing for the
school the works following: Parochial Antiquities, by White Kennet,
bishop of Peterborough; Grecian Antiquities, by Archbishop Potter; and
Hebrew Antiquities, by Mr. Lewis. He also wrote, at this time, his
“Short History of England,” and his “Short Roman History”; and nearly
finished his abridgment of Cave’s Primitive Christianity, which he had
begun about two years before. On October 24, he returned to London, and
here, with the exception of short journeys to Windsor, Canterbury, and
Leigh, he remained till the year was ended.